Although Renee didn't know how much time had passed, given that the sun had been up when Rosalind had left, and now it was well into the night, it must have been a while. She was still tense from physically trying to break free and fretting about the mess she'd made by giving Rosalind her information. But she was worried about Larry most of all. Sure, Rosalind had said she wouldn't hurt him so long as she helped her, but she didn't believe that for a second. If it had been the truth, Rosalind would have come back by now, eager to share how pleased she was for fooling everyone.

Or maybe that was just it.

Maybe she hadn't fooled everyone.

If there was one person she could trust to have figured out that Rosalind was an imposter, it was Larry. Larry, who knew her so well — too well, some would even say. Yes, Rosalind might now look identical to her, but she had only been around her for about a day; that wasn't enough time to mimic her effectively. She might be one of the coldest and cruellest people Renee had ever met, but she was ultimately still human. She had to have slipped up somewhere and somebody, likely Larry, would have picked it up. While the thought of someone catching Rosalind in her lie was at first reassuring, it also came with a churning sense of anxiety. Because if Rosalind knew that Larry knew she wasn't Renee, then there was no stopping Rosalind from shutting him up for good. Renee believed Rosalind would have wanted her to watch Larry's torture. But perhaps she was more concerned about being outnumbered. So, if Rosalind had Larry, it was at his house or another safe house. Hopefully, the former. It was a hunch, but she'd have to assume it was true, or at the very least, hope that getting to Larry's house would help her find him somehow.

She had to act fast. She had to get out of there because she was the only one who could stop Rosalind. While she'd tried to keep her efforts to break free somewhat discreet, if Rosalind was having 'fun' with Larry — a concept that sent chills down her spine — she wasn't likely paying attention to the security camera. She hadn't spoken into the microphone since she'd demanded more information all those hours ago, so she had to pray she wasn't keeping watch right now. Looking around the room, she focused on finding something sharp to pick the cuffs. A paperclip, a bobby pin, a small piece of wire — anything would do.

Despite how filthy and cluttered the basement was, she had no such luck. Renee tried to inch her way across the room, wondering if the lid of the oil drum was sharp enough to create friction to break the chain between the cuffs, but that wasn't any good. She kept intermittently looking at the security camera, expecting to hear Rosalind eventually threaten her but it really seemed she was occupied with whatever she was doing. That only made her feel worse. Chewing her lip in thought, she looked for something heavy but small enough to fit between her restrained grip. Her stomach rumbled, and she was quite dizzy. It had been a long time since she'd had anything to eat or drink.

Sighing, she leaned against the wall, breathing heavily. The sweater Rosalind had left her in was quite thin; she could feel the surface of the bricks scrape her skin. A brick was precisely the right kind of tool she needed. Renee tried to feel against the wall for a loose paver but found a pile of spare bricks in the corner, to her relief. Renee stumbled a little as she stood and held the brick out. She kept her feet far apart, so the chain between her ankles went taut. Hoping her vision wasn't severely impaired from fatigue, she dropped the brick between her feet and the chain shattered. She frantically grabbed one of the chain links and used the pointy edge to pick the locks on her wrists, flexing her hands and feet to regain circulation. She also yanked the security camera off the wall, watching the indicator light switch off. Hopefully, this would suffice as evidence of her torture.

Dashing up the stairs, Renee paused to catch her breath and stabilise herself again, finding the adrenaline rush was making her feel sick. Renee found herself in a dilapidated, empty house. There were a few supplies there, including a bottle of water that, after checking the seal was intact, she immediately drank about half of. She also found the bag of knives, hatchets, and God-knows-what-else that Rosalind had used to torture her and grabbed a couple of weapons to defend herself. The landline was dead, as expected, but she had to wonder whether Rosalind had left any burner phones lying around. She luckily found a cell phone in a small cupboard, but not her badge or gun to identify herself, as expected.

Turning it on, the phone immediately flashed the low battery warning, which meant she had to dial wisely. If she was only going to be able to make one phone call, it had to be someone who was going to help. Calling the police would take too much time to explain, or worse, they'd dismiss her entirely based on the outlandishness of her story. She thought about calling Larry and how relieving it would be to hear his voice but knew that, logically, if Rosalind had him, it was a waste of time. So, she called Janis. It took a few rings, but she thankfully answered.

"Gold." She mumbled tiredly.

"Janis, it's me."

"What? Of course, I know it's you, Renee. I didn't check caller ID because it's two in the morning and I don't have my glasses on, but I know what your voice sounds like-"

"N-No. You don't understand." She stopped to try and slow her breathing down. Her throat was still dry from screaming and yelling during Rosalind's torture. "The person who was with you at work today wasn't me. She's a serial killer. She had plastic surgery to look like me, and she's going to hurt Larry."

"What the hell are you talking about? Are you on drugs or something?" She sounded more annoyed than concerned, and Renee had to wonder whether Rosalind's behaviour at work had irked her somehow.

Grunting in frustration, she desperately tried to think of how to prove this. "Check the cameras in the parking lot from two days ago. Go to about ten at night. If you look at them, you'll see me go to my car twice. The first one is my imposter; the second one is me."

Renee heard Janis mutter something about grabbing her laptop. She tapped her foot impatiently, hoping she would find the footage before the battery died.

"Y-You're right. There's... there's two of you. Wait." Her voice hardened. "Then how do I know which one I'm talking to? How do I know this isn't some kind of trick? That she doesn't have a similar voice to you."

She didn't blame Janis for wanting that proof, and it at least meant she believed the story. But her safety wasn't the priority here; Larry's was.

"I will explain everything later, but we're running out of time. Please, I need you to send the FBI to Larry's house."

"I'm not doing anything until-"

"Would my imposter know what you did at last year's Christmas party? When someone brought the tequila and-"

"Hey! You promised you'd never bring that up again." She huffed. "Okay. I believe you. And, come to think of it, you were a real bitch today-"

"That wasn't me!" She exclaimed. "Just please, do what I asked."

"I will."

The phone died before Renee could thank her. Running out of the house, she realised she had no idea where she was, so wandering wouldn't help. She also doubted she'd see any cabs around at this time of night. There were faint tyre marks in the dirt, probably from her sedan that Rosalind would have taken to work. But there was also a larger set; there had to be another vehicle. The property she was on was quite large; she had to walk quite far before she finally found an unmarked four-wheel drive. Smashing the window with her elbow, she opened the door and started the engine without any issue. There was also a GPS. She put Larry's address in; his house wasn't as far away as she'd thought.

Renee gazed out over the horizon. "I'm coming, Larry."