This is my fault, and if anyone dies, it should be me. Jamie doesn’t deserve any of this. He did one good thing, and I pulled him into my messed-up life, and now he’s trapped in a madman’s house. He told me to run, but he should have been the one running. He shouldn’t have been here in the first place.

I hear footsteps on the stairs, the handle turns, then Jamie is pushed into the room, and Mr. Farrell reaches forward and grabs me.

“Your turn,” he says, and I see Jamie has his arms tied behind his back.

Mr. Farrell is holding the rope, and he forces me to the floor, then wraps it around and around until it cuts into my skin. He yanks it hard, making sure there’s no way I can escape, then he sits me down next to Jamie.

“Okay,” he says. “Now I can think.”

He looks scarily calm, his eyes flicking back and forth between us like he’s doing eeny-meeny in his head, picking which of us to kill first.

This isn’t what he had planned, even if he did prepare for the worst with the camera. If he’d known we were coming, he would never have left the house.

I’m desperately trying to use that somehow, because I don’t want to die. I have to fight. I have to beat him.

“Remember,” he says, “no talking.”

When he leaves, he doesn’t close the door, and the creak of the floorboards suggests he is only a room away.

And that’s when I realize I’ve got another phone, stuffed somewhere he would never think to check.

“Shit,” I whisper, and Jamie looks at me, his eyes wide, and shakes his head.

I had the perfect chance to call for help, and I didn’t do it. How many times can I screw up on the same day?

My secret second phone is in my bra, and I was three numbers away from rescue, and it slipped my mind. Who does that?

We had him. All I needed was to dial 999 and tell them where I was, and we would be the proof they needed. And if they still didn’t believe me, I would pull the receipt out of my sock, and Mr. Farrell couldn’t lie his way out of that.

Plus, somewhere in this house is the worst photo album imaginable.

I only need one chance to make a call. But no matter how much I struggle against the knots behind my back, I can’t loosen them.

He knows the police aren’t coming. We’re alone in this fight.

Chapter 135

Every now and then, we hear movement, but he doesn’t come back.

Every bump and bang downstairs makes my heart jump, yet after what feels like hours, he still doesn’t put us out of our misery.