“Dominique, no—” Steinberg grabs her arm before she can execute the crescent kick. “Let the police handle it.”

Mindy keys open the elevator and the three duck inside.

Raymond struggles to his feet. He turns to face Dominique, his eyes crazed, his mouth gasping to form sounds. As the elevator doors begin to close, he mouths the word, “Gabriel,” and slides a finger across the base of his throat.

Chapter 11

Chapter 11

NOVEMBER 18, 2012
MIAMI, FLORIDA

The group-therapy rooms at the South Florida Evaluation and Treatment Center are located on the third floor, situated opposite the gymnasium, between the movie hall and computer room.

Dominique is seated in the back of room 3-B, half-listening to Dr. Blackwell’s afternoon group-therapy session when she notices an orderly wheel a semiconscious Michael Gabriel into the movie hall. She waits until the orderly leaves, then slips out of the classroom.

The movie area is dark, the only light coming from the large-screen television. Eight residents, spread out over the three dozen folding chairs, are watching the latest Star Trek movie.

The wheelchair is in the last row. Dominique takes a seat, sliding her chair close to Mick. He is leaning to one side, slumped forward. A single belt strapped across his chest is all that prevents him from falling on his face. The dark eyes, once intense beacons, are now lifeless black pools reflecting the television screen. Mick’s long brown hair is pulled back. Dominique catches a whiff of scalp oil, then a vulgar scent coming from his rancid clothes. A heavy five o’clock shadow is thickening to a beard, covering all but the jagged scar along his jawline.

Damn you, Foletta. She removes a Kleenex from her coat and dabs at the spittle drooling from his lower lip. “Mick, I don’t know if you can understand me, but I miss you, I really do. I hate what Foletta’s done to you. You were absolutely right about him, and I feel terrible for not believing you.” She places her hand over his. “I wish you could understand me.”

To her surprise, Mick’s left hand turns over, his fingers entwining in hers.

“Oh my God,” she whispers.

Mick winks.

She can barely contain her excitement. “Mick, there’s so much I have to tell you—”

“Shhh.” The eyes remain vacant.

She leans forward casually, feigning interest in the video. “Raymond, the guard who attacked you, tried to rape me. He’s been suspended, but I hear he may be back to work as early as next week. Be careful, he’s threatened to hurt you to get back at me.” She returns his squeeze. “You remember me telling you about SOSUS? I convinced Iz to use the system to check out the Gulf coordinates you gave me. Mick, you were right. It turns out something is definitely down there, buried about a mile beneath the seafloor. Iz promises he’ll investigate.”