Bridget walked ahead of her, the chain between the shackles rattling with each step. As soon as the door was closed, she inventoried the bathroom. Towels, toothpaste, three toothbrushes, shampoo, a bar of soap. Nothing that could be used as a weapon.

After Joanne brought her back, Bridget read to Bob for another hour. When he fell into an uneasy sleep, Bridget noted the page she was on and kept reading silently to herself. She’d always been a fast reader, and with nothing to distract her, the pages flew by. They were filled with twists and revelations and sudden yet fitting deaths. And woven together with the previous six books, this new one completed a stunning tapestry.

Bridget was only vaguely aware of the real world. The snow finally stopped. At one point she heard Joanne and Derrick talking at the other end of the house. Their voices rose and fell, full of urgency, sometimes overlapping, sometimes rising to a shout. Later she heard shoveling and scraping outside. Then a door slammed, and a motor started up. A car. She barely spared a thought as to whether it was Derrick or Joanne. Did it really matter?

Meanwhile, all too soon, Bridget was on the final page. Her eyes filled with tears as she read the last line.

And he climbed on Grayhorn’s back, put his arms around Jancy’s waist, and together they flew toward the stars.

After a long moment, Bridget reluctantly put the page down and slid the final stack back under the treadmill. When she turned around, wiping her nose on her sleeve, Bob was awake.

“So you finished it?” he rasped.

“Oh my God, Bob. That—that is an ending.”

“Does it work, do you think?” He was watching her closely.

Bridget would have lied if she needed to, but she didn’t. “It’s”—she sighed—“it’s perfect.”

She was about to say more when the door handle turned.

Joanne came in, holding the stun gun. “Okay, Bridget, it’s time for another bathroom break. And if you promise not to run, I can take off the shackles.”

Her heart leapt. “I promise,” she lied.

When Joanne bent over to unlock them, Bridget imagined kicking her in the face. Twisting and circling her legs to wrap the chain around the older woman’s throat, and then pulling until she passed out and Bridget could retrieve the key and the stun gun from her slack fingers.

Instead, she did nothing, hating herself for her cowardice.

Joanne gestured with the stun gun for Bridget to go into the bathroom. “Stay put until I let you out.”

After Bridget flushed the toilet, she waited for Joanne to come back. And waited.

“I’m done,” she finally shouted, watching the doorknob, waiting for it to turn. Did she hear footsteps out in the hall? Then the knob rattled. Bridget sucked in a breath, ready to beg for Bob’s life as soon as it opened.