In Enemy Hands
Chapter One
Monday August 1
6:02 p.m.
Gary Vandergriff paused with his hand on the doorknob, trying to compose his
expression into a mask of pleasant neutrality. It would not do for Father to read the
wrong thing in his expression. Taking a deep breath, he opened the door to the darkened
bedchamber.
The room reeked of pine cleanser; it made his eyes water when he crossed the
threshold and approached his father's bed. Perhaps the maid had made an overzealous
attempt to mask the second, more subtle scent in the room.
Death.
It lingered in the periphery like a spectator in a boxing arena, awaiting the results
of the bout between the crusty old diplomat and the pancreatic cancer that had slowly
decimated his body for the past six months.
The old man had put up a good fight, but now the cancer had him on the ropes.
The doctors said he wouldn't live out the week.
Gary approached the bed. "Father?"
The old man lay still against the pillows, and for an instant, Gary thought he was
already gone. Then his rheumy blue eyes fluttered open. He shot G ... read full excerpt from In Enemy Hands ebook
