Page 49 of Caging Liberty

I slip out of the unnecessarily tall heels and pick them up with a finger hooking each one. After one more deep breath, I gently slide the door open just enough for me to squeeze through the gap. I plant my toes onto the cool concrete with a delicacy that’s more fitting for entering freezing cold water.

No one looks my way.

I move my whole body outside, ease the door shut behind me, and speed walk along the patio, my shoulder brushing brick as if my new home will shield me.

My eyes point toward the grass, all my focus on getting there. It feels like it takes an eternity, and I expect at any second for someone to yell out at me or for a spotlight to blind me, but the splashing and laughs continue, and I never hear my name.

When I step onto grass, I finally throw a look back at the pool. The two women sway on the men’s shoulders and flail their arms to try to shove the other into the water.

I break off into a sprint toward the tree line, my heels swinging in my grasp, and don’t look back until I’ve safely made it to the clearing. I crouch and peer at the people, my chest heaving from running with panic. I nearly laugh when no one notices me.

I shuffle backward, then stand up straight once I’m out of sight.

The gate Desiree told me about comes into view, and I take the dirt path toward it. I hold my breath while typing in the passcode she gave me, my hands shaking so badly the heels jostle. When I hear a buzz and the gate unlatches, I let out a rush of air.

I slip my shoes back on, but the heels dig into soft earth as I make my way down the path, so I ditch them and continue on barefoot.

I squint into the darkness, only the stars lighting my way. I make it maybe a minute before a stick crunches under my foot, and I stumble.

“Shit,” I wince, bending to inspect my foot. I rub the sole and feel nothing but dirt, so I don’t think the skin is broken.

It starts to feel like I’ve been gone a long time, so despite now having to hobble down the path, I pick up my pace. Every few seconds, I look over my shoulder, half-expecting to see Sawyer chasing me.

My breaths are loud and shallow, and when I make out the building Desiree told me about up ahead, a victorious yelp bursts from my mouth.

Hope floods me and sends tears to my eyes. I hurry to the building, no longer concerned with my foot.

I’m surprised by how big the structure is. It doesn’t at all look like the sinister crematorium I pictured in my mind, more like someone’s home. There’s a back patio with a table and firepit which is also suspicious.

Am I at the right place?

I look up ahead but don’t see any other buildings. Would Desiree really have overlooked this? Maybe it’s not just a crematorium. Maybe that part is in the basement.

I search for a lit-up window but don’t see one, so I walk to the sliding glass door, reminiscent of the one I just went through, and I tug it open.

My feet touch tile, and in the tiny bit of natural light that illuminates the place, I make out that I’m in a kitchen. I search for a light, and when I flick it on, more confusion sets in.

It’s definitely a house.

I frown as I walk past a kitchen table and into a living room.

“Hello,” I call out, twisting my head side to side to see if someone will jump out of the shadows.

No response. Good.

I step into the kitchen in hopes of finding the door to the basement, still convinced I’ll find what Desiree told me about. I swing it open, flip on the light, then descend the steps. Bottles of wine lining a shelf come into view, and my frown deepens. It’s just a wine cellar.

Something’s wrong. I’m not in the right place.

Why didn’t Desiree tell me there was a house along the path?

An uneasy feeling forms in my stomach as I make my way back upstairs, but I don’t lose hope. No one’s home, and there could still be an office here.

There could still be a phone. Or a computer. Orsomething.

I make my way through the kitchen and living room before trying a door down a hallway beneath the staircase.

Bathroom.