Chapter Fifty-Five - Ava

My sister sat down on the bed as I scrolled through my emails. Bree had emailed me a few ideas for the gallery but I wasn’t in the mood to look at them.

My mind raced with what-ifs. Fletcher’s dad being hurt was shocking. It seemed like a bulldozer couldn’t take him down.

“Are you leaving?” I asked Charlotte.

She nodded. “Yeah, I need to go to the office and let them know I’m alive. I have a question. What do you think of Duke?”

I smiled. “That he has the hots for you.”

She snorted. “Yeah, well, he’s a brute. And…”

“Handsome,” I interjected. “He’s really handsome.”

Charlotte sighed. “You know how I feel about brutes, Ava.”

I shifted so that I was leaning back against the headboard. “You’re skeptical because of his job and how much money he makes.”

She laughed. “Sue me for wanting a man that does well in life.”

“He gets paid well. It’s an underground ring and it’s dangerous,” I said. “Which is exactly why you don’t want me here.”

Charlotte cut her eyes at me. “He asked me out on a date. I haven’t been on one in a long time. Maybe when all of this settles down, I can go out with him?”

It was shocking but I didn’t let it show on my face. I wanted Charlotte to be happy and Duke seemed like a really good guy.

“I think you should go. A date won’t hurt anything. You’re not signing a marriage contract or joining a mafia family, Charlotte. It's just a date."

She laughed and tucked a piece of hair behind her ear. “I heard about Mr. Capello. Too bad you can’t go visit him.”

I shrugged. “It’s part of life right now, ya know? I understand Fletcher’s need for me to stay here. We don’t know what they have planned.”

“You’re right,” Charlotte said, standing up and kissing my forehead. “I have to ask a guard to take me home. Do you know which one?”

“Jones normally takes me.”

She nodded. “I’ll call you and you better answer.”

“Tell me how your date with Duke goes.”

She smiled over her shoulder and made her way down the hall. I watched until she disappeared. The distant smell of coffee and breakfast pulled me from the bed.

Lucinda stood in the kitchen when I pushed the swinging door inward. “Good morning,” I said.

Lucinda smiled over her shoulder. “Good morning, Mrs. Hines. I kept the coffee hot for you. Mr. Hines made it early this morning.”

I frowned while taking the mug from her. Fletcher had been up early this morning. I briefly wondered if my talking to him about the future had kept him awake.

I sat down and Lucinda handed me a plate of pancakes and bacon. “Thank you, Lucinda. Will you join me again this morning?”

“Sure thing, Mrs. Hines. I enjoy the company.”

She sat down in Fletcher’s seat and started making her plate. I took a bite of pancake. The silence took over the table as we both ate. “Mr. Hines’ father is in the hospital.”

She gasped. “What happened?”

“He fell.”

“Oh, poor guy,” she mumbled. “He’s never been the same since his wife passed. She was a lovely woman.”

“I wish I could have known her,” I said.

“She would have liked you. She wanted Fletcher to find someone who would truly love him. She was afraid women would be after him for his money.”

I snorted. “I’m sure there were plenty of women that wanted his money.”

“You don’t,” Lucinda said.

I smiled over my fork. “You’re right. I don’t care about his money, but I care about his life. It worries me when he walks out of the door every day that he may not come back.”

Lucinda only nodded because what else was there to say about that? We continued eating, and she rejected my offer to help clean. I walked toward our bedroom and stopped at the edge of the grand staircase.

My curiosity got the best of me and I slipped to the second floor. I didn’t dare venture into the library because Fletcher asked me not to.

Instead, I walked down to the bedrooms and looked inside. Most of them seemed untouched, but one comforter looked smashed from someone sleeping there.

Maybe Duke had slept on the second floor? I ran my fingers across the comforter and I felt the warmth beneath my fingertips. My brows furrowed as I back stepped out of the room.

Had someone recently slept on this bed? They had been gone long enough that no comforter would still be warm from their touch.

Slowly, I backed out of the room and shut the door. Chills raked down my spine as I looked in every other room until I’d looked in them all.

I was being paranoid. Of course, I was. I brushed off the feeling of being watched and went to our bedroom to get dressed.

The silence weighed heavily on me as I pulled on a summer dress and attempted to fix my hair.

My fingertips twitched as I listened for sounds that weren’t there.

Lucinda had ventured over to her house as she usually did between breakfast and lunch. She’d shut the back door and locked it. There were guards walking around from fence to fence.

No one could have gotten into this house. I was being frantic and stupid. I slipped into my studio and sat down in front of an empty canvas. Painting would take my mind off the worries resting in my chest.

I shot Fletcher a text asking about his father, but he didn’t reply quickly like he usually did.

I could only imagine the fear he was having at the moment.

I spent the next two hours painting when my stomach grumbled. I needed a small snack from the kitchen because my monthly visitor was coming and I always found myself hungrier during that time.

There were fresh-cut strawberries in the fridge, so I pulled them out and walked back to the studio.

My door was wide open when I turned the corner. I remembered cracking it when I left. Had the air swept it open? Or had Lucinda snuck in somehow?

I stepped over and into the room. It was vacant. There was nowhere for anyone to hide there. I sat down and put my strawberries to the side of me. The canvas with a portrait of my sister stared back at me.

This lifestyle changed my sense of security. Sure, I lived in a hellhole with loiters before but this was something different. This was a different playing field.

I slipped a slice of strawberry into my mouth and swallowed it. The sound of the backdoor opening caught my attention and I sighed. Lucinda must have come back to start lunch.

Ten minutes later, I heard the soft sound of someone moving about the house. The cleaners only came once a week and this wasn’t Wednesday. I stood up slowly and looked down the hall each way.

The hair on the back of my neck stood up as I heard two people whispering. The guards would have made their selves known. Fear pickled down my back as I eyed the edge of the staircase from the distance.

I slid against the hallway wall and tip-toed down the hallway toward the stairs. When I made it to the bottom step, I dared a look around. The front windows were bright with sunlight. But it wasn’t the sun that caught my attention. It was the guard lying on the front steps. I gasped loudly, hearing several footsteps drawing close to the entranceway.

I jetted up the stairs, seeing two masked people turning onto the stairs as I found Fletcher’s childhood bedroom.

I raced toward the closet, and nervously put in the code to the safe room.

Their feet thundered into the room as I caught their gaze from the crack in the safe room door. One launched at me but the seal shut seconds before he made it.

I sighed heavily and rested my head against the wall. I reached for my cell phone but I’d left it in the studio. I closed my eyes and tears began to race down my cheeks.

The small phone in the corner shimmered in the dim lighting. I reached for it and dialed Fletcher’s number but he didn’t answer.

When I put it back down, I heard laughter from the bedroom. Then something loud hit the safe room door. How long would it take for them to break through?

Could they break through?

Had they hurt all the guards? Or Lucinda? How in the hell did they get inside?

I attempted to call Fletcher again but he didn’t answer.

Why wasn’t he answering the phone? I attempted to call Ava’s number but she’d changed it and I couldn’t remember.

I could call 911 but I was afraid to with the Hines’ reluctance to call the police. Would a look into their life spark an investigation by the police? Would they arrest them for only God knew what?

“Come on out, Ava Terry,” a feminine voice said. “We just want to play.”