Chapter 5 - The Morning Visitor
Morning broke over the Blue Ridge Mountains with a harsh, glaring light reflected off twelve inches of fresh, untouched snow.
By seven-thirty, I was fully dressed in a heavy wool sweater, dark jeans, and my boots, sitting on the edge of the four-poster bed. My leg was still partially numb, a dull, nagging reminder of the compromised hardware sitting against my spinal cord, but the fear kept me sharp and alert.
At eight o'clock sharp, the sound of a heavy vehicle driving up the snow-covered driveway echoed through the house.
I walked to the window and pulled back the curtain. A sleek silver sedan had parked near the front porch. A man in a dark tailored overcoat stepped out, carrying a black leather medical bag.
Dr. Aris Thorne.
He was a tall man in his late fifties, with slicked-back gray hair and a sharp, angular face that looked like it had been carved out of granite. He moved with cold, clinical precision as he walked up the stone steps into the lodge.
A knock sounded on my bedroom door.
"Rebecca," Daniel’s voice called out, firm and commanding. "Dr. Thorne is here. Come downstairs."
I picked up my phone, checked to ensure Agent Bennett's encrypted tracking app was active in the background, slipped the brass letter opener into my coat pocket, and unlocked the door.
Daniel was standing in the hall, wearing a crisp sweater and slacks, looking entirely refreshed as if the terrifying events of the previous night had never occurred.
"Good morning," he said, offering a tight, empty smile. "You look rested."
"I'm ready," I said simply, stepping past him into the hallway.
When we reached the main living room, the atmosphere was markedly different from the wild, drunk celebration of the night before. The wine glasses had been cleared away. Elaine sat on the sofa sipping black coffee, while Richard stood near the fireplace talking in hushed tones with Dr. Thorne. Melissa was nowhere to be seen.
When I stepped into the room, Dr. Thorne turned his cold gray eyes toward me, a practiced, polite smile spreading across his lips.
"Rebecca," Dr. Thorne said, stepping forward with his hand outstretched. "It is so good to see you again, though I wish it were under better circumstances. Elaine told me you had a little tumble last night."
I didn't take his hand. I kept my arms folded across my chest. "It wasn't a tumble, Dr. Thorne. I was tripped."
Elaine let out a short, irritated sigh. "Here we go again."
Dr. Thorne didn't lose his composure. He set his medical bag down on the coffee table and unzipped it smoothly. "Well, let's take a look at you, shall we? I brought some portable diagnostic equipment and a mild anti-inflammatory injection to help ease the muscle spasms in your lower back."
He reached into the bag and pulled out a pre-filled syringe, holding it up to the light to clear a tiny bubble from the tip.
My pulse spiked into overdrive. Do not allow him to administer any medication.
"No," I said, taking two steps back toward the entryway.
Dr. Thorne stopped, his brow furrowing slightly. "Rebecca, this will help with the pain immediately—"
"I said no," I repeated, my voice rising, filling the large room. "I'm not letting you put anything into my body."
Richard stepped forward, his massive frame looming over the table. "Rebecca, stop acting like an ungrateful child. Dr. Thorne drove through a snowstorm to help you."
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"He didn't come to help me," I said, looking straight into Dr. Thorne's cold, calculating eyes. "He came to finish what he started eighteen months ago."
The room went completely, utterly silent. The only sound was the crackle of the logs dying in the hearth.
