Oh god, this was real.
“You've figured it out, huh, Cass?”
His voice snapped me back and I could feel him pace back and forth across my…grave.
“This not-talking shit is just pissing me off, Cass. You don't want to do that.”
More pacing.
I cried, but no sobs. Quiet tears.
“Push in the button that's under your thumb and talk, Cass. I'm warning you. You won't like what happens if you don't.”
His voice was slow and measured. Serious as—well, death. But I didn't answer. I couldn't.
And what did he expect me to say?
A spot of light as big as a silver dollar appeared above my face (not blind!), then the light blotted out and something showered down on me. Dirt. In my nostrils and mouth. The light appeared again for an instant then disappeared.
I turned my head, spit, and cleared my nose and mouth, fear causing me to jerk up and bang my head, knees, and shoulders into the top and side of the box. I hit the button.
“Stop, please, don't do that again. Please.”
“There now. Got you talking. That's what I want.”
What did he want me to say?
“Cass?”
“Yes, don't throw dirt on me, please. I…don't understand what's going on.” A sob escaped. I couldn't help it. My fingers again scrabbled the rough wood above me, ripping what was left of the skin and nails. I pounded the tape-bound hand, then pulled it closer to my face and pushed in the square button. “Please, let me go. I don't know who you are so I can't tell anybody anything. Just let me go. Let me out of here.”
I was begging him. I knew it would get me nowhere. I watch TV. I read those kinds of books. The bad guy likes the begging.…He gets off on it.
But what else did I have? I WAS BURIED IN A BOX!
“Please. Just let me go. I won't tell anyone.”
“Oh, I know you won't tell anyone. I'm so sure you won't that I don't care if you know who I am.”
I bit down on my lip until I tasted blood. He was going to kill me.
He paced again. Across my chest. Back across my head. He stopped.
“My name is Kyle Kirby. David Kirby is—was my little brother.”
I didn't know until that moment that a person's teeth could actually chatter. But mine did. Fear, real fear is physical. David's name was a cold wave that washed over me, and I shivered from toenails to teeth. I shook too hard to keep my left fist clenched; my teeth wouldn't grit; nothing worked according to my will.
“Having a guilty little moment in there?” His whisper was calm and quiet. “Wondering how much I know? How much to deny?”
Teeth still clattering, I couldn't have answered if I had anything to say.
The first time I saw Kyle he was half naked. Buff and blond and hot in the icy Aryan way. Sweat glazed his tan, muscled torso and he attacked the weeds in the country club flower beds as if he hated each one.
“Hottie alert,” Erica said. “Kyle Kirby. My mom knows his dad.” She started ticking off stats like a reporter. “He's on the baseball team. Moody. Doesn't date much. Never had a steady girlfriend, as far as I know. In fact, I don't know much more. Keeps to himself.”
Erica's mom had dropped us at the club for an afternoon at the pool. Three girls from school, juniors, sashayed in front of us.
“Hey, Kyle,” one of them singsonged. He glanced over, wiping sweat off his cheek by hunching one shoulder and shoving his face across it. He never removed his grip on the weeds. He didn't speak but gave a half-assed nod and jerked up the weeds in the same motion.
Standoffish catnip, I thought. He never glanced at Erica or me. And that was the surest way to my heart.
When school started, I made it my business to find out his schedule. Following Ted's rules, I knew to do my research, then I managed to be “around” or “just leaving” the area where Kyle would be. It was a first for me to pursue a boy. The only reaction I got for my trouble was one guarded look. Something akin to distaste. When a deal goes sour, accept and stop selling. I forgot about Kyle Kirby.
The spot of light appeared above me.
“See this, Cass? That's the end of an air tube.” A snap and the light dimmed. “I put a filter on it—keeps out dirt and stuff. Now I let the tube fall along the ground.” Darkness again. “And you can't see the light from my flashlight. In faaaact”—he stretched this out like he was singing it—“you should be seeing pretty much what David sees.”
A groan escaped me.
“Feeling sorry for yourself? Hoping you weren't buried?” He laughed, low and seemingly satisfied. “Well, believe it. You're not in a nice casket like David. You don't deserve satin lining and pillows. You just get a crate for your grave.
“But, I wasn't sure you'd know why you were there. I couldn't just leave you. Honestly, Cass, you're too damn self-centered to figure it out without me to pound it into your head.”
Self-centered? He buried me because I was self-centered? Not even I could think this was all about me. This had to be about the note—about words that I didn't expect David to see. But, let's get real here, there had to be a lot wrong with David to go sailing off a limb because a girl rejected him. And since when does self-centered stack up against kidnapping and burying someone alive? Think about that awhile, asswipe.
“So you have an air tube and there's a pump to get all your carbon dioxide out through a little hole in the other end. It's crude, but it will work for a while. I don't have a lot of time anyway.”
“What do you mean? A lot of time? For what?”
He paused and paced above me. “I don't know how long you've got either.”
“How long for what? What are you talking about?” I screamed.
“Damn, you took a long time to wake up. I wondered if I'd killed you with that drug. I hope you drank a lot of water before you went to bed on Friday. Dehydration is—”
“Kyle—”
“Don't! Do not say my name. You have no right to use it. Say my name and dirt comes down the tube. Got that?”
I nodded.
“Answer!”
“Yes. I've got it. I won't use your name. I won't.”
“And there's something else. Try to deny, just try to deny that you did this to David, make excuses for yourself, and I jerk the air tube and walk away. Understand?”
I almost nodded again but then realized he couldn't see me.
“Understood.”
“Fine, now it's late and I have to go back to…a whole different kind of hell. You stay here and I'll be back. Or maybe not.”
And nothing. Not even vibrations.
I was alone.