Page 16 of Blind Prophet

“He’s asked that you wait here. He should be landing shortly.”

“Helicopter?” Understanding dawns. “He’s at the Denver office.”

We’d known that was a possibility. And it’s the best-case scenario. I’ll have time to scout the grounds.

“This way, please.”

The uniformed guard opens a wrought iron door to the side of the gate. As I approach, he reaches for my suitcase.

“That’s okay. I’ve got it.”

It’s an automatic response that lets him know I’m like him, a normal person living an ordinary life. I don’t need others to handle my baggage. My staff comprises me, myself, and I.

“It’s no problem, ma’am.”

He reaches for the bag again, and this time, I step past him, grip firm on the handle.

The winding asphalt road leads up to the main house that sits atop a crest with stunning views of the San Juan Mountains. Here at the gate, we’re much lower, and the view is a mix of mostly barren trees and evergreens.

It’s too late in the season for fall foliage. Brown, dried leaves cling to limbs here and there. Mounds of curled dead leaves line the sides of the woods. The grounds crew must blow the leaves from the road and the paths on a regular basis.

The uniformed guard swings a door open to the two-story stone house, and I read his gold-plated name tag.Lewis Weston.

“Please, he asked that you wait inside.”

I narrow my eyes, wondering why he has me waiting here at the entrance. Is he hiding me? From whom? A girlfriend? If that’s the case, I can’t blame him for keeping me out of her path. It will be challenging to explain. Luke’s terse,“You’re married?”still stings, even though Dorian and I are nothing to each other. I argued that we were legally separated, and he asked,“Were you going to tell me?”

What a mess.

The truth is, I wasn’t going to tell Luke, because I didn’t plan on going out with him again. But when put on the spot, I said,“Yes, of course.”

I told Luke we needed to focus on the project. I’d been annoyed that he had any expectations of me. And we do need to focus on Project Unity.

Here I am, in Colorado, and I need to focus.

The scent of paint fills the air, and the rumble of the suitcase wheels over the polished concrete floor mixes with the sound of air flowing from a nearby vent. Along the hallway, rifles hang in neatly lined racks along the wall.

“Is this building new?”

I remember the gate and the guardhouse. My memory is hazy on what was on this side of the road when I visited before.

“Yes, ma’am. This building replaced a much smaller one. All before my time, though.”

“Are you new?”

Lewis slows by a room with a single bed and a window with a view of the woods.

“Been here a little less than two years,” Lewis says. “If you wouldn’t mind waiting here.”

I scan the corners of the room for cameras. If Dorian’s plan is to meet me here and then send me on my way, I won’t get any valuable information for the team.

“In the past, I’ve waited in the main house. Is that possible? I don’t need to be in your way.”

“You’ve been here before?” I read his tone and the tilt of his head. He’s skeptical.

“It’s been years,” I say, since I obviously haven’t been here since he’s been employed. “But I love the library. It’s my favorite room, and the view is spectacular.” I look out the window wistfully, envisioning the view from the main house high above. “It’s like a fortress tucked away in a mountainside.”

“The mountain house is spectacular,” he agrees.

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