Chapter 3 - The Blindfold
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Twenty minutes later, she sat in the back of a black SUV with a silk blindfold over her eyes and her treatment bag pressed tightly against her knees.
The leather seats smelled of expensive cologne and gun oil. To keep from panicking, Clare counted the turns. Left, right, a long stretch on the highway, another right. She reviewed the anatomy of the lower spine in her head. Lumbar vertebrae, sacrum, nerve roots, the sciatic nerve.
Neither counting nor anatomy helped much. Her hands were shaking. Gabriel sat in the passenger seat in absolute silence.
“We are almost there,” Gabriel’s voice broke the heavy silence. “When the blindfold comes off, you will speak only when spoken to regarding medical matters. Do you understand?”
“Yes,” Clare said. Her throat was incredibly dry.
The vehicle slowed, tires crunching over gravel, then echoing as they drove into what sounded like a massive underground garage. The engine cut off. A door opened, and a rush of cool, damp air swept over her face.
Gabriel guided her out of the SUV. They walked onto a private elevator. She felt the smooth ascent, her stomach dropping slightly. When the doors chimed open, Gabriel reached out and pulled the blindfold from her face.
She blinked against the soft, warm lighting. She stood in a bedroom larger than her entire apartment building. Floor-to-ceiling windows revealed that they were high up; Lake Michigan moved blackly beyond the glass, a massive, churning void in the night.
A fire burned beneath a grand stone mantel.
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Beside the fire sat a man in a sleek titanium wheelchair. He was looking out at the lake, his back to her, but his presence dominated the massive room.
Clare tightened her grip on her medical bag. She had just walked into the lion's den.
