The Devil's Wedding Ring
he said, his face a mask of professional indifference.
"I’m not taking anything from you," I said, my glare burning into him. "Where is Jane? What did you do with her?"
Daniel didn't answer. He simply held out the small white cup with the pill. "Mr. Vane is very concerned about your health. Stress is bad for the placental attachment. Please, take the medicine."
I looked at the pill, then at his hand. He was wearing a heavy platinum ring on his pinky finger, a crest I didn't recognize. Something about the way he held himself felt familiar, but I couldn't place it.