Page 12 of Her Wicked Plan

“Guess I’ll find out.”

“You sure will.” He nudges his chin forward, gesturing ahead of us. “Because we are here.”

Shit. That was the quickest two hours of my life.

“We will see the building for the first time together.” The old man grins as he pulls to the end of a driveway.

A tall cast-iron gate stops us from entering the premises. Two festive wreaths, full of leaves and large red and green baubles, hang on the fence.

The car idles in front of the gates; the driver rolls down his window as rain hits the interior of his vehicle. There is a black box with a small button attached to a black pole to the left. He presses it and waits for something.

“How may I help you?” An older woman's voice filters through the box. It comes out full of static, but not distorted enough for us to misunderstand her.

“I’m here to drop off one of your new doctors,” he states.

“What is the name of the doctor?” She questions for security purposes. They aren’t going to let a random man through the gate.

The driver glances over his shoulder for my name. “Dr. Madden.”

He repeats the name to the woman, and a buzzing sound shoots from the box and into the car. The gates before us slowly open, creaking creepily with every inch they move.

When the car has enough space to go through, the accelerator is pressed, and we are driving forward.

Large weeping willows line each side of the black, paved drive, their branches dangling down and lashing out from the wind that picks up. It is something you’d see out of a movie—incredibly picturesque and almost unreal.

The amazement only grows when he slightly turns, the large brick building coming into view. The bricks are dark, maybe because of the rain, but they appear black, which makes me think the rain has nothing to do with it.

Black bricks for Black Lake? Fitting.

The black pavement, filled with fog, loops in front of the building. In the middle of the pavement, a cast stone fountain with three tiers sits. It has three different-sized circular moldings, the top one smaller than the bottom. Perched on the very top of the fountain is an angel reaching towards the sky.

As we get closer to the structure, the angel looks anything but happy. There is a tiny frown on her dirt-gray face, as if what she is reaching out for is too far away.

My body jerks forward as we come to a stop, the man shifting his car into park before blowing out a breath. “Well, this is not what I was expecting.”

I turn my head to the right to take in the large building. On either side of the wide stairs sit two Christmas trees decorated with colorful ornaments and white lights.

The colors of the lights and decorations burst to life against the dark brick. They have been placed nicely at the bottom of the wide stairs that lead up to the door.

“Me neither,” I say, answering his earlier statement.

Before I can register what I’m doing, my hand meets the door handle, swinging it open. The rain has become a drizzle as I round the back of the car to grab my belongings from the trunk.

Letting the door fall shut, I readjust the strap of my duffle bag over my shoulder and squeeze the handle of my suitcase.

I hear the car's window behind me roll down when I step forward. “Good luck in there.”

Swallowing, I head up the stairs. The driver wastes no more time lingering in his car. The place must spook him because the screech of his tires is prominent through the quiet air.

The vast oak door is now in my vision; my leg shakes with anticipation as another black box pulls my attention.

The white button calls my name, begging me to press it, but when I lift my finger, it only hovers over the circle before I force myself to move. A ringing tone hits my ears before the same woman's voice enters the speaker.

“How can I help you?”

“Hi, my name is Dr. Madden.” Somehow, my voice remains calm despite the way I am freaking out internally.

“I’ll buzz you right in!” She is too happy for someone who works in an asylum.