by Lorenz Font
Greg gave a silent sigh before answering. “Yes. It looks like it’s never going to end.” His tone sounded curt, despite his best efforts to keep his annoyance at bay.
At long last, the elevator saved him from the unwanted small talk. “See you later, Lewis. Say hi to the missus for me.”
Greg waved to him before stepping out of the elevator. Pushing his sunglasses down to cover his eyes from the sun’s glare, he headed to the glass door a doorman held open for him.
“G’morning, Mr. Andrews.”
“Hey, Juan.” Greg marched straight to the waiting limousine, and Simon closed the door after him. In the confines of his chauffeured car, Greg let out a ragged breath. Here’s to another day of tests, inconclusive results, and nothing solid to go on. How can doctors scratch their heads and repeatedly come up empty and still have jobs?
Granted the woman, this Sarah, had successfully saved his life by removing the bullet and transfusing him with her blood. Although the surgery had been crude and performed under less than optimal circumstances, his test results showed no permanent damage in the affected area.
Greg’s heart and fists clenched at the same time. Even though the doctors didn’t understand the allergic reactions from the blood transfusion, there had to be medication to alleviate the nausea spells and the poor balance he’d been suffering from ever since. For heaven’s sake, this was the twenty-first century. There had to be a corresponding treatment for every disease imaginable, and yet the doctors couldn’t even come up with a name for his affliction. They just called them “side-effects.”
He stared straight ahead and hoped no small talk would be necessary for the rest of the day. A wide range of concerns needed his attention, from work to his parents. And of course, there was Cade …
Now that was his top priority—as well as dealing with her …
Once Simon had taken the passenger seat next to him, the limousine purred and joined the city’s morning rush hour. Out of the corner of his eye, Greg saw Simon regarding him with mild curiosity. As the head of the company’s security, he had been one of the few people who knew the truth about what had gone down in Alaska. Simon had volunteered to act as Greg’s bodyguard until he was back and up on his feet.
A reliable and loyal employee, Simon could always be counted on. In his late forties, Simon was as physically fit as a twenty-year-old, sporting a muscular physique underneath his everyday uniform of a leather jacket and denim pants. Since Greg stayed cooped up in his penthouse most of the time, this arrangement also gave his security man the much-needed vacation he deserved. As long as Simon understood his boss’s need for privacy and quiet, they’d get along fine.
Greg had decided to keep everything on the down low for now, until Cade was found and apprehended. Until then, he’d continue to have his soon-to-be ex-wife followed. The more dirt the PI dug up on Cassandra, the better Greg’s case against her would be.
Smirking, he settled on the plush leather seat. With his eyes closed, he focused his attention on the mark his mysterious savior had left on him—the heady scent of cedar and mint had been engrained in his brain.
After yet another disappointing meeting with Dr. Kemp, Greg walked out of the clinic still without a firm grasp on what was causing his frequent spasms and dizziness. His hemoglobin level had been tested several times and checked out okay. The doctor’s latest absurd suggestion was to hire a personal caregiver to help him with basic chores. In short, Dr. Kemp wanted him to get a babysitter.
Just because Greg had money didn’t mean he spent it irresponsibly. His doctor had come up with a list of recommended nurses who were available at the drop of a hat, but Greg had snorted at the idea and stormed back to the waiting car, ready to explode.
“Nothing again?” Simon pushed the button for the glass divider. The partition came up, ensuring their conversation would be private.
“No.” Although he’d intended to say nothing more, Greg ended up blurting out the doctor’s ludicrous idea. “Dr. Kemp wants me to get a nurse. A caregiver who can help me out while I regain my strength and remind me to take my medicine, like I’m a child.”
Simon chuckled, as usual. He might have been a man of few words, but he was certainly not one to miss the humor in any given situation. “Did you tell him to go to hell?”
“Yes.”
The ringing of his cell phone prevented him from replying further. Greg pulled his Blackberry from his trouser pocket and checked the caller ID, recognizing the number of a private investigation firm. “Trevor, I’ve been waiting for your call.”
Greg listened to the head of the firm speak for several minutes.
“Are you sure that’s what happened?”
Again, information came in a rapid-fire flood that included proof, names of witnesses, and sources.
“Then proceed as planned. I want it clean. Cover your bases.” He paused and listened. “Yes, I know how much you’re charging. Don’t worry about the money. No trace, all right? And no one gets hurt. I’ll handle the rest from my end. Thanks.”
After he hung up, he smiled at Simon, who had been looking at him with a strange expression.
“There’s been a change of plan. I’m going to listen to Dr. Kemp’s advice and get someone to help me after all.”
The autumn air was crisp when Sarah stepped out of the main building to head home after her last class. The days were shorter now, a far cry from the late sunsets she was used to in Beaver. She hugged her sweatshirt closer and braced herself for the two-mile walk back to Cheryl’s house. Unlike Alaska, Los Angeles at nine in the evening still bustled with activities, cars continued to race by, and people littered the Westwood campus like the circus was in town. Back home, the only sounds she’d hear during her night walks were chirping crickets and the dense silence distinctive of their quiet town.
She missed home, and she missed her father. Regardless of what he had said, Sarah couldn’t fault him for the decision he’d made. He had his people’s best interests at heart. Being a leader came with big responsibilities, and that meant being an example to his people, even if it led to sacrificing his only child to prove his point. Her actions had come with a high price, and she was paying it.
Sarah turned left on Wilshire Boulevard, a busy thoroughfare, before she reached the section of houses a mile away. Cheryl’s father had suggested she take the well-lit routes as much as possible, considering her lengthy walk to get home. The entire trek would take about thirty-five minutes, enough to get her mind all worked up.
Her main concern these days was her tuition fee. Ahila had made it clear that the tribe would stop paying for her schooling. With her hectic class schedule, all she could manage was twenty hours a week at the campus bookstore. If she was going to cover her food expenses and incidentals, she’d have to find a way to earn more.
Once she’d cleared the busy street, the lampposts illuminating the way were more spread out, giving just sporadic specks of light in the general vicinity. Sarah lengthened her steps, wanting to cut the walking time as much as possible. A nondescript car stopped a few feet away just as she was about to cross the street. She stepped back and waved, trying to allow the car to pass. Instead, the doors opened, and three men got out and moved in her direction.
Sarah clutched her backpack tighter, wishing more than ever that she had a cell phone. This would have been a perfect time to practice being a good citizen by reporting suspicious activities or run into an active member of the neighborhood watch. A few vital seconds passed before she realized she should run. She broke into a sprint, but she hadn’t even gotten a few yards before strong hands gripped both her arms and yanked her back. Another hand was clamped over her mouth, making screaming impossible. A piece of cloth was tied over her mouth, and she was carried back to the car, kicking at her captors in a futile attempt to get free. They shoved her in the passenger seat, sandwiching her between two muscular men. That effectively squashed any hope of escape. Before she could take mental notes of her abductors’ fa
ces, a blindfold covered her eyes.
A deep voice came from the front of the car. “I will say this once. We’re not going to hurt you if you sit still and stop fighting.”
Sarah wanted to yell obscenities at the man trying to quiet her down, but the cloth covering her mouth muffled her angry protests.
Just when she’d thought her life was in the biggest mess possible, this happened. This experience tipped the scale from “mess” into “hopeless and shitty” territory. Tears burned her eyes, and she sent fervent, silent pleas to Dotson’Sa to make sure her suffering would be quick and painless. What were these goons going to do with her? Kill her? Rape her? The possibilities made her cry with terror and desperation.
Chapter 6
Sarah alternated crying with occasional attempts to beg for mercy around the gag, yet her captors stayed silent. They never relaxed their grip on her, either. They’d said she wouldn’t get hurt if she stopped fighting. Could she trust her abductors’ assurances?
Many scenarios raced through her head. Maybe this was some kind of payback. Or perhaps the Medical Board had found out about the unconventional surgery she’d performed in Beaver and decided to throw her in jail. If that was the case, though, how come these people didn’t identify themselves before taking her? Nothing made sense, and her thoughts swam in a sea of fear and uncertainty.
In the enclosed space, the only distinguishable sound was the car’s humming engine and the muted songs on the radio. The car had been cruising for about twenty-minutes, and she guessed from the swooshing sound of other cars that they were on the freeway. If they had been driving along residential roads, the traffic would have been more stop-and-go.
Forcing words past the gag, she tried again. “Where are you taking me?” Silence answered her once more. She could hear the annoying sound of someone chewing gum in the front passenger seat and the guy on her left drumming his finger on the glass window.
“Please, can someone answer me?” her muffled voice pleaded one more time. Her request fell on deaf ears.
After a few minutes, the car came to a stop, and Sarah jerked her head up, holding her breath and hoping the blindfold would be removed. It didn’t happen. Instead, they ushered her out of the car without a word. Once her feet were planted on solid ground, the new sounds around her struck her as odd.
Most of the noise seemed to come from engines, propellers, gusts of wind, and the sound of planes taking off and landing nearby. Where in God’s name had they taken her? Sarah stayed where she was until someone took her elbow, guiding her forward. She shook the hand off and refused to move.
Whispered conversation swirled around her, but the roar of engines and buzzing propellers made it difficult to understand anything. Growing more hopeless with each passing second, she made a final attempt to break free from her three-man entourage by turning back to the car. It was a bad decision on her part. Huge bodies surrounded her like a brick wall, and then one of them slung her over his shoulder.
At that point, Sarah lost her bearings altogether. Rage engulfed her, and she began pounding on the man’s back with all the force she had. No matter how hard she struck and hit, no one hit her back. The only response she got was a grunt of pain and irritation from the man who held her like a sack of rice.
Before Sarah could strike out again, her arms were pinned to her back, rendering her helpless and disheartened. Without the ability to scream, she started to cry, feeling more scared now than ever.
When she was a child, her mother had made her memorize prayers in their native language, even if she’d barely understood their meaning. “If you’re ever in a dire situation, say this prayer and you shall feel comfort.” In her hysterical state, she began praying out loud in the words her mother had taught her. Her suspicion that they were putting her on a plane was confirmed when she heard a female voice welcoming them aboard. The woman was abruptly shushed by one of the men. Sarah was lowered into a seat, and then her wrists were bound in front of her, and a lap belt secured her.
Sarah continued to chant her prayer, although quieter this time. She kept repeating the words until exhaustion took its toll, sending her spiraling into a restless slumber after the plane took off to its unknown destination.
When Sarah awoke, it felt like she was resting on a bed of clouds, so soft and luxurious. She smiled, never imagining she’d ever get a chance to touch the fluffy cotton, ever. They’ve always been out of grasp, something she admired from afar. This time, she laid on them, not just enjoying the experience but also loving the glorious sensation.
If she were dead, then she must be in heaven. Her smile got bigger. At least Dotson’Sa had heeded her prayer for a quick and painless death.
Sarah recalled her mother saying that heaven was whatever you wanted it to be. It could be a bed of clouds, songs of happiness touching your heart, a remarkable scent of the most fragrant flower, and peacefulness unknown to man.
She must be in heaven. Her hand caressed the fluffy clouds again, and another grin spread across her face. When she opened her eyes to feed on the images of her own utopia and her vision adjusted, she noted light yellow walls with stenciled flowers. Among them were her favorites—forget-me-nots and stargazer lilies. She basked in the beauty surrounding her.
Her eyes traveled to the furniture. It was exactly what she would have envisioned for her perfect sanctuary. The toile upholstery had been paired with black, distressed wood tinged with gold specks, and the overall effect was breathtaking. It was the sort of room you would only see on television or in home decorating magazines. Sarah’s gaze traveled upward to where a canopy spread across the expanse of the bed. Dainty and ethereal, its panels were also made of the same sublime toile material.
Sighing, her mind raced back to her father, wondering when they would meet again. Then she thought of her mother. Could their separate heavens ever cross paths? Did individual heavens find an intersecting point where happiness could flow freer? She marveled at the idea and let the comforting thought warm her.
Still basking in the scents and visions of happiness, she heard a tap coming from her heaven’s door. She rolled her eyes at the errant humorous idea that crossed her mind. Someone wanted to see her—an angel perhaps?
With the grace of pleasure coursing through her, she replied, “Come in.” Even her voice sounded dreamy, and that made her beam with radiance.
A short, plump woman with graying blond hair and dressed in a starched white uniform walked in. Her cautious expression was replaced with a welcoming smile the instant their eyes met. “Good morning, miss. I gather you slept well?”
Sarah’s smile dimmed. It was as though a record had been playing a beautiful melody until someone scraped the needle across the vinyl. Her bubble burst.
She looked at the woman with a blank expression.
The face of the angel, or whoever she was, lit up. “You were mighty tired last night when you arrived, so Simon brought you here to your room.” The woman stopped at the foot of the bed.
Well, wasn’t that dandy? Sarah even had someone named Simon carrying her to bed. She lifted the clouds that were wrapped around her like a cocoon and pushed herself up into a sitting position.
“I was?”
This heaven was fast becoming more odd than divine. Sarah scrutinized the material she’d first thought was a bed of clouds. Scooting to one side of the bed, she ran her fingers on the goose down comforter and brought it to her nose to give it a sniff. It was luxurious, all right.
“Yes, miss.” The woman moved toward the curtains and pressed a button. In an instant, the drapery receded from sight and the room was bathed in sunlight. She looked over her shoulder at Sarah. “Do you prefer breakfast in bed, or are you planning on joining Mr. Andrews?”
That was Sarah’s cue to jump out of bed, panic returning to claw at her. This wasn’t heaven, and the woman standing before her wasn’t an angel. “Who are you? Where am I? And who is Mr. Andrews?” she screamed in terror while she backed away from the woman,
finding herself next to the floor-to-ceiling window. She whipped her head to check for an escape route, just to discover that they were at least thirty floors from the ground.
“My name is Matilda. I’m Mr. Andrews’ nanny. Well … I was a long time ago. I’m his housekeeper. I apologize that I can’t answer your other question. I’d rather let Mr. Andrews answer that for you.”
Matilda stayed in her spot and did not approach Sarah, who at that point felt like a scared cat after a cold shower.
So the heaven she’d been dreaming of was, in fact, some kind of hell? Would someone pinch her now and tell her she’d been punked?
“Matilda, did you know I was kidnapped?”
Astonishment crossed Matilda’s face, and she scolded Sarah. “Mr. Andrews wouldn’t ever do that. In fact, why don’t you get dressed and join him in the dining room so you can set everything straight with him.”
Sarah stared at the woman, dumbfounded.
The older lady strode to mirror-paneled double doors at the far end of the room and opened them. “Clothes in your size are all here, as well as shoes, which were ordered for you.” She pointed to neat rows of outfits, which were arranged by color scheme, and another little closet within a closet, which held shoes of different colors, styles, and heels.
“I don’t know who he is,” Sarah croaked.
“He sure sounded like you kids were well acquainted. Now, why don’t you wash up while I tidy your bed? Dress warm, just in case you two go for a walk. Bless his heart, he sure needs it.”
Sarah took a step back, eyeing every exit point in the room. It’s obvious that Matilda adores Mr. Andrews, Sarah thought. Because of that, she knew the woman wasn’t someone she could rely on for help. Her brain started thinking a mile a minute. She’d have to plan her getaway once Matilda left the room.
“Fine, I’ll meet Mr. Andrews for breakfast, but please leave me for now. I’d like a moment alone.”
Matilda nodded her head in understanding, no doubt thinking Sarah had lost her mind. The woman walked to the door, but not before she gave Sarah a final, fleeting glance. “The dining room is down the hall to your left.” She tilted her head before closing the door.