Page 18 of Blind Prophet

Do they plan on keeping me in this room all day? Dorian’s thirty minutes equals hours.

I pace the room.

Check the window. It’s a double-hung window. I unlock it and lift from the bottom. It doesn’t budge. It’s stuck. Most likely from lack of use, not from any nefarious purpose. If necessary, I can break the glass.

This is ridiculous. I should try harder. I should insist on being taken to the house.

I knock on the door. “Hello?”

Nothing. I pound with the butt of my hand.

Nothing.

What is Dorian trying to prove? Why not let me wait in the house?

I sit on the edge of the bed and flick between news articles, debating my next move. How long do I wait before I break the window? I won’t call Sophia until I’m in danger. Calling on the team is a last resort.

The tree tops off in the distance sway. And then I hear it. A helicopter.

The door clicks open.

“That’ll be Mr. Moore. He won’t be long now.”

The older guard stands in the doorway, arms behind his back, gaze just above my head, black leather gun holster around his waist.

There’s nothing to do but wait.

CHAPTER5

DORIAN

The Airbus H160 lands with a smoothness derived from exquisite engineering. An employee heads over as I exit the helicopter. The rotor slows to a drumbeat.

“Mr. Moore. Will you be needing her again today?”

“Possibly. Keep her ready.”

“Aye aye, sir.”

The pilot’s an older, fit man with a shock of white tufts past a receding hairline and deep wrinkles around his eyes and mouth. I interviewed him. Spent his career in Naval Aviation. Retired in Colorado because his kids live in the state.

“Thank you, Rex.”

“No problem, sir.”

“I’ll let you know when you can put her away.”

“Yes, sir.”

It’s a long walk to the guardhouse, so I head to one of the golf carts we keep on the property. The key’s in the ignition, as expected, and I twist it and take off as my phone vibrates. It always vibrates.

Jay will access the messages. Flag the important ones. It’s the same with my emails. And around two or three in the morning, when the rest of the world sleeps, I’ll go through it all and respond.

My pressure on the accelerator lessens the closer I get to the guardhouse.

What does she want?

A divorce. Obviously.

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