“Right next to you.”
I fumble for the plastic cup on the bedside table and take a big gulp. The man continues to stare at me in unnerving silence. I sit up slowly, hundreds of questions vying for attention in my head.
“What did you inject me with?” I ask.
“Ketamine.”
“What...what is that?”
“An animal tranquilizer.”
“Why do I feel so dizzy?”
“You’re experiencing some of the side effects of the drug—dizziness, impaired coordination. They’ll wear off in time, but there may be a few other effects.”
“Like what?”
“You tell me,” he says, his tone mocking. “Any nightmares or hallucinations?”
The words spill out before I can think to stop them. “Well, I’m looking at a monster, but I don’t believe I’m hallucinating.”
After a pause, he says softly, “That’s a dangerous mouth you’ve got on you.”
I swallow. “So I’ve been told.”
He sits on the edge of the bed. I take in the imposing span of his chest, the muscles stretching the sleeves of his T-shirt. I know already I’m no match for him physically.
Oh, please, please, don’t hurt me.
I will myself to look at him. Slits in the ski mask show an unsmiling mouth and gray eyes the color of a fading winter sky.
“You’re not too good at judging monsters, are you, Amy Hutchinson?”
I stiffen. “What are you saying?”
“That you have dinner with one every week and you haven’t recognized him for what he is.”
I frown. What on earth is he talking about? Who do I have...
My father. I see my father every week.
The blood drains from my face. That means he’s been watching me. For how long? It’s a thought I can’t bear to explore. And then it comes to me, the comment he whispered in my ear last night. Something about my father, about how he’s involved in this. But that doesn’t make sense. I wish I could think clearly, but my mind is still wrapped in a drugged fog.
“Are you talking about my father?” I ask at last.
His eyes meet mine. “Who else?”
“You’re obviously confusing him with someone else.”
“The only one confused here is you,” is the curt rejoinder.
“You know nothing about him!”
“And you don’t know enough!”
Swept along by anger and adrenaline, I respond instinctively. “He’s only been my father for thirty-three years. Of course a complete stranger would know more about him than me.”
His eyes glint. “I see sarcasm is one of the traits you inherited from him. I wonder what other genetic charms he passed on to you.”
