Page 91 of On Edge

“His last email mentioned meeting an unexpected source connected to the estate. I know that you’re living at Grayfleet with Troy Severin. My hunch is that the source is you?”

“No. It’s not.” My throat feels like it’s about to close over.

Claire studies me, her brow furrowed. “Really? You didn’t speak to him at all?”

“I never spoke to him.” The lie comes out easier a second time.

She hesitates, then presses a card into my hand. “Well, if you do remember anything, please…call me.”

Then she’s gone.

I stare at the card, pulse hammering in my ears. The memory of the empty helicopter leaving the island the morning after the last visit flashes through my mind. What happened to Ragg? And what haveIdone by talking to him in the first place?

I tuck the card into my purse and return to the party.

Troy is across the room, speaking with a tall, blond-haired man in a black suit, who looks like a GQ model rather than a business associate. Troy’s eyes find mine immediately, then narrow.

I start to walk towards him, but then someone blocks my path.

“Sage, my dear.” He extends his hand, professional smile in place. “Dr. Geoffrey Fogg. You remember me, don’t you? I was your physician after your setback.”

The floor drops out from beneath me as I look at the tall man, in his thirties, in an expensive suit with perfectly styled, but already greying hair. He’s wearing silver-rimmed glasses over his placid brown eyes, the kind of frames that suggest soft-spoken intelligence.

Memories of stark green walls and the smell of antiseptic wash over me. All of a sudden, his cold hands are holding me down again, and the sharp bite of a needle is in my veins, digging in.

“This will help you sleep, Sage. Only sleep. Nothing to be afraid of.”

“Of course, I remember.”How could I not?

“It’s wonderful to see you looking so well.”

“Did you get the pills I sent you?”

I nod, ignoring the way my whole body trembles as he steps closer. “Yes, thank you.”

“And they have been helping with your headaches?”

I force a smile, shuffling back further. “They always do.”

“Good, good.”

“Fogg, what are you doing here? Is my father here?”

“Your father couldn’t make it, but he asked me to check on you personally.” He takes my hand before I can pull back, his grip professional, but clammy. The grip of someone who’s touched me before, examined me, held me down while he?—

My vision blurs just as his thumb presses against my pulse point, exactly where he used to check my heart rate.

“It’s been nearly three weeks since you moved to Grayfleet. Your father was naturally concerned about the livingarrangements with your fiancé. Whether his wishes have been... respected.”

My brain whirls to comprehend what he means.

“What do you mean?”

Fogg makes a soft smile. “As your physician, I’m uniquely positioned to assess these matters, of course.” His voice drops, not so clinical anymore, but so very invasive. “Sage. Is there somewhere we can go and talk in private?”

Private?

My muscles tense, and panic claws in my chest. I need to go. But Fogg tries to lead me into the hallway, and I stumble in my heels. He grabs me then, arms solid around me, and ushers me through the door into the narrow space of the corridor.