Chapter 6 6

The elevator opened directly into the apartment.

Dawn stepped out onto white marble floors. The space was cavernous. The walls were mostly glass, offering a panoramic view of Central Park, which looked like a dark, wet forest under the storm.

It was quiet. Not the stifling silence of Lydia's apartment, but a vast, expensive silence.

A woman was waiting for them. She was in her fifties, wearing a severe grey uniform. Her hair was pulled back in a tight bun.

"Welcome home, Mr. Holcomb," she said. Her accent was German. She looked at Dawn, her eyes scanning her quickly but respectfully. "Mrs. Holcomb."

Dawn blushed. "Hi."

Gerhard shrugged off his wet jacket and handed it to the woman. "Marta, this is Dawn. Take her to the master suite."

Dawn spun around. "Master suite? I thought..."

"We have to make it look convincing," Gerhard said. He was unbuttoning his cuffs. "The maids talk. If we sleep in separate wings, the press will know by morning."

He saw the look of terror on her face. "Relax. The bed is big enough for four people. I won't touch you. I usually sleep on the sofa in my study anyway."

It was a lie, but he said it so easily that Dawn believed him.

"Go," he said.

Dawn followed Marta down a long hallway. The walls were hung with art. Real art. She stopped in front of a painting. It was a Rothko. A real, vibrating block of red and black.

"He likes the modernists," Marta said, noticing Dawn's stare.

They entered the master bedroom. It was bigger than Dawn's entire apartment in Queens. The bed was indeed massive, covered in white linens that looked like clouds.

"The closet is through here," Marta said, opening a set of double doors.

Dawn walked in and gasped.

One side of the walk-in closet was filled. Rows of dresses, blouses, cashmere sweaters. Shelves of shoes.

"Mr. Holcomb had them sent over an hour ago," Marta said. "From Bergdorf's."

Dawn touched the sleeve of a silk blouse. It was soft as water. "An hour ago? But we only just..."

He had been that sure she would say yes. Or he was that prepared for anyone to say yes.

"I will run a bath," Marta said. "You look... tired."

Dawn went into the bathroom. It was all marble and chrome. She stripped off the red dress and the trench coat. She sank into the deep tub. The hot water loosened the knot in her chest.

She cried, just for a minute. Silent, hot tears that mixed with the bathwater. She was safe. She was rich. And she was completely alone.

She dried off and put on a pair of silk pajamas she found in the closet. They were a pale blue. She put on a matching robe, tying the belt tight.

She walked back out to the living area.

Gerhard was sitting on a white sofa. He had a laptop open on his knees. He was speaking German into a headset, his voice sharp and commanding.

When he saw her, he stopped mid-sentence. He pulled the headset off and closed the laptop with a snap.

"Dinner," he said.

He walked to the dining table. It was set for two. But instead of a fancy meal, there were two steaming bowls.

"Chicken noodle soup," Gerhard said. "Marta said you looked pale. It's... comfort food, yes?"

Dawn stared at the bowl. It smelled like rosemary and thyme. "Yes. Thank you."

She sat down. Gerhard sat opposite her. He watched her take the first spoonful.

"It's good," she said.

"Good." He picked up his spoon.

They ate in silence for a few minutes. The rain lashed against the windows.

"I need to go back tomorrow," Dawn said suddenly.

Gerhard stopped eating. "I told you, I'll send someone."

"No," Dawn said. She put her spoon down. Her hand was trembling, but her voice was firm. "There's a box. Under my bed. I need to get it myself. Lydia... she won't give it to a stranger. She'll throw it out just to spite me."

Gerhard looked at her. He saw the fear in her eyes, but also the steel.

"What's in the box?"

"My parents," she said simply.

Gerhard studied her face. He nodded slowly. "Fine. But you don't go alone. My driver takes you. And he stays with you."

"Okay," Dawn said.

"Eat," Gerhard commanded gently. "You're too thin."

Dawn ate. For the first time in years, she felt full.