I climbed towards the attic with my hands out in front of me, my fingers tearing at the carpet, my shoulder brushing the wall.
A terrible feeling.
Those prickles in my spine again. The sensation of someone looming behind me.
I reached the upper landing, whirled around, stared back.
But the stairwell was empty.
And I knew I had a choice.
Two rooms.
Choose well.
I entered Sam’s study at a crouch, bracing myself against the door frame before advancing as far as his desk chair.
Footfall downstairs.
Somebody was striding along the landing. Confident. Fast.
I sneaked on towards the French doors opening onto the balcony, taking hold of the door handles, reaching for the key.
Wait.
A tremor deep inside me.
The key wasn’t here. It was missing.
He must have taken the key.
My mind flashed back to when Donovan had stepped in from the balcony earlier. His back had been to me when he’d closed both doors after him. I hadn’t paid close attention to what he’d been doing with his hands because I’d been too busy worrying about what to do and say next.
Oh God.
I tugged down on both door handles but they only confirmed what I already knew.
He was locking you in.
He’d planned ahead.
Was Bethany a part of this? What even was this?
Fear bulged in my throat.
I scanned the carpet around my feet, telling myself the key might have simply fallen out. The pain at the back of my head spiked momentarily as I looked down, but if the key had fallen to the floor I couldn’t see it.
Spinning, my heart thrashing against my ribs, I stared towards the top of the stairs, willing this not to be happening to me, wishing I could be anywhere else.
That’s when I heard the shower stop.
The squeak of a tap. A hush followed by a ragged splatter and then silence.
I listened as closely as I could.
Beneath my feet I could picture Donovan or Bethany standing very still and listening for me.
I didn’t move. My body was stone.
I wanted to shout or scream for somebody to help me, but I was petrified of letting them know where I was.
The seconds passed like minutes.
When I did gradually turn my head, achingly slowly, I surveyed Sam’s study for anything I could use to let myself out.
But all I could see was pens and notebooks, papers and texts.
Then I heard movement again.
Downstairs.
Footsteps.
On the landing.
Hurrying towards the back of the house.