Free The Collector by Victoria Scott Page A

Annabelle and Blue. “I’m so sorry, guys. I tried to call your cells to tell you about tonight.”
    It’s no biggie.” Annabelle shrugs a shoulder and smiles. “Next week.”
    When I notice Grams is staring at me like she’s about to offer a one-way ticket to her bedroom, I decide it’s time to roll. “If you’ll excuse us,” I say, “I’m going to take Charlie with me now.”
    Grams and Annabelle shuffle so we can reach the door, and Blue shoots me an I’d-like-to-cut-your-Achilles-tendons look.
    I place my hand on the small of Charlie’s back and lead her from the house. As I’m opening her car door, Grams steps outside and yells, “Home by midnight, or I’ll whip you both.”
    Charlie cringes, waves at her grandma, then slides into the passenger’s seat. I close her door and jog to the other side and get in. As I back out into the street, I notice a blue Nissan parked in front of her house. It has about the same appeal as a ninety-year-old with a heroin problem.
    “Whose car is that?” I ask.
    Charlie points a finger at the POS. “That’s Blue’s blue. We call him Scrappy.”
    I decide that’s why Blue and Annabelle rode the bus to volunteer this morning. That thing makes a unicycle seem like reliable transportation.
    Charlie is staring at me.
    “What?” I ask without turning toward at her.
    “Nothing,” she says. “You just look really nice. And I’m really happy you’re taking me to this party.”
    “You are? I figured you might be having second thoughts.”
    She shakes her head and tugs the top of her dress up, which is suddenly having an issue trying to cover up her chest.
    “Well, that’s good.” I start Liz and pull out into the street. “I want you to let loose tonight. Try some things you wouldn’t normally try.”
    “Like what?” she asks.
    “Nothing crazy,” I answer. “It’s just…look, you don’t like when people judge you and your friends, do you?”
    She shakes her head.
    “Then just try to be open-minded and not judge the people at this party. You never know, you might even have fun.” I reach over to turn on the stereo, then stop. She doesn’t like the radio , I remind myself.
    “Okay, I’ll be open-minded,” she says.
    “Yeah?”
    “Yeah.”
    With Charlie here beside me, I realize it was crazy to think she knows what she’s capable of. Not a chance. She has no idea she has a stash of glittery pink seals inside her body, and I’m definitely not telling her. The less she knows, the better.
    I squeeze her knee and concentrate on finding Taylor’s house. We drive the rest of the way in silence, and strangely enough, it feels perfectly normal. Eventually, Elizabeth Taylor pulls off onto a dirt road, and we take it for a quarter mile. At the end of the makeshift road is an enormous two-story farmhouse with a wraparound porch on the top and bottom levels.
    Music is blasting from the house, and a smile finds its way to my face. I park the car and open Charlie’s door. She bites her lip, and I tell her everything’s going to fine. But that’s not entirely the truth, is it? Because this party isn’t going to be fine .
    It’s going to be the beginning of her end.

Chapter Eleven
    The Party
    I knock once, then let myself in.
    Charlie doesn’t move from outside the doorway. “Shouldn’t we wait out here?”
    “No, Charlie. If you’re invited to a party, you just go in.” I’m going to have to be careful tonight. She’s not used to parties, and I need her to mesh so she doesn’t get all holier-than-thou.
    Charlie trails in after me like she’s expecting an alarm to sound.
    Inside Taylor’s fridge, I grab myself a beer. “What do you want to drink?” I ask as I pop the top and take a pull. The beer rushes down my throat, and I shiver from how damn good it feels.
    “Oh, I’m not drinking.” Charlie bites her nails and glances around. The kitchen is empty. In fact, the whole house is empty. Party must be in the back.
    “Come on, Charlie. We