Each new bit of information about Father Gabriel made me more disgusted.
With each step I clung to the promise of the FBI. Surely enough time had passed. All that needed to happen was for Jacob to get a phone or for me to get free. Though I wondered what was going on at the Northern Light, I tried not to worry about Jacob. I reminded myself that he was an agent and had been doing this for a long time. I had to believe he’d survive—that we both would.
Passing through the door at the top of the stairs gave me the sensation of coming out of a black-and-white photo. Once again the world had color. The marble floor below my soft shoes glistened with golden flecks, while the walls glowed with a rich beige hue and shiny white ornate trim. Even the door was different, gray on the side of the basement, but pristine and white on the side in the house. I stepped to the side and waited, eyes down, for Dylan to emerge from behind me.
Except for the echo of Dylan’s footsteps, the mansion was silent as we made our way down the long hallway. Every few feet we passed white pillars supporting arches, and between the arches crystal light fixtures sparkled, sending prisms of color reflecting rainbows that danced upon the floor. When he stopped, I recognized the French doors with the beveled glass and bit my lip, praying that Father Gabriel wasn’t in here.
Opening one of the doors, Dylan gestured for me to enter.
Through the window the sky had darkened since the last time I’d been in the office. I wasn’t sure of the time, and while I was certain I’d missed a meal, Brother Mark’s whipping and Mariam’s speech had taken away my appetite. The pool in the distance caught my eye. In the middle of the darkness, its illuminated beauty reminded me of a tropical resort. Underwater lights changed its color, while around it the landscaping sparkled with tiny white lights. The mini-paradise appeared to be surrounded by nothingness. The tennis courts, outbuildings, and landing strip that I knew were there were all cloaked in darkness.
When my eyes settled on Father Gabriel’s desk, my heart fluttered. In an ordinary plastic container—the type to store leftover food—was Fred, swimming in circles, unsure of his new bowl. Lowering my chin, I sucked my lip between my teeth and worked to contain my smile. A simple blue betta fish should mean nothing to Sara.
Oh my God! This is hard!
I hated Dylan and, at the same time, remembered thinking I could love him. Even with all that had happened, he’d kept Fred. Refusing to look up, I stayed rooted to the soft red carpet as Dylan walked to the front edge of the desk. Crossing his arms, he casually leaned back and studied me. It was his detective look, the one where he assessed, analyzed, and silently stared. Finally his broad shoulders sagged as he sighed and ran his hands through his dark-blond hair.
“I brought you in here,” he began, “because it’s one of the few places in the house that isn’t under constant surveillance. There’re no cameras or microphones . . .”
My pulse raced.
“. . . Stel—Sara, will you please talk to me?”
Not lifting my eyes, I hid behind The Light’s expectations of a female. I couldn’t look directly into his piercing blue eyes. “Yes, Brother, Father Gabriel gave me permission to speak to you.”
“My name is Dylan, not Brother.”
I shook my head. “All men deserve a title.”
“No, they don’t. Fuck. Most don’t deserve anything.” He uncrossed his arms and they fell to his sides. “I know that I sure as hell don’t.”
I closed my eyes, and a tear escaped my lids. “I’m sorry. I don’t understand.”
“Will you fucking look at me?”
He reached for my chin, but I backed away. Too many thoughts were swirling about.
“Jesus, I’m not going to hurt you.”
Maybe not physically, but he had hurt me, and now hearing the emotion in his voice was hurting me more. I wrapped my arms around myself, as my cold hands gripped my own elbows and hugged. The dirty white dress pulled against my new reminders as I gave in to the emotion. Tears burned my cheeks as my shoulders shuddered, and I gasped for air.
“I’m sorry,” I mumbled, thinking that I would never have reacted this way before, but now I was. My off-the-chart emotions were real. “Why do you want to be away from cameras?” I hiccupped a cry. “I shouldn’t ask. Questioning is my greatest weakness.”
Dylan reached for my arms, and I froze, paralyzed by the thought of anyone but Jacob touching me—first Brother Mark and now Dylan. It was wrong.
If he sensed my discomfort, he didn’t say anything. Instead he sighed and led me to the sofa, the soft leather one where Jacob had laid me earlier.
Dylan’s tone overflowed with compassion. “Why don’t you just sit for a minute? I wasn’t trying to upset you. I’m not going to do anything away from cameras. I wanted to talk to you.”