Glancing up over his head, he could see that his wrist was in a pair of handcuffs that was also attached to a brass headboard. As Noah’s mind continued to clear, he could see he was still wearing the clothes he’d put on that morning, which brought back where he’d been. My God, he thought, I’m in Texas! Then, like an avalanche of bad memories, he recalled the details of the terrorizing episode of his being boxed in by the black SUV, the men flashing FBI badges at his windows, his car window being busted in, and his vain attempt to flee. It was like reliving a bad dream.
With some effort, Noah tried to shift his position, which caused the handcuffs to rattle against the brass headboard. At the sound, the man in the chair lowered his paper. Noah recognized him. He was the African American, and as Noah watched, he tossed his paper aside and got to his feet. But he didn’t say anything. He merely walked out of the room.
“Hey,” Noah called out. “Come back here! Where am I? Are you really FBI?” It was adding insult to injury that the man ignored him. If the man was FBI, what in God’s name was Noah doing fettered in an upscale bedroom?
Left on his own, Noah tried to sit up by throwing his legs over the right side of the bed. As soon as he did so, he felt a wave of dizziness overwhelm him, forcing him to lie down and raise his feet back onto the bed. He closed his eyes and hoped for the dizziness to subside.
“You have decided to wake up and join us,” a familiar female voice said a few minutes later in a solicitous tone. “I’m so pleased. I was a little worried you’d been severely overdosed.”
With a sense of shock and fearing he was hallucinating, Noah’s eyes popped open. Standing at the bedside, hands on hips, was Dr. Ava London. Noah stared at her, half expecting her to disappear like an apparition, but she didn’t. Behind her appeared the African American, whose presence quickly assured him he wasn’t hallucinating.
“What are you doing here?” Noah managed.
Ava laughed her unique lucent laugh. “Where do you think ‘here’ is?”
“Someplace in Lubbock, Texas,” Noah said.
Ava laughed again. It was natural and spontaneous. “Sorry to disappoint you,” she said. “We’re not in Lubbock. We are in Boston—more specifically, in my house. You’ve been sleeping off your tranquilizer doses in one of my guest bedrooms.”
Noah could see that the African American was standing off to the side.
“Who is that man?” Noah demanded.
“This Keyon Dexter,” Ava said, gesturing over her shoulder.
“Does he work for you?” Noah said.
Ava laughed yet again. “No, he doesn’t work for me.”
“Is he with the FBI?” Noah asked.
“I don’t think so,” Ava said. She turned to Keyon. “You aren’t with the FBI, are you?”
“No, ma’am,” Keyon said politely.
“What the hell is going on?” Noah demanded.
“I’ll tell you what is going on,” Ava said in a sternly fake voice as evidenced by a simultaneous smile. She waved a finger at Noah as if he were a naughty child. “You have been causing all sorts of trouble and forcing me and a few other people to lose sleep. Thankfully, all that’s in the past.” Ava’s smile broadened. “We need to talk to clear up a few things.”
Noah suppressed a strong urge to indulge in serious sarcasm, but he held his tongue as everything that had happened to him over the previous week began to come back to him in a progressive rush, particularly the untimely murder of Roberta Hinkle. He rattled his restraint against the brass headboard. “Why am I handcuffed?”
“I don’t know,” Ava admitted. She turned to Keyon. “Why is he in handcuffs?”
“He wasn’t cooperative in Lubbock,” Keyon said evasively.
“Well, take them off!” Ava said.
“Are you sure, ma’am?” Keyon questioned. “George and I think he’s a flight risk, and we found him to be on the feisty side.”
“Take them off!” Ava repeated.
Keyon did as he was told, then stepped back to his former place, available if needed.
Noah sat up on the bed and rubbed his sore wrist. He was dizzy for a moment, but it cleared quickly. He felt reassured that the African American was taking orders from Ava.
“How do you feel?” Ava asked sympathetically. “I understand they gave you a bit more midazolam than I had suggested and then a few hours later repeated it.”
“You suggested?” Noah questioned angrily. “So you are behind all this!”
“Listen, my friend!” Ava said, becoming serious. “If it weren’t for my efforts, I’m not sure what shape you would be in, and you certainly wouldn’t be sitting here in my guest room. Let’s not be judgmental until you’ve heard the whole story. As I said, we need to talk.”
“Does he need to be in here?” Noah asked, nodding toward Keyon. The mere presence of the man had him on edge, whether he followed orders from Ava or not.
Ava shrugged. “Not as far as I am concerned.” She turned to Keyon. “Perhaps you could wait out in the hall.”
“Yes, ma’am,” Keyon said. A moment later he was gone.
“Happy?” Ava questioned.
“Hold the sarcasm!” Noah said. “How the hell did I get here?”
“After Keyon and George met you in Lubbock, they invited you on a private jet that had been chartered for them.”
“Invited!” Noah spat. “Ha. They dragged me out of a rental car whose window they busted. What the hell is going to happen to the rental? Jesus!”
“You’re incredible,” Ava said. “You’re really worried about a rental car?”
“I was the one who rented it,” Noah said. “The rental company has my driver’s license information.”
“Good God!” Ava said. “You’re so damn compulsive.” Without warning, she called out for Keyon, who was back into the room in a flash. From his expression, it was apparent he’d feared the worst.
“Keyon,” Ava said with exasperation, “what was done about Dr. Rothauser’s rental?”
“Hank Anderson took care of it,” Keyon said. “He arranged for an agent to go and get it and turn it in. The agent also took care of the insurance deductible.”
“Thank you, Keyon,” Ava said. “That will be all.”
“Right, ma’am,” Keyon said as he touched his forehead with his right hand in a form of salute.
“Satisfied?” Ava asked after turning back to Noah.
“Who is Hank Anderson?” Noah said.
“He is Keyon and George’s immediate boss,” Ava said.
“This is going in circles,” Noah complained. “Who exactly are Keyon Dexter and George whatever his name is?”
“George Marlowe,” Ava said. “You’ve seen him here. I call George my personal trainer. In actuality, he is a security person, but he’s into exercise as much as I am, so it seemed convenient to do it together.”
Noah nodded. In his mind’s eye, he suddenly associated the man he’d known as Ava’s personal trainer with the Caucasian who’d been following him and then as one of the men who had attacked him in Lubbock. On a few occasions when he’d caught a decent glimpse of the man’s face, he’d had the sense he recognized the man on some level.