She clung to the couch and waited for the furniture to quit moving. When had Mama bought this ugly green couch? And that rocking chair?
A few seconds more, and her mind cleared. This wasn’t her and her mama’s cozy little home.
This was the bad man’s house.
Bethany’s legs wobbled, like that cute little boy in one-piece pajamas who’d been at the grocery store last time they’d gone shopping. He’d screeched at his mother to let him out of the cart, but the moment his feet touched the floor, the boy tried to run away. His wiggly-wobbly legs carried him halfway to the strawberries before he plopped onto his butt and cried.
The grocery store…
Bethany licked her cracked lips, picturing the rows and rows of food. Oreos and chocolate chip granola bars. Fresh strawberries and milk. Everything sounded so good right now—even broccoli.
I promise, I’ll never complain about food again if I could just have something to eat soon.
Floating along in her happy daydream of strawberries and blueberry muffins and pineapple pizza, Bethany didn’t realize that she’d wandered into the bad man’s room until she stood a foot away from his bed.
You shouldn’t be in here, a tiny voice in her head whispered. This is a bad idea. But then the ringing in her ears grew louder, and she forgot all about bad ideas.
The bed with the navy-blue comforter with thin white stripes was all made up, as neat as one in a hotel room. Bethany ran her hand over the silky material as she looked around the other furniture. No dust in here. No mess of any kind. Everything was so tidy. Not like her mama’s bedroom at home, where the floor or chair was usually covered in clothes.
Bethany wrapped her arms around her waist and shivered. This room was almost too clean, like it was trying to impress someone or lure them inside. Goose bumps raced down her arms.
You should leave.
Soon. But first, she’d check for food. Or a phone, or maybe a weapon.
Bethany opened the drawers of the bedside table, but they were as empty as the kitchen cupboards.
Besides the bed, the only other piece of furniture was a large bookcase, so she drifted there next. Instead of books, the shelves held more photos, like the ones hanging in the hall. All of the poofy-haired woman and the little boy.
She squinted at the nearest one, nearly touching her nose to the glass. Could the bad man be the little boy?
No. The bad man had never been a little boy. He’d probably been sent here from outer space in an alien egg or created in an evil doctor’s lab.
A giggle slipped from her lips. Quiet, the voice in her head whispered.
“Why?” Bethany whispered back before giggling again. Her head was really spinning now, like one of those fair rides that made you barf, so she plopped down on her butt. “Now I’m the baby in the grocery store.”
As she giggled again, her gaze fell on a set of books on the bottom shelf. The books were a rainbow of soft pinks and blues and yellows, and they all had fancy gold designs decorating the spines. Moving closer, she noticed a different name on each one. She read the names, pausing at one near the end.
Ellie. That was a good name. Like a superhero or the policewoman who’d saved her once.
Bethany slid out the album and opened the cover. The first page showed two photos of the same girl with pretty red curls and pale skin. Older than Bethany, maybe high school aged. Below the photos were cut out pieces of newspaper.
The little black words crawled across the page like ants at first, so Bethany shook her head and tried again. Better.
The article talked about the redheaded girl being kidnapped one night and how worried her parents had been.
Just like me. I bet my mama’s worried too.
Bethany flipped the page to find three photos of a different person. A woman. In the first picture, she scowled into the camera while holding up a sign. The other two were photos of the left and right sides of her face. The kinds of photos the police took when you were arrested. Bethany had seen it in a cartoon once.
She studied the photo. The woman didn’t look like a criminal, but then again, Bethany wasn’t sure what a criminal looked like. Plus, her mama was always telling her that not all crimes were the same, and sometimes, people did bad things for good reasons.
This woman had short, dark hair and wore lots of black eyeliner and purple eyeshadow, and her red lipstick was smeared half off her mouth and onto her cheek. There was an ugly black bruise on her face, and she was dressed weird, in a shiny pink top that was so tight, her boobs looked like they might pop out, and a black skirt that was way shorter than any of Bethany’s.
She read the name on the sign first. Sophie “Cleo” Finn. Sophie was a pretty name, almost as pretty as Ellie.
The next part of the sign made her frown. “So-li-ci-ta-tion.” Bethany sounded out each syllable but had no idea what the word meant.
She flipped through the rest of the book, stopping on the last page. Tucked inside was a shiny silver circle. Bethany stroked the DVD with a finger and wondered what was on it. Maybe there was a player hidden somewhere in the room.
Bethany lifted her head to search, and her hands went numb.
The bad man stared at her from the doorway, his face a dark cloud.
She dropped the album like a hot potato, but it was too late. His eyes narrowed on the book at her feet like he was mad, except when he glanced up, his face was blank. For some reason, that scared Bethany more. Even that creepy little smile was gone. He looked dead, or plastic, like a statue or a
