To tell the truth, the depressing atmosphere would have been more appropriately illuminated by the ancient torches that sat unlit in their iron holders in the wall. Given the dim lighting, I could see only about twenty feet in front of me, after which the rest of the basement was shrouded in foreboding dark shadow.

Seeing twenty feet in front of me was enough, though. Enough to see that I was in some sort of iron cage, the bars going from floor to ceiling, the door held shut by an old iron lock. The cage was empty except for me and a thin layer of straw in the corner, which I hoped wasn’t supposed to be my bed.

How did I get here?

I pushed myself up from the ground. The stinging pain in my hand as it touched the floor jolted my memory of the car ride with Carson.

My stomach twisted. It was Carson Bates who had broken into my house and likely him who killed Lavinia. He wore a big ring. He rode in the dark black car. He had the same gray streak in his hair as Derek.

And, when I’d run into him on the street, he was wearing one of the coats I’d seen in the Bates garage. A navy blue coat with oversized storm flaps on the shoulders and back. Those storm flaps could easily have been mistaken for a cape in the shadowy figure Lavinia had seen as she fell down the steps.

My head started to ache along with my hand and my leg as I tried to remember what had happened. The last thing I remembered was Carson trying to take the book from me in the car. Seeing as how I didn’t have the book now, he must have succeeded. Everything after that was a blank.

Did he knock me out, somehow? How had I gotten here? And where was I? I assumed it was the Bates’ basement, but since I didn’t remember getting here, I supposed it could be anywhere.

But what did it matter? No matter where I was, I needed to get out. Fast.

I walked over to the door and pushed. Naturally, it didn’t budge—I couldn’t be that lucky. I pulled on it with as much force as I could muster, but it was solid … and locked tight.

I paced the perimeter of my ten by ten cell, studying the floor and ceiling to see if there were any cracks or openings I could wriggle out through. There were none. I tested every bar with my good hand until it stung from pulling on the chipped, rusty iron. None of them budged.

A sigh of frustration escaped my lips as I leaned against the wall. The hard, cold stones chilled my back as I sunk down to the floor.