“I can tell you where it is,” Phillip finally said, “But it won’t do you any good.”
Amber folded her hands in front of her. “Yes, well… this used to be a hospital, you see,” Amber said, staring at the floor indicator above the door. He was in his mid-to-late thirties with a receding hairline and the beginnings of a paunch from enjoying beer a little too much. As she stood there, she took in the sight of cucumber water, lounge chairs, a large-screen television, a comfortable-looking full-sized bed, and a bar filled with snacks and drinks. He was paper-white and looked like he was about to show her what he’d eaten for lunch as he stared at the soon-to-be remains of his charge. Amber found such prolonged ocular intimacy… off-putting. Despite the blood on the clothes and papers, she packed them, preferring not to leave them behind. “For now, but Gerrard’s grandson has inherited his estate and has a different set of principles that guide his actions. You’ll find that this deal is much less clandestine than Mr. Castor. “It’s all been erased.” He looked back down at
