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“Take my hand,” the voice demanded, “and you will be invisible.”
Sadie didn’t understand, but she took the old woman’s hand. She fell into the darkness. Deeper and deeper. There was nothing but darkness. Then the voices came.Hisvoice. Demanding that she be kept alive. Andhers... the woman she’d heard in the conference call. The one who seemed to be making the decisions. Then Sadie had awakened under the overpass on Eighteenth.
How had she gotten there?
Sadie didn’t know the female voice she’d heard.
But she knewhisvoice.
It was not Carlos or Eddie.
It was her father. She’d heard him demanding that she be allowed to live.
Sadie’s eyes flew open. She blinked. Stared out the windshield of her borrowed car—the piss-yellow one.
The taste in her mouth was of vomit and something else. A drug she had tasted before.
Pain split her skull.
She touched the back of her head. Where the hell was she?
Sadie looked around. A frown pulled at her face. Made her head hurt worse. She was home. The borrowed car parked in the alley next to her place. How the hell had she gotten here?
She stared at the steering wheel, the keys ... her hands.
Oh yeah, she’d obviously been drugged and driven here. But by who?
Her last memory was of being at the Cortez house. She had seen the girl in the mask.
Was it the girl? Alice/Isabella?
Couldn’t have been the old woman. Hell, she was probably dead by now. She’d been ancient nearly five years ago when she was serving as the healer at the Osorio compound. Eddie had said she’d been with the family since before he was born.
Eddie was dead.
Sadie had killed him.
She blinked, held perfectly still. The rest of the dream rushed in on her.
She’d heard her father’s voice.
That wasn’t possible. She must have confused the timing. She had awakened in the hospital, and he had been there. But he hadn’t been with her before that. Not under the overpass and certainly not in Mexico.
Had he?
Cross Residence
Eagle Wood Court
Birmingham, 8:30 a.m.
Sadie beat her fist against the door. She winced at the pain the sound made in her skull.
The door opened, and her father stood there, dressed as he always was when he was off duty—in khakis and a button-down shirt. She didn’t have to look to know he would be wearing his favorite leather loafers.
This was the dad side of him. Not the hard-ass agent.
Good. This was the Mason Cross she wanted.
