Chapter 2
Mark opened his mouth to speak, but no sound came out except for a pathetic, strangled gasp of air.
Eleanor stepped forward in her burgundy cardigan, her haughty expression finally faltering under the heavy atmosphere of the room.
"Now see here, Thomas, you cannot just threaten a civilian in a private residence," Eleanor demanded, raising her voice in false authority.
"We live in a civilized American suburb, not one of your barbaric overseas combat zones!"
Thomas turned his head slowly, fixing his cold, unblinking eyes on Eleanor with absolute contempt.
"Civilized suburbs do not harbor organ traffickers, Eleanor," Thomas stated, taking two deliberate steps toward her.
"And you knew damn well what was happening under this roof while I was stationed at the Pentagon."
Eleanor retreated backward, her manicured fingers gripping the edge of the hallway table for support.
"I didn't know anything about illegal sales!" Eleanor lied frantically, her voice pitching upward in shrill defense.
"Mark said it was an experimental clinical trial approved by the state medical board!"
Clara pulled the heavy blue blanket higher up her chest, shivering as a fresh wave of pain wracked her frail body.
"She knew, Dad," Clara whispered hoarsely, pointing a trembling finger at her aunt.
"Aunt Eleanor helped Mark forge my signature on the notary documents last Tuesday morning."
Thomas stopped dead in his tracks, his fists clenching so tightly that the leather of his uniform gloves squeaked.
The framed, triangle-cased US flag resting on the bedside table seemed to watch them all with solemn, patriotic judgment.
"Mark, walk over to that nightstand and put your hands flat on the wood," Thomas ordered, his voice echoing like thunder.
"Don't you dare test my patience."
Mark shook his head frantically, tears spilling over his cheeks as he backed away toward the staircase landing.
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"I'm calling the police!" Mark yelled, reaching behind his back to grab the brass doorknob.
"You can't hold me prisoner in my own home!"
