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Home. Haven didn’t know what that meant.
“Before we get there, I want to make something clear,” Dr. DeMarco said. “You’re going to have some normalcy living with us, but don’t mistake my kindness for weakness. I expect your loyalty, and if you betray my trust in any way, there will be consequences. As long as you remember that, we won’t have any problems.” He paused. “I want you to be comfortable with us, though, so you can speak freely as long as you’re respectful.”
“I’d never disrespect you, sir.”
“Never say never. Sometimes we don’t realize when we’re being disrespectful.” Haven wondered what he meant by that, but he didn’t explain. “Do you have any questions?”
“You said ‘us.’ Do you have a family?”
“I do. I have two sons, ages seventeen and eighteen.”
“Oh.” She was on the verge of panicking. She hadn’t been around many people her age and had never had any contact with teenage boys. Studying him, she noticed the plain gold band gleaming under the moonlight on his left hand. Married. “And your wife, sir? Their mama?”
The moment the question came from her lips, Dr. DeMarco’s demeanor shifted. His posture stiffened and his jaw clenched as he stared straight ahead, his foot pressing harder on the gas pedal. He gripped the steering wheel so tightly his knuckles turned as white as bone, conversation ceasing.
So much for speaking freely.
The car turned off the pavement and drove down a bumpy path that cut through the dense trees. They came to a clearing, and Haven gaped at the house that came into sight. The old plantation home stood three stories high, with columns spanning the height of the structure. The white paint was faded, tinting the exterior a dull gray. A large porch wrapped around the first floor, with smaller ones running the lengths of the second and third.
Dr. DeMarco parked between a smaller black car and a silver one, and Haven stepped out cautiously, taking in her surroundings. All she could see in the darkness beyond were trees, while a porch light made the gravel faintly visible beneath her feet. Dr. DeMarco grabbed his luggage before heading toward the front door, and she limped behind with empty hands, having nothing of her own to carry. She’d never had much, all of her clothes ragged hand-me-downs that she’d left behind without a choice.
After stepping onto the porch, Dr. DeMarco pressed his finger to a small panel on a rectangular keypad. It beeped before he opened the door. Haven stepped into the house, pausing as he closed the door and punched something into an identical keypad on the inside.
A green light flashed as a lock clicked into place, the door automatically securing itself. “It’s wired into a computer network,” Dr. DeMarco explained. “The house is impenetrable, the glass bulletproof and windows nailed shut. You need a code or fingerprint authorization to get in or out.”
“What happens if there’s a power failure, sir?”
“It’s on a backup generator.”
“And if the generator doesn’t work?”
“Then I suppose you’ll stay locked inside until power’s restored.”
“Will I have a code?”
“Maybe someday, when I feel I can trust you with one,” he said. “After what you pulled in Blackburn, I’m sure you can understand my position. I’m a lot closer to civilization than they were.”
She couldn’t understand his position, refused to try. “What happens if there’s an emergency?”
“There are ways around the system, but I don’t foresee any situations that require you to know those tricks.”
“But what if there’s a fire and I need to get out?”
Dr. DeMarco gazed at her. “You’re a crafty one, aren’t you?” Before she could respond, he turned away. “I’ll show you around.”
Straight in front of them was the family room, with several couches and a television on one of the walls. A fireplace was tucked in the back beside a piano, the wooden floor shining from the glow of the moon streaming through the large windows. To the left was a kitchen filled with stainless-steel appliances, an island in the center with pots and pans hanging above it. The dining room behind that had the longest table Haven had ever seen, big enough to accommodate fourteen. She wondered how often all those seats were taken, unable to imagine cooking for that many people. To the right were a bathroom and a laundry room, as well as an office tucked underneath the staircase.
The second floor belonged to Dr. DeMarco—a bedroom and a bathroom, along with another office and a spare room. Some of the doors had keypads beside them, a sign Haven wouldn’t be going into those rooms.
o;This started before yesterday, and you know it! You should’ve been watching her!”
“I know. I’m sorry.”
“You should be.” Haven started to slip away, but before sleep took her, the man spoke once more. “I’ll give you what you want for her, but I’m not happy about this. At all.”
* * *
Haven awoke later, still on the concrete floor. Every inch of her ached, and she grimaced as she struggled to sit up. A throat cleared nearby, the stranger once again standing in the basement with her. “How do you feel?”
