CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
July 8, 2010
Morning
Cleo had no idea how deeply she’d been drugged, only that when her head finally felt heavier than a bobbing helium balloon, she was lying on a bed in a room with a handle-free door. Someone had dressed her in black slacks and a black t-shirt. It reminded her of prison inmates’ single-color dress code. As she slid from the bed, the door swung open and in walked trouble.
Natalie wore a knee-length, tight black dress with her hair knotted on her neck. She had a white silk flower cut like a gardenia pinned to the knot. Her steps smashed the floor the way a jackhammer struck a doomed square of sidewalk.
“Good morning, sunshine.” Natalie’s smile was as cold as her eyes.
Cleo touched her own shirt and felt a vacancy on her chest. Nothing hung there, n
