Hypothermia occurs when a victim’s body temperature drops below 95 degrees Fahrenheit. They shiver, become clumsy, and have trouble thinking. They grow tired, and soon their heart and lungs stop working. Eventually—if they don’t warm up in time—they die.

Judging from your symptoms, you’re experiencing the early stages of this condition. You consider digging into your detective bag, but you already know nothing in there can help. You’re locked in a frigid vault, one that no wireless signal can penetrate. There’s no way to call for help and no way to open that door.

Or is there?

You study the entrance’s flat, metallic surface. There’s no handle to push and no knob to turn, but the news isn’t all bad. You spy a tiny, octagonal hole in the place where a doorknob would typically be. You recognize the hole as a safety release, built just in case anyone ever got trapped in here. It means that, hidden somewhere in this freezer, there’s a tool that fits perfectly into that hole, a tool that will unlatch the door and allow you to escape. You need to find it.

Your renewed hope warms you, if only for a moment. You begin ripping into the boxes of food, checking them inside and out. You scan every inch of shelf space. You search every corner of the room. You find nothing.

Where could they have hidden the tool? You try to guess, but every thought slips away like a fish through wet hands. The frigid air has begun affecting your brain, as well as your body.

You concentrate harder. You’re missing something, and you know it. There has to be another hiding spot, something you overlooked.

Suddenly, the idea you’ve been trying to grasp locks into place. You’ve been searching for a secret location, but the tool wouldn’t be hidden. It’s a life-saving devise for moments like this. It would be tucked away in an obvious spot. 

Like the ledge above the door.

You lumber forward, hunched over, unable to straighten your arms, legs, or back. You reach the door and stretch with all of your might. Every muscle within your body feels like it’s tearing, yet you extend farther, your fingertips fumbling around the ledge.

Thunk!

Something falls to the floor: a tiny, L-shaped tool.

Once again, hope pulses through you. You pick up the piece and try to fit it into the door’s hole, but your nearly frozen fingers refuse to cooperate. It’s like trying to tie your shoes while wearing a pair of oven mitts.

You blow into your hands. You rub them together. You stick them under your shirt. Anything to warm them. You try the tool again. This time, it slides into place. You’re saved. But even after you turn the tool and hear the latch click open, the door doesn’t budge. Something is wrong.

“Hello?” a familiar, muffled voice calls.

You glance at the window. Irene looks back at you. Her eyes are as big as golf balls, her mouth wide open. 

You don’t have the strength to wonder what she’s doing here. “O-o-o-pen the d-d-d-oor,” you stammer through chattering teeth.

“I can’t.” Her voice is frantic. “It’s padlocked shut!”

That’s impossible. If someone had stuck around long enough to padlock the door, you would have seen them. 

You turn your attention back to the safety release. If Irene won’t help, you’ll do it yourself.

“That isn’t going to work,” Irene tells you. “But there’s another way out.”

That gets your attention.

“Look above you,” she says.

You do, and for the first time you notice the giant, round fan built into the ceiling.

“That’s the ventilation shaft,” notes Irene. “If you can climb inside, it’ll lead you just about anywhere in the school.”

You stare at it for a moment. “H-h-h-ow d-d-d-o I get u-u-p th-there?”

Before Irene can answer, the fan starts to hum.

“Use the shelves like a ladder,” she says. “But you have to hurry. The fan will start running in a few seconds—and when it does, you’ll be trapped for good.”

A horrible idea occurs to you. What if Irene is behind everything? What if she’s trying to get rid of you? 

She didn’t show herself—didn’t suggest this new escape route—until you found the tool for opening the door. Maybe you were already on the verge of escape, and she’s trying to sidetrack you. Maybe this is Irene’s Plan B for eliminating you. After all, if you don’t time it just right, you’ll get caught in the middle when that fan starts spinning.

Do you trust Irene, or has this case been a set-up all along? It’s time to find out. One choice will lead you closer to the truth. The other will certainly kill you. What will you choose to do?

The Detective: You series takes the Choose Your Path book format to another level. Written for middle-graders, ages 9 to 13, these interactive mysteries cast readers as amateur sleuths who make choices that affect what happens next. Each book of around 140 pages gives children an opportunity to make about 20 decisions that help them identify suspects, gather clues, and use deductive reasoning to determine who’s guilty. Plus, challenging puzzles—such as mazes and secret codes—along the way, add to the books’ interactivity. The 5.25" x 7.5" books are priced below $10, and their video-game-in-a-book format appeals to boys and girls alike, including reluctant readers.