The Girl in the Wall Read Online Free

probably weird that I’m sitting around thinking about an old movie when my dad is dead (not thinking about that) and my party is being held hostage. But then according to the psychiatrist my dad made me see after the Mexico stuff, I have issues with handling “vulnerable” feelings.
    The Assassin watches closely as the agent in back goes around, but everyone is eager to do exactly what they are told and soon the agent in back is filling a bag with the newest, most expensive technology money can buy.
    As the collection continues I think about what The Assassin said. It’s a good plan. The party is supposed to last all weekend so by the time any parents would expect their kids home or call to check up on them, The Assassin, his boss, and his agents will be long gone. I wonder how they knew about the party—the details were under wraps for security reasons. I’m guessing they paid off one of the household staff to find out the exact plan. My dad isn’t exactly the nicest boss so it probably wouldn’t have even taken that much. And if they somehow came in under the guise of being security for Hudson Winters, then it was really the perfect opportunity. They sweep in, take their hostages and—
    Wait. Their hostage was supposed to be me. Wasn’t it? I know Hudson Winters is probably a millionaire, as are a bunch of kids in my class, but that’s loose change to my dad, whose company brings in billions every quarter. We are beyond rich so if they’re coming in here with machine guns, we are the obvious ones to take. Which is why we were being led from the room at gunpoint. Well, my dad and the person they thought was me. So what happens now, when their hostage is gone and the source of their money is dead? How could they have killed the person who was going to give them what they wanted?
    The answer I come up with has me suddenly shivering in a cold sweat. There is one last party guest still to arrive tonight, one who wasn’t planning to show up until after the concert because he said “teenager music” gives him a headache. My dad told him that was a surprise considering he lived his life like an eternal teenager but he just laughed, like he always does. That’s my Uncle Marc. Immature, yes, but seriously the nicest guy. And the only person besides my dad who can touch the company funds. I don’t even want to know what they’d do to get him to sign over the money but Marc is pretty wimpy. I don’t see him holding out very long if they start pulling out his fingernails or whatever it is guys like this do to get what they want.
    I have to do something to warn him. He was supposed to get here around eight but knowing Marc that means nine. That gives me—I check my watch—two hours. I stand up, ready to start making a plan, but then I hear The Assassin’s voice again. He is holding the bag stuffed with phones.
    “Just in case anyone thought it might be a clever idea to hold back a phone or computer device, we have cut off all Internet service to the house,” The Assassin announces. “And anyone caught with a cell phone will be shot, though first we will shoot the two people nearest to you, just so you understand our feelings about your lack of respect for our orders.”
    Wow, these guys are so not here to play. But then why would they be? What’s at stake is a multibillion-dollar fortune.
    “Every room is guarded including the bathroom so the only thing you will not have is privacy. But eat, talk quietly, and sleep, whatever you want. In twenty-four hours it will be over and you will be safe and sound back in your mansions.” He gives a small salute and heads out, leaving the other agents to watch over the group.
    I stagger back against the wall. Twenty-four hours. He said we’d be kept hostage for twenty-four hours. Earlier, when he said “soon” I assumed they’d be finished and out of here by midnight. But twenty-four hours means they will still be here tomorrow at noon. That’s when Stella is dropping