Every night in July, and every night in August. Until finally, it paid off.
Each night, I got a little more information. The information wasn’t wrong.
I stepped out of Jenny’s dilapidated building. In the shadows across the street, I saw a large male figure. He stood out because he wasn't dressed in street clothing. He wore an obviously tailored three-piece suit.
He never took his eyes off of me.
Fuck. It was Christopher Moore, one of my father’s closest friends. My father had two partners in his business. One was Christopher, and the other was Carl Simmons.
I’d never known him as anything other than Christopher. I’d never called him Mr. Moore, or Mr. Chris., or even Uncle Chris, just Christopher. He’d been around as long as I could remember.
Carl was the same way. He’d always been around. They were both at our home all the time. Unlike my father, neither were married. Neither had children.
What the hell was I supposed to do? Christopher had clearly seen me.
He either thought I’d joined the underworld to live a life on the streets, which would be totally out of character for me, or he knew exactly what I was doing. Had he been following me? Had he seen me with Jenny’s boyfriend, the one who knew way too much?
As I stepped onto the crosswalk, he took one step forward.
In the light of the streetlamp, his eyes glinted. He looked sinister. And I very much felt like his prey.
I speed walked away from him. I did turn back to look over my shoulder.
He didn’t follow me.
I arrived home around one a.m. My father was never aware of me coming or going. Our house was so big that I didn’t have to try and be quiet.
However tonight, I was as quiet as a mouse.
Once I got to my room, I closed the door behind me. Before I could begin to dismantle my costume someone knocked on my door. The staff never knocked on my door this late. Ever. Reluctantly I pressed my face against the Mahogany wood. “Who is it?”
“It's your father.”
Shit. What the hell was I going to do? My eyes darted to my large window. My room was on the second floor of our house. I could try to climb out the window and escape but I might break both my legs. I had a bag ready to go in case I needed to run.
My father knocked again. “Ava Elizabeth, let me in right now.” His voice boomed on the other side of the door. “I need to speak with you.”
I turned the deadbolt on my door and slowly pulled it open. My father was still in his work clothes. He’d shed his jacket and tie, but he still wore a white dress shirt and black suit pants.
I stood with my body still blocking the rest of my room. “Is there something I can help you with?” I asked.
“Can we sit down?”
“Do you want to go down to the dining room?” That was where we usually discussed family matters. when we bothered to have a discussion at all.
“No, I'd prefer to have the privacy that your room offers.”
He was right; my room was much more private than the dining room. A staff member only came into my room on Mondays to clean. But usually if we wanted privacy, we went to his library.
In my room, no one would be nearby to listen. My pulse picked up. I hoped my father wanting privacy wasn't a bad sign for me. Surely my own father wouldn't have me eliminated.
But I couldn't be certain. My family had never been loving, not in the way that families were depicted on television or in books. But I had truly believed they obeyed the law. Now that I knew that wasn't true, I wasn't certain of anything.
My father finally spoke. “I had a visit from Christopher tonight.”
“Oh yeah?” I did my best to sound bored, but there was a reason I went into journalism and not acting. It didn't really interest me, which was convenient because I was awful at it.
However, my father was obviously good at acting. He’d fooled me, along with an entire city.
This was who my father was. A wealthy businessman who was always working. But that wasn't the whole picture. He was a criminal. Not only did he break the law, but he was complicit in ruining people's lives.
It was clear that my father was the front man. He was an eloquent smooth talker, whereas Carl and Christopher had