Chapter 3 - THE NIGHT VISITOR
Massimo did not move.
The intruder crossed the room without turning on a light.
A thin beam from a phone flashlight swept across the dresser, then disappeared beneath the desk where Massimo kept his medication locked away.
He listened to the soft click of metal.
Whoever it was had a key.
Massimo reached beneath his pillow and closed his hand around a compact pistol.
“Looking for something?”
The figure jerked upright.
Camille.
She stood in the dark wearing a silk robe, one hand frozen near the drawer.
Massimo lowered the gun but did not put it away.
“What are you doing?”
She let out a breath. “Jesus, Massimo. You scared me.”
“That makes two of us.”
“I came for your nighttime tablets. You forgot them.”
“I didn’t forget.”
“You always take them.”
“Not tonight.”
Camille’s eyes flicked toward the drawer. “Hale said skipping doses could cause spasms.”
“Hale says a lot.”
She walked to the bed. “You felt one twitch and now you think every doctor on Earth is wrong?”
“I think I want one night without swallowing something I can’t pronounce.”
Camille’s expression softened. She sat beside him. “I know you hate this. I know you hate needing people.”
“You especially?”
“That’s not fair.”
“No. Fair would’ve been the bullet killing me.”
She touched his face. “Don’t say that.”
Then he remembered the look between her and Dean.
“Go back to bed,” he said.
Camille stood slowly. “Take your medication.”
“I’ll decide what goes in my body.”
Something cold passed through her eyes.
“Of course.”
She left.
At breakfast, Nina came bouncing into the morning room holding her rabbit by one ear.
“Uncle Massimo, wiggle.”
Dean nearly choked on his coffee.
Massimo ignored him and looked at Nina. “Bossy little thing, aren’t you?”
“Wiggle.”
Massimo stared at his foot.
He concentrated until sweat formed along his hairline.
Nothing.
Nina crouched and tapped his big toe.
“Wake up.”
A pulse of heat shot through Massimo’s calf.
He grabbed the table.
Carla rushed toward him. “Are you okay?”
“I felt that.”
Dean’s chair scraped back. “Felt what?”
“My leg.”
This time no one laughed.
At 9:40 a.m., Marco entered with a sealed envelope from the private lab.
Massimo opened it.
He read the first page once.
Then again.
The white pill was not a muscle relaxant.
It was a potent nerve suppressant that could reduce sensation and slow motor response.
May you like
And the lab technician had written one line in red ink at the bottom:
CONSISTENT WITH COMPOUNDS FOUND IN PATIENT’S CURRENT BLOOD SAMPLE.
