Shaking my head violently, I pull in a deep breath. “I need to talk to my father. He’s the one who will know what to do about all of this.”
“Are you going to be all right?” Ellie asks, her voice low and concerned as her eyes drift out the window.
“I’ll be fine. I just need to get home and figure all of this out. I’m sorry that you had to deal with any of this today,” I admit. Ellie was the first friend whom I had made in years and here we were being threatened by some douchebag because of some business bullshit my father has gotten himself into.
“Don’t be sorry. I am just worried about you,” she breathes out as Rolland pulls up to the curb in front of her house.
“I am going to be fine. Promise. I’ll see you on Monday.”
“Sounds like a plan. Call me later and let me know how everything is going?”
“I promise.”
Rushing into the house, I pull open the door to my father’s study without knocking.
Looking up from his computer, my father takes off his reading glasses. “Lottie? What’s wrong?”
My chest is heaving, my knees are shaking, my head is spinning.
Everything...out of control.
“I need to tell you something and I know that you’re not going to believe me, but I don’t know what else to do,” I huff, raking my fingers through my long, loose hair. The tiny hairs on the back of my neck prickle.
“Sit,” my father instructs as he points to the armchair opposite him.
I shake my head. “I can’t sit. I can’t breathe!”
“Charlotte, what in the hell is going on?” my father’s voice booms as his spine stiffens. He pushes back his chair and takes a few steps toward me.
“Dad, someone is following me. I first saw him at the airport right when I got home. He was at the beach the night I left your car there. Then he showed up at the accident scene dressed in a police uniform. And he said…” I swallow hard. “He said next time I’d end up like my brother.” I choke back the sob rising in my chest. “He showed up again today while I was shopping with Ellie. He told me that I had to give you a message.”
“What kind of message?” Charles Hawthorne’s usual stoic face twists into confusion as I burst into tears in the middle of the office.
“He said that his boss doesn’t like how slowly you’re moving, and if you want to keep their business you need to show them what you can offer.” The words rush out of my mouth and I watch the expression on my father’s face morph from one of disgust to pure, unadulterated fear. And that chills me more than the threats spewed by Scarface.
“What does this man look like?” His jaw is tight as his irises flare with deep-seated rage.
“He’s tall, big, and has a huge scar running down the side of his face. I’ll never be able to forget that ugly pink gash of a scar. It haunts my dreams.”
“Lottie, please sit down,” my father says as he reaches out a hand to me. “Why didn’t you say anything to me about this man? How could you have kept this to yourself?”
Lacing my fingers with his, I sink down onto the plush leather couch. Tears sting my eyes, but I blink them back, trying to hold myself together. “I’ll admit, the first couple of times he appeared were creepy. But it wasn’t until the memories from the accident bubbled up that I realized how dangerous he might be. And I’m sorry for not saying anything sooner,” I whimper, unable to hold back any longer. “It’s just that I didn’t think you’d care. I mean, ever since Andrew died, I’ve felt like a ghost in my own house. For years, you’ve barely acknowledged me, treating me like a stranger instead of the only child you have left. I was always doing the wrong thing, hanging out with the wrong people...never as good as the son you lost.” My shoulders quake and I cover my face with one hand. “And then you sent me away. You tore me from my life with no regard for how much you hurt me. That’s why I didn’t say anything. I didn’t think you’d care. But now you need to know...to hear that we’re all in some kind of danger.” I swallow past the lump in my throat. “Are you mixed up