Chapter 15
The fluorescent lights of the hospital room hummed with a sterile intensity, casting long, sharp shadows across the floor. Director Sterling’s weapon remained locked dead center on Eleanor Vance, his finger resting lightly on the trigger.
“Put it down, Eleanor,” Sterling warned, his voice dangerously low. “You’ve run out of moves.”
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Eleanor paused, her hand lingering inside her designer handbag. For a fleeting second, the heavy, suffocating silence of the room felt heavier than the vault doors in the basement of Elm Terrace. Then, with a slow, deliberate movement, Eleanor withdrew her hand, holding not a weapon, but a small, gold-encrusted master
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