By the time they reached the mudroom, Lily was crying from shock more than pain. She twisted free for half a second and backed against the dryer.
Carol pointed at the crate.
“Get in.”
Lily stared at her. “What?”
“You heard me.”
“No.”
Carol crossed the room in two strides, seized Lily by the upper arm, and shoved open the crate door. Lily stumbled, lost her balance, and fell to her knees against the cracked plastic tray.
“Carol!”
“Maybe a few minutes in there will help you calm down.”
Lily scrambled toward the opening, but Carol slammed the wire door shut between them.
For one suspended second, Lily still believed this was insane enough to end immediately. An adult could not possibly be serious. Not really.
Then Carol bent down, reached into the laundry basket on top of the dryer, and pulled out a small brass padlock Lily had seen before on the side gate.
“No,” Lily whispered.
Carol threaded the lock through the crate latch.
“No, no, don’t—”
The padlock clicked.
It was a small sound. Clean. Final.
Lily lunged forward and gripped the bars.
Carol rose, breathing hard, her hair slipping loose around one side of her face. “You will stay there until you learn not to threaten people in their own home.”
“It hurts,” Lily said. “Please let me out.”
“You should have thought of that.”
“I’m sorry.”
“I don’t care.”
