here than they are at home. Don’t take it personally.”
They walked the rest of the way in silence, for which DJ was grateful. He was still trying to wrap his mind around Pastor being a “sweetheart.” He was loved by his congregation, but that was more of an awed worship. Not affection.
DJ felt no affection for the old bastard. Especially after the stunt he’d pulled that morning with the access code. He wondered if Coleen loved Pastor. She might. She’d been sufficiently brainwashed over thirty years, despite knowing the deep, dark truth.
He was momentarily stunned when the nurse showed him into Pastor’s room, which wasn’t a room at all. It was a suite with several rooms—a master bedroom with an en suite bath, a second bedroom also with an en suite, a third bathroom, a living room, a kitchen, and a dining room.
Holy fucking shit. “How much does this run us a day?”
“It’s all part of the prepaid package,” the nurse said, not answering his question. “Your father is in the master bedroom, through there. If he’s asleep, let him sleep. Your mother is sleeping in the other bedroom.”
She is not my mother. But DJ smiled tightly. “That’s good. She must have been tired.”
“She was, poor thing. The bedrooms are soundproofed, so if you want to watch TV out here, you won’t disturb them. His private nurse will stay in there with him. Her name is Nurse Gaynor and she’s one of our best. She’s been with us for almost ten years. I’m Nurse Innes, the charge nurse, by the way. Contact me with any concerns. Speed dial one on the house phone goes right to my cell.” She held up a smartphone. “Cell coverage is very good here and there is Wi-Fi. Password is changed daily. Your father’s nurse will have it for you. Nurse Gaynor just came on shift, so she’s probably checking his vitals. I’ll leave you to your visit. Call me when you’re ready to leave and I’ll escort you out.”
As soon as she was gone, he took off the wig and the mask, wondering if last night’s surgeon did plastic surgery. He might need it when this was over and he skipped the country with his fifty million.
He turned off all the lights in the living room and opened Coleen’s bedroom door to ensure that she was really asleep and not going to spy on him. She was under the covers, visible by the light from the bathroom that she’d left burning. Her chest rose and fell rhythmically. If she was awake, she was good at faking it.
She wore a simple nightgown, the sleeping uniform of all Eden women. The neckline wasn’t high like a turtleneck, but it exposed nothing below the hollow of the throat. Where her locket lay, glinting in the dim light. Even Coleen had to wear a locket. No discussions. No exceptions.
Satisfied that she slept, he closed her door and approached the master bedroom, remaining quiet. He really didn’t care if he woke Pastor, because the old man was a douchey motherfucker. He was more concerned with hearing what Pastor was saying in his nurse’s presence, and whether he was aware.
Nurse Innes might be convinced that their staff was trustworthy, but DJ was not. The only person he could trust was himself. Everyone else had an agenda that conflicted with his—getting the money and living in luxury on a tropical island. Even Coleen had an agenda, but DJ hadn’t figured that out yet. Maybe it was just to remain in power at Pastor’s side. If he died, she’d become the bottom-rung wife of another man in Eden and it would suck to be her.
He opened Pastor’s door a mere crack, not wanting to alert the old man.
What the hell? He froze, staring as the nurse in Pastor’s room rocked back on her heels, having been standing on her toes to reach a lampshade.
She then pulled something from her pocket and slipped it under the nightstand lamp. The light was dim, and DJ couldn’t see exactly what she’d deposited there, but he had a fair idea.
She was bugging the room. What the actual fuck?
His mind raced, analyzing all the possible responses. He decided on pretending he hadn’t seen it. He wanted to find out if this was a plot by the facility’s owners to gather incriminating information that they could use for future blackmail.
Or . . . it could be that someone else was pulling the nurse’s strings. Kowalski was the top