She didn't answer, just pushed me into the house and revealed a door to the basement Cavin hadn't shown me during our visit. Bridgette kept the gun on me as we walked down the stairs. It reminded me of something you'd see in a horror movie. There were ropes, a bucket that smelled like piss and shit, and bowls for food and water next to a stained and bug-infested twin mattress. "What is this place?" I gagged at the smell as my eyes buzzed and I pushed away my headache.
"This is where you've been keeping me prisoner. That's what everyone will think. Crazy Cat lost it and kidnapped her best friend, locking her up."
I couldn't hide my shock. "Why, Bridgette? You were my best friend. Why would you do this to me?"
"It's not personal. I had to get rid of you. I hated that you and Ash were together. He should have been mine.” She paused and laughed mirthlessly. “Okay, I lied. It is personal." She smacked her pink lips and smiled, but it was a cold and calculating smile that didn't reach her eyes.
"Why did you need my mother's book? Her research? What does any of this have to do with you?"
"You just have to know everything, don't you? Sorry, sister, but this isn't an after school special where everything gets explained and wrapped up in a nice little bow. You're just going to have to die with this mystery hanging over your head." She pushed me in the back, prodding me forward.
I stumbled against a workbench and bruised the back of my leg, but I ignored the pain. "What happens now?" I was surprised at how calm my voice sounded, when inside I felt anything but.
"This is where I escape my evil captor, kill you in self-defense—which I'll feel super bad about even though you did awful things to me, because I'll remember the times we were friends, all those happy memories—and it will break me up, wondering how you could have done these things." Her voice took on a different tone, one the press would eat up as real tears slid down her face.
She wiped away the tears and smiled again. "They won't be able to get enough of my story."
"Please Bridgette, don't." My tears were real and so was my fear.
"Please Bridgette, don't," she mimicked in a mocking tone. "How do you not see what a whiny bitch you are?"
Bridgette held the gun toward me, her finger twitching on the trigger. I reached behind me and grabbed the first thing I could find. A wrench. I threw it at her, hitting her shoulder, and ducked. The gun went off, shooting into the wall as I tackled Bridgette and tried to remember what Ash taught me about disarming someone.
I managed to knock the gun away from her. She gasped, fighting back with a punch that missed my face. I gripped something, the wrench I'd thrown, and raised it over my head.
With a whack, I slammed it against her head.
She slumped to the floor.
In a frenzy of fear and adrenaline I searched for her phone so I could call for help. The cabin didn't have a phone line, and my cell phone was on the highway somewhere.
Finally spotting it just a few feet away, I reached for Bridgette's phone and was just about to grab it when the lights went out. It was so dark I couldn't tell if my eyes were open or closed.
Then I heard footsteps coming toward me.
Chapter Thirty One
Smoking Gun
THE KILLER WAS in the room. Someone who needed the book. Someone who was working with Bridgette. I felt around for the phone and my hand landed on it. Using flashes of light from the phone, I found the gun that had been kicked away.
With gun in hand, I tried to put my back to a wall, but I couldn't tell where the wall was. I flashed the phone and saw nothing but the empty bed across the room.
I moved back, stumbling into the pot full of shit and flashed the phone again. Nothing.
My breath came short and fast, head pounding with the beat of my heart, eyes buzzing, everything dipping and turning like a funhouse mirror. I tried to focus, and flashed the phone light again.
I saw a person dressed in black from head to toe, face covered. A gun fired and I dropped to my knees, crawling, trying to avoid a bullet in the dark.
I shot in the direction I heard the shots coming from. Bang. Bang. Bang. I strained to hear if someone cried out in injury, but I heard nothing but the ringing in my ears and the sound of gunshots.
I shot again and then click. The gun was empty. Crawling around in the dark, my hand sliding in the excrement I knocked over, I searched for another weapon and found the wrench I'd dropped.
Someone smacked their lips in the dark. I flashed the phone and saw nothing.
Another flash of light.
And another.
Bits and pieces of the empty room came into view and disappeared.
And then the light flashed and the killer was there. I charged toward the person in black, tackling them to the ground. We fought each other. Legs and arms tangled up in kicks and punches and muffled screams. I knocked the gun out of their hand, but their fingers clawed at my neck, choking me. I grabbed their face, tearing off the mask though I still couldn't see them.