Chapter Four
That night I dream of a fire licking at my skin, and when I wake, I’m sweating in my sheets. My mattress is on the floor, the only thing remaining in the room after my Victorian bedroom set was sold through an antiques dealer. I don’t want to dream anymore, so I get up and roam the halls. The moonlight slices through the heavy branches, drawing geometric patterns on the empty wooden floors.
I head downstairs and pour a glass of water. It slides down my throat, cool and centering. Whatever happens in that auction, I’ll get through it. Only a month and then it will be over.
I’m making the right choice, aren’t I?
A shadow through the window catches my eye, and my blood turns cold. It must be a wild branch from the bushes. This is what happens when they aren’t trimmed. Still, I stand to the side, watching the window. Only darkness stares back at me.
I laugh uneasily. “You’re paranoid, Avery.”
Meeting with criminals must have made me suspicious.
Another shadow crosses the window. My heart leaps into my throat, thick and pulsing. Oh God. Did I see someone outside? My imagination turns wild—monsters and imaginary beings. Those myths from my books come to life.
More likely it would be a burglar who hasn’t realized we lost everything of value.
Or maybe someone did know about our fall from grace—and that I would be alone and unprotected in the house. My blood runs cold. As Gabriel Miller pointed out, I have one thing left of value. My body. My virginity. Maybe the man outside wants that.
I step close to the window, trying to see outside. The moon hides behind a cloud, the ground lights obscured by overgrowth, leaving the lawn almost completely black.
Is someone hiding out there?
Are they picking the lock even while I stand here, defenseless?
My imagination’s getting the better of me. No one would be out there. I have my entire life in safety. I hadn’t realized that anyone would want to hurt us until the police called me. A dish washer found my father behind their restaurant.
They dumped his body there after beating him.
What if they’ve come back to finish the job?
Ice in my veins, I dash back up the stairs. My phone sits beside my mattress. I grab it and start to dial the number for Uncle Landon. He’s the only one in Tanglewood who still speaks to me.
Then I remember the strange light in his eyes when he talked about my mother.
The longing was surprising enough, but there was something darker underneath. Resentment. Maybe anger.
Instead I find myself dialing my friend Harper. I glance at the time just as she picks up. After two in the morning. No doubt she’s still awake. I don’t know when she sleeps. She’s the pale blonde co-ed to my girl next door, the marble statue to my straw man. The real deal.
“Avery!” she says, breathless. “Jesus God, it’s like you fell off the face of the planet.”
I know from the southern drawl in her voice that she’s very drunk. A faint beat in the background underscores her words, reminding me of late-night study sessions and frat parties at the nearby university. That should be my life right now.
Instead I’m huddling against the wall in a dark, empty house. “I’m sorry I didn’t call sooner, but I’m kind of freaked out.”
“I’m freaking out,” she says, laughing. “Are you coming back now? I’ve missed you!”
There’s a sound from outside—a scratch. My breathing speeds up. “I think someone’s outside.”
The sound of shuffling and the slam of a door come over the line. Immediately the volume drops. “Wait, what’s going on?” she says, sounding more sober. “Are you okay?”
I was too ashamed of my fall from grace to call Harper with a play-by-play of Daddy’s trial. She left me a couple voicemails, but how could I explain that I was never going back to school? I could barely even admit the truth to myself. The entire life I had when I knew her is gone now.
“I don’t know,” I whisper, resting my back against the wall beside the window. “I might be losing my mind.”
One man offered to sell my virginity, another proposed marriage, all in the same day. It was enough to make a girl go crazy. Yes, I’d gone round the bend. I had to pray that’s the cause of those shadows and noises.
“Break it down for me,” she says. “You said you’re at home. Your dad’s house, right?”
She knows about the charges he faced. I admitted that much when I left school last semester. She may have even read about the convictions if she followed the trial. But my father’s beating isn’t public knowledge. “He’s sick,” I say, which is an understatement. “And it’s just the two of us. I thought I saw something outside but…I don’t know for sure.”
“Can you call the cops?”
We aren’t exactly on the cops’ favored list after my dad was indicted on multiple counts of fraud and embezzlement. The last thing I want to do is call them only to find a racoon outside. They would probably arrest me for making a false emergency call. And then who would take care of Daddy?
“I guess I’d like to know there’s something really out there before I call. I’ve had kind of a wild day, so maybe I’m just imagining things.”
“Okay, well, obviously I want to hear about this wild day, but can’t you call your dad’s people? Didn’t he have some kind of security detail?”
There were always men trailing us when we went to the zoo or the museum. They went out of their way to be unobtrusive, but I thought it was normal. Only when I got older did I realize how strange it was. My dad said it was just a precaution, something to keep us safe after my mother died in a drunk-driving accident.
Then the scandal hit.
Daddy’s business lost all its contracts even before he was found guilty. And he couldn’t afford the security guards when he needed them most. Couldn’t afford them when he most needed protection.
“We don’t have them anymore. After the court cases—” I remember the horror of seeing my dad in the hospital, half his face covered in bruises, the other half in bandages. It was worse when the doctors explained that he would probably never walk again. “Things have been bad.”
She makes a sympathetic sound. “You should have called me.”
“I know. I was just…embarrassed. Maybe a little bit in denial.”
“Okay, look. Are the floodlights on? Can you turn something on outside to see better?”
“This is why I called you.” I’m so flustered by Uncle Landon that I can’t even think. No, that’s not true. It’s Gabriel who’s kept me up late, tossing and turning in bed. “There have to be lights somewhere.”
I never had occasion to use them, but I go into the mud room and find a long row of lights. Already I feel less shaky from hearing Harper’s familiar voice. Both of us made our way in the world like American princesses, unafraid and confident of our acceptance. Some of that old comfort winds its way to me across the phone line.
“Turning on the lights,” I tell her, laying my palm sideways to flip them all up at once.
Blinding white lights flood the lawn like an airplane strip. And that’s when I see the man working at the electricity box, something glinting in his hand. Is he cutting the power? Oh God. My pulse races as I stand rooted to the tile floor.
“Avery? Avery!” Harper’s voice comes to me as if from far away.
“Someone’s here,” I say faintly.
The man stumbles back, surprised by the sudden lights. He’s wearing a black hooded jacket and dark jeans. I can’t see his face.
“Avery, do you hear me? Go into your bedroom and lock the door.”
My feet carry me—not to my bedroom, but to my father’s. I lock the door and sink to the floor, listening to Harper borrow a friend’s phone and call the cops. She talks to me through the next few minutes, promising me that everything will be okay.
I know she’s wrong. Even if I make it through tonight, my life is over.
My dad doesn’t wake up, the steady beeps telling me he’s fine.
The cops show up with a loud bang on the door. They explore the large grounds, but there’s no sign of an intruder. Their expressions are disbelieving when I describe what I saw, but it doesn’t matter. I know now that we aren’t safe here. We won’t be safe anywhere. Not without money.