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A soft sound of disbelief slipped from Fern’s mouth. Cat hadn’t listened to a word she said. She never had. Fern’s hard work, her loyalty meant nothing to Cat. Ten years she had worked herself to the bone for this woman and for what? No more. Fern was done.
Fern gave the heavy wine cellar door a shove and watched with satisfaction as she saw Cat’s face shift from irritation to disbelief. “Hey,” Cat cried, dropping the bottle of wine she held, and lunged for the door.
It was too late. The door slammed with a metallic clang, trapping Cat inside. Fern pressed her ear against the cold steel. All was quiet except the sound of her own heavy breathing. The wine cellar was secure. It had been built solidly with thick stone walls and the armored door to protect Cat’s precious wine. Thick enough to absorb even the loudest cries.
Fern slowly backed away from the door, not believing what she had just done. In a panic, Fern thought of Cat’s phone. Her eyes landed on the bar and saw Cat’s cardigan smeared with the blood. She snatched up the sweater and with relief felt its heaviness. She slid her hand into the pocket and there it was: the phone, Cat’s only lifeline to the outside world. Except, Fern remembered, the security cameras.
The camera into the wine cellar was different from the ones set up for One Lucky Winner. Because Cat didn’t want millions of strangers knowing about her expensive wines, only Fern and Cat had access to see inside. Unless someone could hack the system, no one else would know that Cat was locked up.
Using Cat’s phone, Fern scrolled to the video security app and toggled to the cellar’s camera. There was Cat, pounding on the door. “God dammit, Fern,” Cat cried. “Let me out of here now!”
Fern hesitated. If she unlocked the door and let Cat out now maybe this would all blow over. But no, Fern wasn’t done yet. She still had so much to prove to Cat. Fern turned off the camera, ending Cat’s stream of expletives, then scurried up the stone steps. The old wine cellar was solid, made of stone, soundproof. There was no way the contestants would be able to hear Cat through the stone walls or the iron door. The game could go on. She wouldn’t leave Cat in there for long, she told herself. Just long enough to prove that she could handle the show, handle the contestants, handle Ned Bennett. Cat would forgive Fern for this transgression, she had to. Either that or Cat would kill her.
EIGHT
THE SENATOR
The Vault
“So. I’m Richard Crowley. Husband, father, veteran, former senator from Texas. And why am I here on One Lucky Winner? The short answer is ten million dollars. I mean, who doesn’t want ten million dollars? That’s big bucks for anyone. My sixties may be just about in my rearview mirror, but I’m strong, smart, and like to win.
“I’ve spent the last fifty years of my life in public service. Serving my community, my church, my constituents, my country, and, most importantly, my family. My family is everything to me. Without them, I’d just be a poor kid from central Texas. I married my wife, Genevieve, when we were both just eighteen. We’d been together since we were twelve, thirteen years old. The second I saw her, I was done for. I knew I was going to spend the rest of my life with that girl. We’ll be married fifty years next month, so I’d say we’re well on our way.
“We have four amazing boys who now all have families of their own. And let me tell you, there’s nothing better than being a grandpa. I hope I’ve instilled in my sons the importance of family because I’ve done everything possible to be a good husband and father.
“What am I going to do with the money? First of all, I’m going to buy Genevieve the biggest damn diamond ring I can find. She never got a proper one the first time around. Of course Gen said it didn’t matter, but it’s always bothered me. So this time, I’m doing it right. A big shiny diamond in one of those fancy blue boxes.
“As for the rest of the money, I don’t need it. I have everything I could ever need back home so I’m donating what’s left over to charities that support our veterans. As some of the audience knows, I come from a long line of soldiers who have served their country. My grandfather, my father, my brothers, and I all served in the military. We all came home, but my brother Robert returned with significant injuries, both psychological and physical. He never fully recovered. If I win the ten million, every bit of it will go to organizations that provide health care, education, employment, and even homes to our veterans. It’s the least I can do.
“First, I have to outlast the competition. My biggest threat? Hard to say so early in the game. We haven’t even had a challenge yet, but if I must choose, I’d say the lawyer, Samuel. I think he’s going to be the one to watch. He’s in pretty good shape and obviously smart. But what he doesn’t have is my experience, my ability to connect with people, to listen, to lead. Those skills will serve me well.
“The weakest link? In my opinion, it’s the psychiatrist. But I’ve underestimated the wrong person before. We’ll just have to see how things play out. It’s an honor to be here and I’m going to give it my all.”
AuntieEllen31—Yes, to taking care of our vets! You’ve got my vote
FriesPiesandBlueskies—Ewww! He’s the worst.
JJstansMartha—Agreed! And any politician who says they can’t afford their wife a diamond ring is LYING! And probably lying about a whole lot more.
FlyingMonkey—Yes, because looking after the woman and men who protect our country is such a bad idea
PatriotGames95—Senator Crowley is a true American. Don’t worry, we’ve got your back.
NINE
THE CONFIDANTE
The cherubs on the fresco above Camille’s bed were staring down at her. It was unsettling. She turned off her bedside lamp, flipped over on the bed, and buried her head beneath her pillow to try to block out the senator’s snoring.
Surely the estate had enough bedrooms for each of them, so why were they sharing? It had to be for the drama. Five strangers vying for ten million dollars in one overly heated space would be sure to cause tempers to flare.
She shifted on the bed again and fought the urge to pull off her camisole and pajama shorts. It had to be eighty degrees in the room. Did this place not have air-conditioning? Her head was spinning with everything she had come to Napa to try to forget about for a while. Her shrinking bank account and her patients, current and past, kept creeping into her thoughts, making it impossible to relax.
Steady your breathing, Camille told herself, just like she told her clients when they were in the middle of a panic attack. In and out, in and out. Her body was slick with sweat. Was hot air coming out of the goddamn vents? She had to bring her A game tomorrow. She wanted everyone to see the calm, professional doctor that she had worked so hard to become. And she wanted that ten million dollars. In and out, in and out. Her body relaxed, her breathing slowed, and soon she was at the precipice between wakefulness and blessed sleep.
Suddenly a high-pitched wailing hit her ears, and she was violently yanked back to the present. Scrambling from the bed, Camille tripped, her legs tangled in the sheets. She hit the floor with a thud. An alarm. Was there a fire? The room was pitch-black and she was unfamiliar with her surroundings. She didn’t know which way to turn.
Terror clawed at her throat. Fern had led them up several staircases and through circuitous corridors to get them to their bedroom, and Camille was sure she wouldn’t know how to find her way out. She couldn’t think with the shrieking of the alarm pounding painfully in her ears. She felt around for the bedside lamp and when her fingers found it, nothing happened. The power was out.
