Chapter 2 - THE HOUSE AT THE END OF THE COAST ROAD
When Laurel woke, she smelled antiseptic.
That was reassuring.
Then she noticed the ceiling.
Dark wooden beams crossed above a bed large enough for four people. Rain whispered against tall windows. A lamp burned beside a fireplace.
That was less reassuring.
She sat up too quickly.
“Easy.”
A woman in blue scrubs rose from an armchair.
“My name is Dr. Miriam Sloane. You're safe.”
Laurel looked around.
“Where am I?”
“A private residence outside Grey Haven.”
Her stomach tightened.
“Why?”
“You experienced severe hypoglycemia. Your blood glucose was dangerously low when I arrived. You received appropriate emergency treatment, and I've been monitoring you.”
Laurel glanced toward the bedside table.
A glucose meter.
Juice.
Crackers.
Her phone.
Her bag.
“Did someone call an ambulance?”
“Yes,” Miriam said. “Emergency services were contacted. You were assessed, and once you were stable and able to participate in the decision, arrangements were made for continued observation here.”
Laurel frowned.
“I don't remember agreeing.”
“Then we'll go over everything again now. You can return to the hospital whenever you wish.”
That helped.
A little.
“Who owns this place?”
The doctor hesitated.
“Weston.”
Laurel stared.
“Weston who?”
A voice answered from the doorway.
“Weston Vale.”
The man from the rain stood there wearing a white shirt with the sleeves rolled up.
In daylight, he looked even more intimidating.
Laurel searched her memory.
Weston Vale.
The name landed like a dropped instrument.
Everyone along the coast knew it.
Vale Maritime.
Vale Properties.
Vale Security.
And the whispers.
Smuggling.
Organized crime.
Men who disappeared after crossing the wrong people.
Laurel pulled the blanket higher.
“You're that Weston Vale.”
He nodded.
“I've been called worse.”
“You're a mafia boss.”
Miriam cleared her throat.
Weston looked almost amused.
“That's a complicated description.”
“It's a yes-or-no question.”
“Then I won't insult you with a dishonest answer.”
Laurel stared at him.
He looked toward Miriam.
“Is she medically stable?”
“For now. She needs food, rest, and follow-up with her diabetes care team.”
Weston nodded.
Then looked back at Laurel.
“You can leave whenever you're ready. A driver will take you wherever you choose.”
She studied him.
“Why did you bring me here?”
His expression changed.
For a moment, the amusement disappeared.
“Because I found you on the sidewalk.”
“That doesn't explain why you didn't leave me at the hospital.”
May you like
“No,” he said quietly. “It doesn't.”
And Laurel realized there was something about that rainy street corner he wasn't telling her.
