“Ms. Jameson, a man’s voice called out. “We’re almost there.”

The words echoed in my mind but despite my efforts, I couldn’t see anyone.

“Ms. Jameson.” The voice grew louder. “Ms. Jameson,” he shouted.

I bolted upright in my seat, bumping my head on something hard. “What?” I said, blinking away the fogginess consuming me. “Yes, what?” I repeated.

“Where am I?” I shook my head, trying to jar my memory.

“We’re nearly there now,” the man said.

“Where?” My eyes scanned the area. I was in a car. A moving car. But why?

“Laucherfield Castle.” His deep voice pronounced the destination as if I should have already known. “Are you all right, ma’am?”

I stared out the window and saw we were traveling down a narrow road, on the wrong side. And he was in the passenger’s seat holding a steering wheel. And he spoke with a British accent. Things were definitely not all right.

I shook my head again, willing myself to wake up. I had to be stuck in a dream. Or worse, a nightmare. About Annemarie.

I glanced out of the window again, hoping the scenery would jar my memory.

Rolling hills of green grass dotted the landscape for as far as the eyes could see. Shrubbery ran across the fields in diagonal lines, making the countryside look like a patchwork quilt. The land was beautiful, breathtaking, like nothing I’d ever seen before.

“There,” he said, pointing out the front windshield.

In the distance, I noticed a high hill with a large structure near the top.

“There, on Laucherfield Hill, that’s the castle.”

Castle? Think Laurel, I willed myself. What was going on? Where was I, and why?

“Are you sure you’re all right, Ms. Jameson?” the driver asked again, staring at me in the rearview mirror.

I wasn’t all right, that much was clear. Something deep in my gut told me I had to pull myself together, and soon.

I cleared my throat. “Um, yes, I’m fine. I must have dozed off. I’m sorry. Just give me a few minutes and I’ll be fine,” I said, even though I knew it was a lie. I would never be fine again.

Staring out the window as we approached a beautiful stone arched bridge, I saw a narrow river running underneath.

The driver slowed before coming to a complete stop in the middle of the bridge.

While the structure was beautiful, it was barely wide enough for one to pass and I wondered why he’d stopped.

“I thought you might like to see the River Dee,” he said, answering my silent question. “You can see the castle from here.” He pointed to the right, just up the hill. “And this bridge, the River Dee, marks the beginning of the Lauchlan Estate.”

Lauchlan Estate?

The name sounded familiar. My gaze cut to the driver’s in the rearview mirror.

He smiled. “Your new home.”

New home?

Oh, God.

Suddenly, haunting memories came flooding back. My stomach lurched and I thought I might vomit. This place would be no home for me. It would be a prison. My prison for the next six months.