Page 119 of Don't Cross Mo Ellery

“Leslie,” I say evenly, forcing myself to be a confident grown-up. “It’s over. You can’t kill all five of us.”

She blinks at me, wiping a stray hair out of her face, but instead of politely agreeing and handing over the syringe, she grabs Hannah.

In the blink of an eye, that old woman is holding the syringe to my best friend’s neck.

Hannah struggles to free herself, but Leslie is like a damn boa constrictor, and Hannah’s struggling just brings the syringe closer to her jugular.

My whole body goes numb.

“Everybody throw your phones in the sinkhole,” Leslie says, sticking Hannah with the tip of the needle, just enough to make a thin trail of blood run down her neck. “Now.”

Tond is first, and throws it quickly, almost eagerly, like he wants to be the best hostage. It hits Benny on the way in.

“Ouch,” Benny echoes from below.

“Oops,” Tond says, by way of apology.

I reluctantly take my phone out and drop it over the edge, while Hannah, bent awkwardly to accommodate Leslie, blindly reaches for her phone and drops it in front of her, so that Leslie can kick it in.

Merle holds his out, like he’s about to follow suit, when his wife stops him. “Not yours. There’s some pictures of Charlie I want.”

He dutifully slips it back into his pocket.

“Leslie, please don’t do this,” I say, hoping that the phone thing has appeased her enough. “Let’s quit while we’re ahead.”

“Upgradersnever quit,” Leslie says. “Right, Hannah? I amUpgrading myself.”

“The acronym doesn’t really support that conjugation,” Hannah whispers and then cringes, clearly realizing you don’t correct someone about your branding when they’re holding you hostage.

And sure enough, that just makes Leslie madder, and she actually shoves the needleintoHannah’s neck.

“Acronymthis!” Leslie cackles.

“Mo!” Hannah screams.

“Hannah!” I cry.

“Boo-bear!” Merle pleads.

“Everybodyshut up.”Leslie looks around frantically. “And... um... nowyouget in the sinkhole.”

“Not a lot of room down here,” Benny calls up.

“Shoes on or off?” Tond asks, confused. The man is such a total chaos hostage, I don’t know whether to thank him or kick him.

“On. No, off. Wait, give me a second,” Leslie mumbles, unsure and frustrated.

Tond nods, sympathetically. “First time?”

Meanwhile, I can’t stop looking at the syringe. She hasn’t pushed in the plunger yet, but that doesn’t mean she won’t.

Okay, stay calm. Leslie is desperate to feel competent and impressive. So that’s what I’ll help her do.

What Ireallywant to do is blurt what I figured out about the case, but this isn’t about me and my ego. Not yet. Right now, it’s about keeping Hannah safe. So I play dumb.

“I’m dying to know how you pulled all this off,” I say. “You couldn’t have—no, it’stooclever.”

Leslie narrows her eyes at me. “You don’t think I’m clever?”