Page 132 of Capturing You

In the library bathroom,Brooklynn took the pebble out of her shoe, figuring she wouldn't see anybody else tonight, then checked her old-lady makeup. It was waterproof, so her tears hadn’t washed it away.

She adjusted the itchy wig, reminding herself to play her part, though she probably wouldn’t see anyone she knew between the library doors and the Uber she’d called to pick her up. It would deliver her to her Bronco parked at Frizzel Automotive a couple miles down the road. She’d grabbed her extra set of keys at her apartment.

She would just…drive away, which was what she should’ve done on Monday when this whole thing started. She should never have stayed at the mansion.

Studying her image in the mirror, she saw a sixty-something woman with Brooklynn’s red-rimmed eyes looking back at her.

She shouldered the yellow purse, grabbed her cane, and pulled open the bathroom door.

The hallway was darker than it’d been before.

She reached the entrance to the large room with rows of bookshelves. The lights were out.

Was the library closed?

She glanced at her phone’s clock. It was seven forty-five. Maybe the librarian had decided to close early? Odd that she hadn’t done a sweep to make sure nobody was there.

Great. This was Brooklynn’s reward for sneaking in. Hopefully, no alarm would sound when she snuck back out.

The front-facing windows let in a little light from the glow of the town and the fading sun. Cane swinging at her side, she headed that direction, aiming for the bright-red exit sign over the front door.

A noise stopped her.

“This way,” a man whispered.

“I’ll guard the door,” another answered.

Brooklynn recognized those voices.

She’d heard them from the inside of a very dark cave. And then again from inside a spider-infested box.

Bryce and Niles had found her. But how?

She shifted to the end of a bookshelf just as, on the other end, a man shined his flashlight between the stacks. When he moved on to the next aisle, she dashed in the other direction.

Her heart was thumping so hard that she feared he’d hear it.

In a corner between a wall and a shelf, she watched the first man’s flashlight beam toward the hallway where she’d just been.

There was probably an exit in that direction, which he’d find—and watch.

The other man said he’d guard the front door.

She was trapped.

Silently, she crept toward the librarian’s station. If she could get there and out of this very open space, she could call 911.

Staying low, she reached the counter, rounded to the narrow opening, and slid behind it. It was darker back here with no windows to let in light. She moved slowly, careful not to bump herself, the cane, or the cumbersome old-lady purse into anything.

She prayed they’d give up and go away.

A door opened and closed.

“Don’t just stand there. Search for her.” This was a new voice. There were three of them. “She’s gotta be here somewhere.”

How did they know?

Someone must’ve seen her come in. But who? And how did they recognize her?