“Meow!” The cat had left the confines of the cage and was playing with what looked like a big dust ball. I watched as she batted it with her paw, sending it rolling and then pounced on it over and over again.

That gave me an idea.

Scanning the floor, I saw a long flat piece of metal that would make a perfect lock pick. It was too far for me to reach, but I might be able to use one of the tricks I’d learned from Bing to get the cat to do my work for me.

One of Bing’s favorite tricks was to make things look like they floated in air. He used a fishing line for that, the line seeming invisible. I didn’t have fishing line, but I had something Bing always said would work just as well—my hair.

The strands were thick, and the corkscrew curls made it look shorter than it actually was. I plucked a few strands out, pleased that I got two of the white ones, and tied them together. Then I picked a few pieces of straw from the corner and tied that to one end.

The dangling straw caught the cat’s eye and she left her dust ball and trotted into the cell. Standing up on her hind legs, she batted at it.

“You like?” I squatted down and threw the straw end out. The cat skittered after it, pouncing on it. I jerked it out from under her and she skittered again.

I reeled in my new cat toy and went to the edge of the cell. Sticking my hand out through the bars, I tossed the toy out toward the metal piece. It landed just beyond it. Perfect.

The cat pounced on the toy, her front paw hitting the metal piece and sending it sliding toward the cell. Not far enough, though. I jerked the piece toward me and she hit the metal again, inching it closer. A few more well-placed tosses and the metal piece was within reach.

“Thanks, Kitty.” I stretched my fingers through the bars, ignoring the throbbing pain of my burned fingertips, and grabbed the metal piece.

Standing, I poked my hand out so I could put the metal into the lock. The cat sat on the other side of the door, staring at me intently.

I dug the metal piece around. Turns out it’s a lot harder picking a lock from the inside. After about five minutes of fiddling, I heard a satisfying click.

I pushed the door and it swung open.

Chapter Thirty-One

Chapter Thirty-One

I stepped out of the cell, my heart thumping as my eyes darted around the room, or at least the part of the room I could see.

Which way should I go?

My senses told me I was in a basement because the air had that dank, damp underground feeling. But there were no windows like a regular basement.