Page 45 of Hidden Falls

I closed the door; there was no lock on it to keep anyone out, but I could drag the chair that went to the fancy little desk in the corner over and put it under the knob if I wanted to keep it shut. That made me feel a tiny bit better.

I stared up at the frosted glass dome light in the middle of the room; it probably had a camera in it. I needed to remember that.

I was ready for a wash, but I didn’t want to bathe in that giant tub with some perv watching.

I grabbed the gilded little chair and took it into the bathroom, setting it under the frosted dome light. I stood up on it and unscrewed the nipple thing in the middle, removing the light cover.

Nothing there but a couple of LED bulbs.

I put the glass dome back on, feeling stupid but relieved, and climbed down off the chair to start the bath.

* * *

I wore a dress for dinner.

I hadn’t worn one since prom last year, but of all the weird clothes in the closet, the dress I ended up putting on felt the most “me.” Black, made of heavy T-shirt material, it fit me perfectly. I always hope black makes me look skinnier—I’m short with one of those bodies with stubby legs and big boobs that isn’t really fat but pretty much always looks like it is in clothes.

This dress, with its scoop neck, tight waist, and full skirt just below the knee, showed that I wasn’t entirely a cow.

Though why I’d want to look nice for a kidnapper . . . I almost tore the thing off and put my old clothes on when that thought crossed my mind, but Noella was already knocking, and I hadn’t had time to do anything with my hair.

Not that there was much that could be done; it was a long, thick, bushy mess as usual, and the humidity of the bath hadn’t helped.

“Is there time to do anything with this?” I pointed to my head when I opened the door to her.

Noella cocked her head. “I think we can be five minutes late.”

I stood aside and she walked in. “I put some hair things in the bathroom for you,” she said over her shoulder, moving through the room like she’d been there many times.

A sick thought occurred to me—maybe I was here to be the sex slave of a serial killer. The many clothes in the closet, in so many different sizes, could be there because I was one of many women who’d been and gone from this strange room.

My mouth went dry.

Noella turned to face me with a hairbrush she’d taken from the drawer in the bathroom in her hand.

My voice was a squeak.” Have you seen a lot of girls come and go from this room?”

Her eyebrows pulled together; she was confused. “What do you mean?”

I pointed to the hairbrush. “Everything in here . . .”

“Is for you,” she finished. “No other girls, no.” She almost smiled. “You don’t need to be afraid. It’s not what you think.”

“What is it, then?”

She didn’t answer, just put a hand on my arm and turned me to face the mirror, and then brushed my hair.

I closed my eyes. Having my hair brushed reminded me of being little when Mom had done my hair. She’d wanted me to keep it long, and she braided it, or put it in ponytails . . . she’d done my hair for prom, too, in a nice twist with flowers tucked in around it.

Noella handed me a tissue without saying a word, and I dabbed my eyes. She braided my hair with quick, firm movements like it was something she did every day, and then she put a rubber band on the end.

“There.” She patted my shoulder as she smiled at me in the mirror. “Much better.”

I looked pale, my eyes puffy, my nose pink—but yeah, my crazy hair was out of my face. “Sure, thanks.”

I tossed the tissue in the trash and walked behind her to whatever came next.

I followed Noella out of the elevator and stepped out onto the bottom floor of the mansion, where I’d entered with the two men who’d grabbed me.

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