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There is only one house on Asher Hill, and calling it a house doesn’t do it justice. It is more of a Victorian gothic-style mansion. It towers above an infinite lining of white steel fences, intertwined with a layered cobblestone drive. A black iron guard shack stands alone at the end of the public access, defending the beauty of what lies within. The neatly trimmed bushes and flower beds explode with color, adding depth to the scenery. Every time I drive by it, I can’t help but slow down to admire its beauty.
“Why have I never seen him before?” I question.
Although he may seem familiar, I can’t figure out why. I’d much rather act oblivious and see what details Sloan can give me.
“He sticks to himself. I think he comes from old money or something like that,” he says quickly, almost as if he’s rehearsed the lines. It’s like he doesn’t even believe his own words as they spill out with little effort. Like he’s trying to convince himself more than me.
“Huh,” I let out, dragging my eyes to his. “Did he know my dad?”
“Of course he did.” I can tell he wants to say more, but he doesn’t. He darts his eyes from mine and sips his drink.
Something about his answer doesn’t sit well with me. He said it so quickly with confidence, then like he knew he messed up, tried to crawl back into his shell.
“How do you know that?” I knew everyone my dad did, but that guy’s face doesn’t ring any bells as a friend.
He shrugs. “I just do, Charlie.” He walks away without another word.
Deciding I’ve had enough for the night, I walk to the front of the mayor’s house and ask for my coat. Once it is handed to me along with my purse, I dig my keys out and let them fall between my fingers. One of the many things dad taught me.When some things are drilled into your head so much growing up, it’s hard to forget it. It doesn’t matter where you are, always protect yourself.
The night air is crisp and clean as I step outside. A welcome change from the bouquet of floral perfumes and bursts of burning tobacco from inside. Valet was offered, but I decided against it. If anything went down or my anxiety got the best of me, I wanted to be able to leave without a hassle.
I stroll down the concrete drive. The music and chatter of the benefit party grow quieter as the distance separates us. Turning onto the sidewalk, I lean against a light pole and slip my heels off. My 2006 Pontiac GTO is less than fifty yards in front of me, but the sound of light steps crackling against small sticks has me momentarily frozen. My dad always said to never let anyone know they’ve been caught if you happen to catch them following you, so that’s what I’m going to do.
I take a deep breath and smooth the wrinkles in my dress. Heels in one hand and my keys in the other, I hold my head high and start the short trek to my car, regretting not getting valet service for the night.
The crackling gets louder, and dread creeps into my bones. My fingers tremble, and my breaths get away from me, but I don’t stop.
Just make it to your car, Charlie. Get in, lock the doors, then grab your Glock from under the seat.
I repeat it to myself, but it doesn’t help. Before I know it, a big hand is wrapping around my upper arm. My fight or flight kicks in, but in order to fly, I have to fight.
I turn quickly and swing my keyed hand, connecting with someone’s face, then I push the stems of my heels into their chest, knocking them off-balance. I spin quickly, not giving myself any time to look or inspect my damage. I run like my ass is on fire toward my car. My feet scream at me to stop as small rocks and twigs dig into them, and my lungs beg for air.
My stomach is in my throat, but I keep going. I make it to the driver’s side, fumbling with my key fob. My shaky fingers try and fail to push the unlock button, and in my scared fog, I do the one thing I should have never done.
I turn over my shoulder to see how close the person has come to me. Standing further back than the spot I left him at is the man with the red tie.
Theodore Hale.
Blood is oozing from a gash on his face, running from above his eyebrow down to the peak of his hardened cheek. His blue eyes lock on to me, and for a split second, I stand frozen again.
He sucks his teeth, sending a loud click into the night, before dragging his finger over the cut, then bringing it to his mouth. He smiles at me after all his blood is licked clean from his finger, a smile full of dread and mischief.
I break my eyes from his and look down, hitting the Unlock button on my fob. Luckily, the locks click open. I hurry and slide in starting the car. I grab my gun from under the seat, before releasing the e-brake and pushing in the clutch to shift into gear.
Within seconds I’m speeding away, telling myself not to look back because if I do, I have a feeling I won’t like what I see.
When I finally make it back to my apartment, I run up the stairs and throw open my door. I slam it closed behind me and secure every lock I have. Knob, dead bolt, and chain.
I pace my floor wondering why he would come after me. I mean, his touch seemed almost gentle and unsure when he grabbed me, but who the fuck creeps up on someone like that at night? I try and push the thoughts of him away, but it doesn’t work. I panic anytime the wind blows, and the small branches of the tree tap the glass of my window.
Stupid fucking tree.
I lie down in bed, but all night I toss and turn, seeing nothing but his piercing blue eyes every time I drift off.
