Chapter 7

TRICIA

I had tried on six outfits.

Six. I'd laid them all out on my bed like a crime scene investigation, stood in front of my mirror in each one, turned sideways, turned back, and asked my reflection increasingly desperate questions like "does this say girlfriend or does this say hostage."?

I'd settled on a deep emerald dress. It was simple, elegant, the kind of thing that said I am calm and put-together and definitely not panicking" . My phone buzzed.

From Christopher: I'm downstairs.

I looked at the time. 8:52.

"He said eight."

I grabbed my bag, did one…