Tell the cops everything. Someone needs to know what’s happened,” I plead, desperate for him to get out of here before he ends up buried behind the woodpile too. “Tell them my name is Madison Perkins. Tell my mom—” I can’t finish the sentence because my throat closes up. The boy clips at the handcuffs again. The metal is almost halfway cut through. “I’m Drew.” “What?” “I’m Drew. You’re Madison. Now we’re not strangers. I leave when you do. He doesn’t get to do this to anyone else, ever again. Understand?” He looks up at me with furious blue eyes, and the argument dies in my throat.
