Dark Conclusion (Charli Cross Mystery Series Book 10) by Mary Stone

Author:Mary Stone [Stone, Mary]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Mary Stone Publishing
Published: 2024-10-14T00:00:00+00:00

20

After an eternity of fitful dreaming, Chelsea’s eyelids fluttered open. Why was she so groggy?

That question soon gave way to a much more pressing one.

Where am I?

Last she remembered, she was at the movies with Abby. And now? She took in the dingy interior lit only by a few bare bulbs scattered throughout the space. There was a table in the far corner and a staircase with a door at the top. The absence of windows convinced her that she must be in a basement.

How did I get here?

Unwelcome memories flooded her mind. A man grabbing her and shoving a needle into her before tossing her like a rag doll into the back of a gray van. Waking up sometime later only to be drugged again.

With a cry, Chelsea jerked herself completely awake. She tried to sit up, but something stopped her, yanking her back down.

Turning her head to the side, she made out restraints on her wrists and ankles. She was tied to a bed, unable to get up. Terror knifed through her.

Heart pounding, she rotated her wrists in their bonds, testing them. Sweat poured down her back despite the chill in the basement. The ropes were looser than she would have expected, and she twisted one hand, tucking her thumb in toward her palm. Stiff, coarse fibers burned as they slid with agonizing slowness over the back of her hand. She squeezed her fingers together so tight, they ached and began to throb.

“Please, please, please…”

She had no idea how long she’d been out or when her kidnapper would return, so she worked as fast as she could, grinding her teeth against the pain.

Her hand slipped partway through, the rope catching on her knuckles. After arching her fingers back to the point of agony, Chelsea yanked as hard as she could, and her hand came free. With a gasp, she pulled her other hand loose, the rope dropping next to her head.

As she sat up, something caught her eye. Carved into the headboard were two initials. M.F. Who did the initials belong to? Someone else had been captive here, long before her by the looks of it. Hot acid burned Chelsea’s throat as she tried not to think about M.F. and whatever might have happened to them.

Instead, she turned her attention to her own predicament and how she was going to escape. As her fingers pried at the knots on the ropes binding her ankles, she prayed the door at the top of the stairs was unlocked.

If she were a kidnapper, she would have locked the door, but maybe he was sloppy, assuming she’d still be unconscious or she wouldn’t have been able to untie her hands. The knots on her ankles were proving far more stubborn. As she worked on them, her skin burned with the friction, and she bit her lip to avoid crying out in pain.

She looked back up the stairs. With the ropes so tight, she wouldn’t be able to do anything but hop. And

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