How Perfect You Are (Carlson College Mysteries Book 1)

by Isabel Fox

  I made my way into the kitchen. The components of what looked to be quite a feast were scattered around the counter. Steaks were sitting on a wooden cutting board, salt and pepper already sprinkled across the surface. A loaf of french bread, a bag of salad, and several potatoes were also there, along with half a dozen different spices.

  A quick glance revealed no sign of a chef’s knife, and I didn’t want to risk making too much noise going through the drawers. My hopes were renewed, though, when my gaze fell on a back door in the mudroom tucked off the kitchen.

  With a quick look to make sure Ashton’s attention was still on Drew, I opened the freezer door and pretended to rummage around for an ice bag for a moment before I hurried to the door. I started to turn the knob slowly, but to my dismay it only turned a fraction of an inch before catching.

  “Shit,” I muttered, noting the deadbolt that, like the one in the basement, had to be unlocked with a key. What was it with this house and deadbolts?

  “What’s wrong, Cassie?” Ashton’s voice came from behind me, causing me to jump. How had he gotten over here without me hearing him? Was he secretly part stealth drone?

  I mean, he has been stalking you for a year without you knowing… I thought bitterly. I forced a weak smile.

  “Ashton. I couldn’t find an ice pack, so I thought maybe I could get some snow and pack that in a Ziploc baggie?” The excuse, stupid though it was, fell out of my mouth.

  Wordlessly, his gaze never leaving me, Ashton backed up to the refrigerator and opened the door to the freezer. He reached in and grabbed a bag of frozen peas, then held them up, his eyebrow arched.

  “Oops,” I let out a forced, self deprecating giggle. “I was looking for an actual ice pack. My bad. So...do you want me to go ahead and call an ambulance?”

  Ashton sighed, a long, low sigh. “Cassie,” he said, his tone miserable. “Why are you trying to leave me?”

  His words surprised me, and for a moment I couldn’t respond.

  “Uh...I wasn’t, I just thought that maybe, you know, we had talked about Drew needing a doctor, and I was just-”

  “Stop lying!” Ashton’s yell was loud, and I felt my eyes widen in surprise.

  “Ashton, look,” I said, holding a hand up. Quickly I took a few steps past him and back towards the couch where Drew was, apparently, really going all out on the pretending to be unconscious thing.

  “Ashton,” I repeated, now looking for the front door. Concussion or not, I was ready to start running and not stop until I found someone- anyone- else. “Please. You have to let me go. You have to see how silly this is. Drew’s hurt, I’m hurt, we both need to see a doctor. We can’t stay here.”

  At my words, Ashton’s face seemed to soften. “Of course! Cassie, I’m so sorry. I wasn’t even thinking. Of course you’re hurt! You were just in a car accident. Here, you should sit down. Let me get you some water, and some aspirin.”

  Ashton grabbed my elbow and dragged me to the end of the sofa where Drew was still sprawled in fake unconsciousness. Putting his hands on my shoulders, Ashton gently pushed me down and then hurried off to the kitchen.

  What just happened? I wondered. Talk about Jekyll and Hyde. Looking around, my gaze fell on the front door across the room. I wasn’t sure I could make it very far without Ashton realizing what I was up to, and I had a feeling I would need a head start. I reached out and shook Drew’s non broken leg.

  “Drew. I think you can stop now. He’s on to us,” I hissed. Drew gave no indication of having heard me. Frowning, I shook his leg a little harder. “Drew!”

  “He won’t wake up, Cassie,” Ashton again appeared in front of me without so much as a sound, a glass of water in his hand. He passed it to me along with several small, white pills. I was thirsty, but accepting drinks from any strange men had long since been ingrained in me as a big no, let alone when the strange man in question had kidnapped me. I also had a feeling that aspirin wouldn’t even begin to touch the raging headache I had going on.

  “What...do you mean?” I asked, looking back a Drew. Had Ashton drugged him with sedatives, or something?

  “He won’t wake up. I took care of him,” Ashton said simply. I froze. No. He couldn’t possibly mean…

  “You killed him?” I breathed, feeling the air rush out of my lungs. I felt light headed again, and the room seemed to spin. The water glass fell from my hand and landed with a loud thunk on the floor.

  “I had to, Cassie. It was the only way I could protect us! Don’t you see? Drew would have ruined everything. He almost did ruin everything.”

  “When he found out you’d stolen my cat and you had to lock him in the basement to keep him from telling me, you mean?” I snapped, my voice shrill with near hysteria. Standing up abruptly, I bent at the waist and tried shaking Drew’s shoulders. He couldn’t really be dead. Surely Ashton was just trying to scare me into compliance.

  “Drew! Drew, come on, wake up!’ I raised my voice. Drew was still. I stared for a minute, watching closely, and realized there was no rise and fall to his chest. He wasn’t breathing. He was really dead. Shocked, I stumbled away from his body, trembling. This could not be happening.

  “Cassie, it’s okay,” Ashton reached out and tried to pull me away. I jerked my arm out of his grasp and knelt next to Drew, still shaking him, hoping his eyes would pop open and this would all be a big mistake. Ashton grabbed my arm again, this time more forcefully. He pulled hard, jerking me to my feet.

  “Come on. Let’s get you out of here,” he suggested, his voice still annoyingly calm and gentle.

  “No! I have to help Drew,” I said, struggling against his grip.

  “He’s gone, Cassie. You don’t have to worry about him anymore. It’s just us now,” Ashton tried his best to sound soothing, but his words offered me no comfort. A sudden wave of nausea gripped me, and before I could stop myself I was on my knees again, vomiting violently.

  “Cassie, come on. Let’s get you off the floor,” Ashton said, reaching down and pulling me to my feet. I tried to push him away but my knees buckled weakly.

  “This way, down the hall. You need to rest. You’ve had a big shock,” Ashton continued murmuring platitudes, half dragging, half carrying me down the hall.

  “No. No. Let me go,” I struggled ineffectually. It was like all the energy had been sapped out of my body. My arms and legs seemed foreign and heavy and altogether useless.

  Ashton hauled me the rest of the way down the hallway into what appeared to be his bedroom. It was surprisingly tidy, I noted with surprise. The bed was neatly made with a large red quilt. The bookshelves were orderly, with the spines arranged by color, just as my own bookshelf was.

  What really caught my attention, though, was the corkboard on the wall next to the bed. It was massive, taking up over half the wall. It was situated much lower than was visually appealing, almost as if the person who had placed it had wanted to be able to look at it while they laid in bed.

  Most of it was covered in photos of me. Based on my attire in some of them, I could tell they had been taken as far back as last spring. There were photos of me with Amber, Jenna, and Brooklyn, photos of me walking on campus, photos of me at the gym, and a few others I couldn’t immediately place. The most alarming, though, was one of me in bed, with my eyes closed, sound asleep. Unless I was very much mistaken, it had been taken the Friday this had all began, way back when this had all seemed like my overactive imagination. How I wished that had been the case.

  Any space that wasn’t filled with photos seemed to have some kind of Cassie memorabilia. An earring I’d been missing was tacked in one corner, along with an old, ratty t-shirt I was pretty sure I had thrown away during a spring cleaning spree. There was a copy of my final essay from my global studies class dangling from the edge of the board, and a hair tie that I could only assume had been mine at some point. There was also a tissue dotted with dried burgundy blood.

  “What the hell is this?” I breathed, horrified. I stepped backward and b
umped directly into Ashton, who reached out a hand to steady me. I quickly moved several feet away. My legs were still weak, and I had to grab onto the dresser to stay upright.

  Ashton seemed to misunderstand my surprise. “Isn’t it great?” he said cheerily. “This is my room, but since it’s going to be our room now, I wanted to make it feel a little more “you,” you know? You see that picture over there?” He pointed vaguely to one corner of the board. “That’s one of my favorites, I love that dress on you. And I don’t know why you got rid of that t-shirt, it fit you so well…”

  Ashton went on, pointing out the various things on the board. Apparently the bloody tissue had been one I had used and discarded after getting a bloody nose on campus one day earlier that semester. He had fished it out of the trashcan. The more Ashton spoke, the farther away he sounded until it was almost like I was hearing him from under water. My stomach dropped even lower than I thought possible. The terrifying realization that my troubles weren’t going to stop with Drew’s murder started to sink in, and in response my whole body began shaking and shivering again. My breath came in short, quick gasps.

  “Cassie? Are you alright?” Ashton was beside me now, putting an arm around me and attempting to guide me towards the bed. No, no.

  “Bathroom,” I managed to gasp. Ashton pointed to a door on the other side of the room. I left him standing in the middle of the horrifyingly decorated room and quickly shut the bathroom door behind me. Locking the door, I spun around, hoping there was a window I could climb out. There wasn’t, though, and my hopes of escape were again dashed. I struggled to take a few deep breaths and wondered if this was what it felt like to have a panic attack.

  My back pressed against the door, I felt myself slowly sinking to the floor. Tears were now streaming freely down my cheeks. I had no idea what to do. Ashton had killed Drew, his best friend, for ruining his plans. What would he do to me, the object of his desire, if I didn’t go along with him?

  “Cassie?” I heard Ashton’s voice call through the door. “I’m going to...uh...go clean up, okay? You just rest for awhile. Everything will be okay. I promise!” I heard the sound of retreating footsteps and the bedroom door closing.

  Clean up. By which he must have meant get rid of Drew’s body. Because he had killed him. I heard a sobbing, gulping sound, then realized with alarm that it was coming from me. Tears streamed down my cheeks. I closed my eyes, feeling exhausted and defeated.

  Moments later, though, I felt something soft bump up against me. I opened my eyes with a start.

  “Willow!” I exclaimed, scooping her furry body into my arms and pressing my face into the rough around her neck. Glancing around, I saw the door to a linen closet slightly ajar.

  “I’m so glad to see you,” I whispered to her. Willow seemed to share the sentiment. Rather than struggling to get away, like she might have under normal circumstances, she allowed me to hug her tightly and she purred enthusiastically. I stroked her soft fur, gradually feeling my panic subside. A growing resolve replaced it, and my mind rapidly ran through my options.

  “It’s okay, Willow. I’m going to get us out of this. I’m not sure how, but I promise I will,” I said, meaning every word. I gave my cat a final pet, then stood up and prepared to face the music.

  41

  I opened the door slowly, half expecting Ashton to be back in the bedroom waiting for me. The room was empty, though. I used my foot to keep Willow from racing out into the room, hoping she would be safe in the bathroom. Then, thanking my lucky stars for small blessings, I crept over to the window and fumbled with the stiff latch.

  Finally I managed to push the window open, and I leaned out into the snowy night. It was hard to tell with the rapidly deepening snow, but it seemed that the cabin was built into a steep hill. The ground was a solid story, maybe more, away from the window with no trees or conveniently placed trellises nearby, making it a less than ideal option for escape. I wasn’t sure even my normal, uninjured self could have managed it.

  “Damn it,” I muttered under my breath.

  “What’s wrong, Cassie?” I heard Ashton’s voice behind me. I jumped, startled, and just narrowly missed smacking the back of my head on the window. I tried to keep my composure, though.

  “Just getting some fresh air,” I lied, realizing I was going to have to move on to Plan B. Unfortunately, Plan B was only loosely formed in my mind. Oh well.

  “Ashton, listen,” I continued, giving him a stern look. He gazed back at me, his blue eyes wide and completely unconcerned. “I have to get out of here. I really need to go see a doctor. My head is killing me. I almost definitely have a concussion. That’s pretty serious.”

  “You know, there’s really not a whole lot they can do for concussions,” Ashton replied matter of factly. “They’d just send you home to rest, which is what I’m trying to get you to do right now. Let me take care of you, Cassie.”

  I was pretty sure that in these particular circumstances they definitely would not just send me home, but I wasn’t trying to argue just now. “Ashton, if you get me to a hospital, you’ll be a hero,” I said, trying another approach. “You’ll have saved me. How romantic is that? Saving the life of the woman you love in the midst of the blizzard of the century?”

  “We can’t go to the hospital, okay? We just can’t,” Ashton insisted as he took a step closer to me. I took a step away and felt the backs of my thighs bump into the bed. I was cornered.

  “Wouldn’t me be nursing you back to health in a cozy mountain cabin be just as romantic?” Ashton continued. His voice sounded just short of begging, and he took another step towards me and reached out to stroke my hair. He got a dazed look in his eyes, almost as if he was unaware of what he was doing. I shuddered at his touch, but he didn’t seem to notice. “I’ll take such good care of you, Cassie. I know! I’ll run you a warm bath. You can relax while I finish cooking dinner. You like baths, don’t you?”

  “You know what I like more than baths? Not suffering from a traumatic brain injury after being kidnapped by an absolute psycho,” I retorted. I hadn’t intended to speak so harshly. My vague idea for Plan B had been to gently cajole Ashton into doing the right thing, not insult him. But his proximity and touch had scared me, and I had snapped out of fear.

  Slap. The sound hung in the air, both of us looking at one another. An instant later, the side of my face began to throb and my eyes watered. In my surprise, my knees weakened and I sank to the bed, staring up at Ashton in shock as my hand flew to my stinging cheek. He stared back, eyes wide and nostrils flared. His hand was still poised threateningly.

  “Don’t call me that,” he said, his voice a steely whisper. “I’m not a psycho. I’m not crazy. You just don’t see that yet.”

  “Ashton,” I said, fighting back another wave of fear. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that. But please, you have to see you can’t just keep me here forever. This storm will pass, and my friends will come looking for me. Drew’s family. Our coworkers. They’ll figure out what happened.”

  “By then we’ll be long gone,” Ashton said calmly, getting a faraway look in his eye again. “As soon as the storm lets up I’ll get you in the car and we’ll leave. My parents own lots of rental properties, not just this one. They have another cabin up by Waccamow Lake. It’s beautiful there, miles from anything. Wouldn’t you like that? Just you and me, tucked away from the world?”

  “Ashton, please,” I begged, tears pricking my eyes. “I don’t want to go with you. You have to let me go.”

  “Shh. I know why you’re not acting like yourself. You must be tired. I’ve noticed that you don’t sleep nearly enough, Cassie. You’re always on the go, my busy little bee. You spend so much of your time doing things for other people who don’t appreciate you, who don’t deserve you. But I’m going to change that. I’m going to take care of you. You rest now, and I’ll finish dinner and come get you when it’s ready. Unless, of course, you want to skip straight to dessert.” He reached down and planted a
wet kiss on my still stinging cheek. I recoiled and scooted further away, but he didn’t seem to notice my revulsion. He just shot me wink that he probably saw as flirtatious but was really just painfully creepy. Then he left, shutting the door behind him.

  Okay, deep breaths, Cassie, I told myself, struggling to remain calm. Panic wasn’t going to get me out of this. I had to think.

  I stood up and moved in a slow circle, looking around for something I could use. A weapon, a previously unrecognized escape hatch, anything. Not immediately seeing anything other than a disturbing number of pictures of myself, I made my way to the dresser. I pulled open one drawer as quietly as I could, then another, rifling through dozens of t-shirts and boxers, all neatly folded.

  Just when I was about to give up, my hand grazed over something cool and hard. I grabbed it and pulled it out. A cell phone!

  Hardly daring to breathe, I pressed the power button and prayed more than I ever had in my entire life. When the familiar Apple logo popped up on the screen I wanted to cheer.

  I figured this must be Drew’s phone that Ashton had taken from him. Of course he had a passcode on it, but then again I didn’t need a passcode to dial 911. I just needed the 5% battery to be enough to make the call.

  Creeping to the bedroom door, I shut and locked it with minimal noise before dialing 911. The line rang once, then connected. Even under these circumstances, it occurred to me that I’d never gotten to call 911 before. It wasn’t nearly as exciting as I had once imagined it to be.

  “911, what’s your location?” a female dispatcher’s voice said.

  “I don’t know what my location is! Hell?” I blurted unhelpfully in a stage whisper before trying again, more calmly this time. “My name is Cassie Morgan. I’ve been kidnapped and I’m not sure where I am.”

  “Cassie Morgan?” there was a tone of recognition in the dispatcher’s voice. “Cassie, we’ve been looking for you. Can you tell me what happened?”

  “Ashton Masters has been stalking me. He was following me and I crashed my boyfriend’s car and must have passed out, because when I woke up I was in his cabin, or I guess it’s his parent’s cabin, I think. He’s been holding his roommate Drew Newsome hostage too. Except I’m pretty sure Drew is dead now. And I think I have a concussion or something because my head really hurts and sometimes my eyes won’t focus and I’d really love it if someone could come get me right now, because apparently Ashton wants to take me somewhere else,” I babbled, my words spewing out so quickly I wasn’t sure the dispatcher would be able to understand me. I was so relieved to be talking to someone who might be able to help, though, that I couldn’t calm down.