21 Dares: A Florida Suspense Mystery (20 page)

She
waited for an answer,
then
typed.

Again
there was no answer. After a minute, she typed.

Several
long seconds passed before Abbie’s phone chirped.
 
It was a video file of McKenzie. She was
crying, pleading for her life. The video stopped.

“I
don’t think this is a joke,” Abbie said.

“What’s
going on?” Susan leaned against her. “What’s he texting you?”

“He
wants me to crawl out on the ledge and take a selfie.” She looked at the narrow
brick ledge. The perimeter wall was barely a foot wide. It was a thin strip,
with a very long drop down the side. The street was five stories below. Abbie’s
phone chirped again with another text message.

Her
phone chirped, but Abbie didn’t open it. It went off again as she stepped to
the short perimeter wall. The wind picked up. Her phone chirped. Abbie climbed
atop the narrow ledge.

She stood.
Stretched out
her arms.
Swallowed.
She balanced there, right arm flapping, then the left one.
She placed a hand on the edge of the fire escape railing. She gripped the metal
railing, stabilized. She leaned into the breeze and looked down at the street
five stories below.

Like
little action figures, Dharma and the twins huddled in a mass, heads raised. Dharma
pointed. Lindsey yelled. Abbie could just hear the tone of their voices really.
She trembled as she held out a hand and turned her phone toward her. She snapped
a photo.

Immediately
she jumped off the ledge and planted her feet firmly on the concrete rooftop.
She brought up the photo on her phone and sent it.

“I’m
sending the selfie,” Abbie said. Then she turned to Susan. “We’re done with
this. Let’s go.”

Susan
ran to her, hugged her. Turning, they headed for the door as the wind whipped
around them. Abbie’s phone chirped,
then
Susan’s phone
dinged. Susan released Abbie, and grabbed her phone. They hesitated at the
door, reading the new text message.

“Great.
Now it works.” Susan looked up from her phone. The color drained from her face.
“I can’t do this. I just can’t.”

Abbie
looked down at her screen.

 
“No,” Susan said. “I’m afraid of heights. I
can’t do it.”

Abbie
reached for her. “What about McKenzie?”

“I
don’t care.” Susan pushed her hands away. “I can’t do it. I just can’t.”

“Then
let’s call the police,” Abbie said. “I don’t know what else we can do for her.”

Their
phone dinged again. Both girls looked down, read the message.

 
“I’m texting him back,” Susan said. “I’m not
going through with it.”

“Agreed.
It’s over,” Abbie said. “He’s just going to have to accept that.”

Their
phones dinged. A new video came through of McKenzie. It zoomed in on her face.
Her eyes were swollen and bloodshot. Tears smeared her cheeks. A masculine hand
waved a box cutter in front of her nose.
Swirled the sharp
blade toward the camera, then back again.
It swiped her cheek. McKenzie
screamed. Blood gushed from the cut.
Dripped from her chin.

“Stop
it!” Abbie gripped her phone with both hands. She sent a text back.

Susan
shook her head. “I don’t know if I can.”

“Hey,”
Abbie said, forcing a smile. She tried to look brave. “What would Buffy do?”

Susan
didn’t return the smile. “I’m not a fan of the show.”

“All
right, then,” Abbie said. “When it rains, look for rainbows and when it’s dark,
look for stars.”

There
was a long pause, as if Susan was absorbing those words. She shook her head.
“How the hell is that supposed to help me?”

“I
don’t know. It’s something Clinton Reed says.” She took Susan’s hand in hers. “We’ll
do it together, okay?”

Susan
trembled. She gripped Abbie’s hand. Together they stepped to the ledge. They climbed
onto the short wall. Standing, they had an unobstructed view of the city, and the
street five stories straight down. Abbie could make out Dharma and the twins
below. Dharma’s arm shot up as if she was waving, pointing. Lindsey’s voice
carried in the wind.

“Ignore
them. Don’t look down.” Abbie tried to keep her voice steady. “Just look at me.
Keep your eyes focused on me.”

Standing
on the ledge, Susan gripped Abbie’s left arm.

Abbie
raised it, held up her phone, struggled to aim it. Susan was in the shot. She
wobbled out of the shot. She leaned back in. Just as Abbie was about to snap the
photo, her cell phone chirped.

Susan’s
phone dinged in her hand, startling her. Her foot slipped.
Suddenly upended, she fell off the
ledge. Her phone dropped out of her hand. Her back hit the fire escape and she
grabbed the railing. She tried to claw her way onto the black grate, but the
best she could manage was a last-second grasp of the slippery guardrail.

Abbie
fell next. Her chin scraped the ledge. She landed flat on the top of the wall,
face down. She reached for Susan.
Stretched her right arm as
far as she could.
Grasped Susan’s fingers.
She
struggled to hold Susan’s hand. Dangling in the air, Susan pulled Abbie’s arm. Abbie’s
body dropped an inch over the ledge. She tightened her grip on Susan’s hand.
She could hear the girls below. They screamed, cried for help.