Chapter ONE - Weebly

spot for a prison, set in the midst of some of the nicer
houses in Boston and within hailing distance of the First
Church. The prison itself was a simple building, notable
only for its ancient, ponderous oak door and the heavily
rusted iron hardware that held it in place. Its windows
were small, the stonework plain and homely. It was no
more or less inviting than any other gaol. Yet, as they
approached it, Ethan couldn’t help but quail. Too many
memories; too many years lost.
Then they were past that massive door and the
shadow of the building itself, still walking eastward on
Queen Street. Relief washed over him, followed
immediately by a new kind of fear. If they didn’t intend
to place him in the prison, what was this about?
“Where are you taking me?” Ethan asked.
Greenleaf glanced back at him, amused. “I was
wondering when you would ask.” He waved a hand
vaguely in the direction of the prison. “You assumed we
were taking you there. A guilty conscience, perhaps?”
Ethan ignored the gibe. “Where are we going?”
“The Town House,” the man said, facing forward
again.