Code of Silence by Heather Woodhaven

don’t know that yet. Don’t give up hope.”
    The sound of the lid popping open snapped her out of it. “What’s in there? More clothes?”
    Luke grinned as he reached inside. “A flashlight, bottled water—” he tossed a twenty-ounce bottle to her “—blankets, granola bars.” He frowned and pulled out a dangling Pinocchio wooden puppet and a ten-inch doll dressed in a traditional Sicilian costume. “Were these yours?”
    Gabriella moved to a kneeling position. “I think they used to be my mom’s toys, but I did play with them once.”
    He pulled out a canister of pepper spray, his expression hopeful. “You think this still works?”
    She reached past his outstretched arms and picked up a granola bar. “Check the expiration date.”
    He twisted the can and squinted at the small print. “Three years old.”
    â€œThen, no.”
    He gave her a side glance. “I can’t imagine it wouldn’t still be effective even after the expiration date.”
    â€œOh, it’d still be potent, but that’s not the problem. It’s the aerosol spray part. After the expiration, there is a higher probability it’ll get clogged.” She opened the wrapper to the bar. “Not worth the risk. The last thing we need is to pepper spray ourselves.”
    She could feel his eyes studying her. “How’d you know that?” he asked.
    â€œMom sent me with pepper spray to college. She never did anything without making sure she had all the facts. She was the queen of preparation, and she made sure I was, as well.” The metal screeching sound started up again. She jerked and accidentally brushed against his arm. The touch made her long for a hug, but she didn’t want to send mixed signals—or worse, open herself up for rejection. No doubt he was wishing she’d never stepped into his office. “Clock is ticking, Luke. We need to get out of here.”
    â€œI’m aware.” He ran a hand through his still-damp golden hair. It spiked up. “I’ve checked the walls and the tops of the shelves. I don’t know what else we can do.”
    Her stomach grew hot and heavy as if her veins pumped molten lead. “You’re not implying we should give up and wait to die? To let my aunt die?”

SIX
    L uke gritted his teeth. An unseen vacuum in his chest made his rib cage seem hollow with the pure frustration of not being able to fix things. His memory taunted him with what he should have done differently, both years ago and today, but that wouldn’t help them now. “You know I’m not implying we give up, Gabriella.”
    He sat back on the floor and joined her in eating a granola bar. He huffed. “I had hoped to take you to dinner tonight to catch up.” He held up the stale bar of oats. “Not exactly what I had in mind.”
    Gabriella put a hand on her chest. “You wanted to go to dinner?”
    He couldn’t read if she was just surprised or concerned. “Yeah, we used to be good friends. I regret not staying in touch.”
    Her shoulders dropped, as if relieved. Luke wished she looked more eager. He needed to focus on the here and now before he embarrassed himself. “Let’s put our heads together. We’ve been avoiding the obvious—who might notice we’re missing? Anyone expecting to hear from you or meet you tonight?” He steeled himself for the answer.
    Her eyes turned downcast. “No. I wish. I’ve only been in town since the funeral. My friends and I were going to get together Sunday night. I don’t think we can last two more days in here.” Her eyes drifted to the ceiling. “Well, we could, but my aunt—” She inhaled sharply.
    Luke recognized the signs of shock. She was going to crumble if he didn’t help keep her focused. “No one else would be trying to call you? Get in touch? No appointments