DEAD IN BED By Bailey Simms: The Complete Second Book

PART 11, AUTHOR'S NOTE - 2/13/15, 2:11pm

I can't believe it, but I got see Kyle! I actually got to see Kyle!!! Somehow, my refusal to write actually worked!

I'm still glowing from being with him after all these days, and even being able to touch him. I'd been so afraid that I'd never, ever see him again. And suddenly there he was, in my room.

Still, things didn't exactly go as planned. In fact, there was a moment when things started to go horribly wrong. Well, for a moment they did go horribly wrong. And now I'm not exactly sure where we stand with cop.

I'll try and do my best to explain.

I was just sitting here in this room's oppressive silence, preparing myself for what I worried was going to be another long standoff with the cop and days on end of hunger.

Then, suddenly, the door swung open and somebody stumbled into the room, pushed from behind.

It was Kyle. I couldn't believe it.

He was wearing the same clothes as he'd been wearing when we were kidnapped, and he looked tired and haggard, but unhurt. The door slammed behind him and the lock clicked.

I ran to Kyle and put my arms around him. He held me tight. For a long time neither of us could even say anything, we just stood there holding each other. Then I started to cry, and he even started to cry a little, and we just held each other tighter.

Finally, he held me by the shoulders and looked me over. "Are you hurt? You're okay?"

I shook my head. "I'm not hurt. Are you—"

That's when I noticed something encircling Kyle's neck: some kind of slender, transparent string.

"What is this?" I looked at it more closely.

Kyle put his fingers between the plastic string and his neck, gingerly trying to keep it loose. Only now did I see that it was tied, like a noose, at the back of his neck. The plastic string trailed out of the room under the door.

"It's like, fishing line, I guess," Kyle said uncomfortably. For fishing line, it was pretty thick; it must have been a type for extremely large, heavy ocean fish. "He told me he'd let me see you only if I wore this."

Kyle gave the line a tug. It unspooled through the slot under the door, then, after Kyle had pulled in a few yards, it went tight as if it were tied to a doorknob or something sturdy in the hallway outside. He'd pulled in enough length, though, to be able step over to the bed and sit down. Now the plastic string trailed from his neck and snaked loosely across the room before running beneath the door.