Mia did drop to the ground then, but it was only to scramble in the drifting snow for the fake rock. It took two tries to get it out, the metal eventually falling into her trembling hands.

But it had taken her too long.

A gun pressed against the base of her neck, and Lacey’s silky voice cut through the wind. “You know I’m not a killer, darling, but even I have my limits. Open the door.”

It wasn’t over, it wasn’t over, the animal howled, pacing beneath the pressure of the barrel.

Still, she stepped into the little room, didn’t try to take Lacey down in the open.

In the lighthouse, there was so much more to work with than there had been when she was bound on the floor in the abandoned house’s kitchen.

The fear quieted, the roar of it, which had been so loud while she had been fleeing, settling into a buzz beneath her skin, bringing everything into focus. The rustle of Lacey’s coat as she moved, the pungent must thick in the air, the splintered boards against her feet.

Lacey came in behind her, shutting the door as she did. She pouted at Mia. “You ran away. But we were having so much fun.”

Mia didn’t respond, didn’t fall into the trap of engaging with the woman. Instead, she started to assess items as potential weapons or dismiss them as useless.

“Well, I can’t say I’m disappointed,” Lacey continued. “Back where it all started, huh? Fitting, I guess.”

The jewelry box had sharp edges. The table was too heavy to lift.

“It actually adds a bit of poetry to my plan,” Lacey said, her voice going singsong to try to goad Mia into answering.

If she broke one of the pictures on the wall, she might be able to use the glass. The poker by the fireplace was perfect, but far. The books were probably too light.

“You don’t want to hear my plan?” Lacey pouted again, her lip slick with spit in the thin light filtering in through the window.

They were standing in shades of darkness. At least outside, the snow had helped a little. Now it was nearly pitch black. Lacey paced closer, probably wanting to see each emotion flick across Mia’s face. “All right, you don’t want to play? You’ll just have to wait and see, then.”

Before Mia could say anything at all, Lacey pulled out her cell phone. Mia thought of her own useless one, probably filled with messages from Izzy.

Lacey held the gun up to her own mouth in the shhh gesture, before winking at Mia.

She grinned, a flash of white teeth, when whomever she’d called picked up. Then she began to whisper, a quiver turning the words frantic, terrified, urgent.