by Barefoot, LW
Tom passes the photo back to Evan. I look at the girl’s dead body and I feel my throat close up. My pulse beating overtime. Cold sweat trickles down my neck as I take in the fresh Roman numeral scarring her skin.
“Harper, it’s not your fault,” Tom offers.
“She has red hair,” I whisper to no one particular.
If I hadn’t freaked out and left Chicago, this poor girl would be alive. We would still be playing a game of cat and mouse with the Sculptor. His attention and focus would still be on me.
“As far as you’re concerned I was never here. My direct orders were to wait. We have to see how the crime report and autopsy come back. Don’t worry, Harper, Evan has assured me you will be safe. I think it’s a good idea to get you out of the city for a few days.”
“Tom, I’m coming with you. If the offer is still on the table. I don’t want another woman to suffer because I’m scared. I don’t have anything keeping me here in New Orleans. I don’t expect you, Jamie, to go with me, either.” I’ve got their attention, and they better listen. “I’m tired. I’m so tired and I don’t want to spend the rest of my life running, watching as he lashes out on someone else,” I confess with a heavy hopeless heart.
Evan and Jamie both erupt when I finish. Brad stares at me like I’ve just signed my own death certificate.
Jamie landed his dream job and he’s happy. I don’t want my fucked up life to ruin his anymore. I wanted Evan, but after this morning, I can’t stand the thought anymore. He wanted a convenient mistress, a fuck toy he could push around with no emotional attachment. All our interactions have been about warming me up and prepping me for what he desires. I’m sure I’m one of the few women who gets off on pain, but it’s one thing to push my body around, not my fragile emotions.
While the two of them argue, accusing each other for my sudden change of heart, I keep my eyes trained on Tom. I know I’ve shocked him. He sits there studying me. Neither one of us pay attention to the other men in the room, or what they’re saying. I’m offering myself to Tom on a silver platter.
“It’s convenient, really. Evan already packed for me. See, there’s my suitcase. I need to grab my purse and we could be on our way. I’m all yours. We could take my car if you like, I’m sure flights are impossible right now.”
I go to stand up and Evan pushes me back down on the couch, restraining me. I don’t even think as my hand strikes across his face. The force of the hit sends his head to the side and my palm blazes. I’ve never resorted to violence, but I’ve had it with him. The sound of the slap silences the room and Tom stands to grab my suitcase. Evan’s jaw clenches as he addresses Tom.
“Tom. You touch that suitcase and you lose my cooperation. Completely. No more risking my neck to help you. So I pray to God you stick to our agreement and help me. You know firsthand, Brad and the rest of my team are more than capable of keeping her safe. If Harper stays, you have my word I will follow through with our deal. If you take her, you’ll regret it,” Evan spits out.
I listened to every single word Evan spoke, but kept my focus on Tom. His features shifted and Evan’s statement holds some sort of power over Tom I don’t have the slightest clue about. Jamie and I’s eyes meet, we’re the only two that’s left out of the loop. Tom and Evan were strangers in Chicago and now they’re working together. Evan feeds Tom information, but about what? I don’t even care at this point.
“You can’t force me to go with you Evan. Let go of me.”
“I’m doing what’s best for you. You’re emotional and you’re not thinking rationally. Harper, listen to me,” his voice lowers, “You have no idea what’s happening around you. You’re in shock from your nightmare only to wake up to be living in one. You think I’m only using you, but that’s nowhere close to the truth.”
“Then why don’t you clear it up for me.”
I’m not comfortable addressing the matter in front of everyone, but I don’t care enough to stop the demand from slipping out.
“I swear to you I will explain everything,” he whispers.
Evan tells Brad that we’re leaving and we need to load up. Brad watches my reaction before shaking hands with Tom like old friends.
“Harper, we’ll be in touch. I promise,” Tom offers.
I let him embrace me. Tom follows Evan out of the room so they can speak without my emotional rollercoaster and confusion interrupting them.
Jamie pulls me into his arms and we hold each other. I can feel his apprehension, it matches my own. He promises he wouldn’t let anything happen to me, but he can’t see the storm that’s brewing inside of me, and he’s the only person that should be able to detect it. Again here we are, unable and incapable of supporting each other. His words are little lies that float away before they reach my ears as I shut down. I shut off and I’m on autopilot. Jamie’s reassurances are thrown out in a feeble attempt to soothe me. Regardless, I love him for trying.
Brad comes back in the living room and Jamie lets me go. They both nod to each other and I move outside to the car. Evan’s behind the wheel, as I climb up in the back seat. Brad lifts Rufus up and puts him in the back with me, placing his dog food bag on the floorboard.
We drive through the early morning hours of the French Quarter. It’s quiet on the streets and I envy the few people who are out soaking up this otherwise beautiful day. I try to focus on anything to keep my mind from thinking about the latest victim. Out of the corner of my eye I see the blind woman standing on the other side of the window. I want to look away from her but I can’t. She wears the same ratty clothes she had on when I ran into her weeks ago.
As the car pulls away from the stop light and people walk around her standing still on the sidewalk, she pushes her glasses up, her bright solid white eyes see me. I shiver as it feels like her gaze locks with mine. It could just be my imagination, but as the car drives slowly down Decatur Street it looks as if she wipes tears from underneath her eyes and across her cheeks.
I swear the image will stay with me forever.
I watch as we drive further away from New Orleans. Evan pulls over for breakfast. I drink my flavorless latte and feed Ru’ whatever it is fast food places offer now. His nose even wrinkles at the greasy smell, but he takes the food I’m not willing to eat and licks his fat cheeks in appreciation. I ignore Brad’s reprimands for feeding Rufus people food, but I’m not sure people should even eat that.
“Aren’t we all on borrowed time?” I say and realize both Evan and Brad weigh the truth of my words.
I feel Evan occasionally watch me from the rearview mirror, even though my question shuts everyone up.
By the time I close my eyes tonight, the stress of this morning is going to send me reeling back into a nightmare where my destiny awaits me. I take deep cleansing breaths. Mentally counting the roadsigns. Memorizing the stupid advertisements that line the highway bridge. Looking out over the swamp lands trying to spot an alligator or crane.
My imagination works overtime on how the hell I’m supposed to be calm and rational, when I’m everything but that. The Sculptor’s voice went silent when I saw the photo of his latest victim. And what’s worse than his words is the cutting smile on his handsome face that destroys any illusions I have about being safe and out of his sight.
Harper
The change from pavement to dirt has the car bumping along, until the tires pull onto a smooth paved surface.
I watch from the backseat as we drive under enormous old oak trees. It appears they form a tunnel around the wide one lane road. The tops of the trees meet and their branches interlock. Spanish moss drips down the overgrown limbs. I’ve seen roads like this in photos, but in person they are simply majestic. Not even the ancient oaks in City Park hold this kind of beauty and mystery.
Evan notices my amusement and pulls the sunroof open, allowing me to take in the glorious trees even more, granting me a different viewpoint.
The road winds, curves, and twists. The rows of trees reveal a huge white antebellum p
lantation after several minutes of driving through the mesmerizing tunnel. The mansion is surrounded by pristine, manicured grass. Intricate iron railing adorn multiple porches and balconies. Black shutters are thrown wide on every window and door. Gas lamps flicker even in daylight. Tall Greek columns reach up to the second story. The details are breathtaking. A large porch and sweeping steps lead up to the massive front doors. The sheer magnitude of such a place is too much, and yet, I find myself happy that this place exists.
A man in a suit as sophisticated as his smile walks up to the car and opens the door for me. I accept the offered hand and climb out. I stretch before I pick Ru’ up and place him on the ground.
“Miss Harper, you may let go of the dog’s leash. Rufus, am I correct?” the man asks. “We have been expecting you,” he adds reading my look of confusion.
He smiles and addresses Evan, “Mr. Hawthorne, I trust your drive was pleasant?”
“Yes. Thank you, Martin. Would you please bring the bags up?”
“What room would you like me to place Harper’s in?” he asks.
“Mine,” Evan says without hesitation.
Evan holds out his hand for me to take.
“Come. Please, I want to show you around and figure out a way to win you back over.”
It’s not going to happen, I think to myself, but I slide my hand in his. His peaceful demeanor washes over me and I find myself wanting to feel the way he feels instead of the enormous divide between us, but it doesn’t work.
He squeezes my hand in reassurance, trying to calm my nerves.
We enter the foyer. Every square inch of the space is preserved and resplendent. A staircase straight out of a movie beckons for you to move up to the second floor. I take in the wood work and carpeting. The detailed ceiling a masterpiece.
This place is exactly like the estates that tour groups visit around Louisiana and the deep South. Complete with guides and brochures boasting of the colorful history. I feel like I need one of those in this place with a map on it. By some genius, the large mansion manages to feel welcoming and not at all like a museum. Enough attention to detail was paid in pairing antiques and architecture with modern elements.
I hear a familiar voice squeal and Ru’ snorts in excitement. Mae walks out from one of the large open doorways.
“Where have y’all been?” Mae admonishes us as she hugs me, Ru’ wiggles at her feet.
“It’s so good to see you again, Harper,” she says.
“My apologies, Mae. We’re here now,” Evan explains.
He struggles not to smile at her, as she wraps her arms around him in a tight hug.
“We’ve been waiting since we received your call last night to get everything prepared early,” she says, “I placed the packages you sent in the master suite like you requested. You can leave this sweet little guy with me. I’ll make sure he’s well taken care of.”
Mae turns to Rufus and speaks in that voice you reserve only for babies and puppies. Ru’ punches the air at Mae and shakes in excitement.
“Thank you, Mae,” Evan says.
Ru’s paws drag across the floor as he saunters off after Mae. She speaks to him like no one is listening, asking about the drive out here and if he’s hungry.
Evan walks us around the bottom floor. It’s too much to take in all at once. Too many rooms and too many hallways to keep track of.
He guides us into what I assume is the grand ballroom. The parquet floors gleam from a recent polish. He smiles playfully at me and steps away. Bowing in front of me and extending his hand. It feels like a concession and a silent peace offering. I take it and he spins us around the room. No music is needed for us to get lost in each other. I envision layers of twirling fabric around my ankles and an ascot around Evan’s throat.
I soak up the feeling of being in his arms, no matter how mad I am. Our hands lightly graze over each other. Time passes as we sway, his arm wraps around my waist. He pulls me closer to him.
Words would break the silent serenity, but I can’t keep in what’s bothering.
“Why did you bring me here?”
He stops and runs a hand down my cheek, reminding me of how I slapped him earlier. I feel guilty, but he hasn’t mentioned it and I am not about to remind him.
“Because I want you, Harper.”
Want is such a fickle word, short lived, and never lasting. It comes nowhere close to what I need him to say.
“What about your betrothed?” I ask, the term seems appropriate in this setting.
“She’s more like an obligation. I thought I could go through with it,” he admits.
“Why the change of heart?”
“Isn’t it obvious?” he asks, his gaze sparkling with surprise. “You changed everything.”
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to.”
“Of course, you didn’t. You don’t see yourself the way you should. I should not have fallen for your easy grace or hidden innocence, but that didn’t stop me, either.”
“Why would you marry someone you don’t love?” I press him.
“It was a convenient arrangement we both needed. I warned you we both had secrets.”
“And you don’t trust me enough to tell me yours.”
Evan laughs at that statement.
“You don’t think you know my darkest secret, Harper. Come on, it has been right in front of your face and you not only respond to me, you come alive when we’re together.”
A memory of his statement in Chicago after the first time we had sex slams into me. He mentioned how relieved he was to finally find someone who responded to him the way I did. I thought it odd, because he’s gorgeous and everything anyone could want.
“I see those wheels turning in that pretty little head of yours,” he states.
“How is that such a shocking secret?” I ask.
“We’re in a different part of the country than where you’re from. There are standards and rules of society. Those rules are not respected because people want to be polite. They keep them upheld because if you don’t, your weakness will be used against you. Everyone’s a vulture, seeking, searching for any scrap of information. You wanted to know about my family, but I want to save you from their claws because they rule everything and they would love nothing more than to tear into you, if only to use you against me. Use you to keep me in line and loyal.”
Every time he says family, it comes with a clip of his tongue and a bitter bite after it’s spoken.
“What about her secret? Your fiancée?”
“The same scandalous thing, only she’s more likely to climb in bed with you than she is with me and she prefers to wield the whip.”
“So it’s that easy. A marriage of convenience?”
“There’s nothing easy or convenient about it. Nothing at all,” he shakes his head. “The haze lifted the night I met you. I fell under your spell and I haven’t broken free from it since.”
“Then what about these last two weeks, Evan? Where have you been?”
“I’m sure you know by now that Tom and Brad worked together at the Bureau before Brad moved back home. Once Tom found out I’m from the Hawthorne family they’ve been trying to take down for decades, we struck a deal in Chicago. He leveraged you to me. I feed crucial information to him, he keeps you a secret. I don’t trust my family and Tom doesn’t trust his superiors. It wasn’t his idea to use you as bait, Harper.” Evan breaks off, reluctant to say more but he continues, “I needed time to make things look like nothing has changed.”
“But we left. Won’t that look obvious?” I ask.
“No. This trip was planned whether or not you were with me. The suspicious murder made sure you came along because I’m not letting you out of my sight. There’s an annual party held here to kickoff and celebrate Mardi Gras and it needs to go off exactly as it has the last few years. We have several days to relax and go over everything. Let me show you the rest of the house.”
We walk holding hands as he continues the tour. A quiet peac
e settles in with Evan’s explanation of his engagement, but that feeling competes with dread. I’m not the only one trying to keep away from villains. One believes I belong to him and Evan makes it sound like he’s from a whole gang of them.
Elegant antiques and aging paintings pull my attention to observe and admire them. The plantation is beautiful and updated, but it retains the charm and sophistication of times long gone.
Evan stops showing me every single room and parlor. I joke that I’m already lost and he reassures me I will get used to the space and learn my way around.
“Do I need to remind you that as soon as we stepped foot in the house, I lost my dog?” I smile up at him after he shows me his office.
“He’s with Mae in the kitchen, and she’s probably trying to fatten him up. Anyways, it’s not like Ru’ is stealthy. Trust me you’ll hear the echoes of his lazy feet well before he enters a room,” he smirks.
I laugh because he’s so brutally accurate, as we circle back to what I assume is the main area of the house. Large double doors open up to the most drool-worthy library in existence. Two floors encase wooden bookshelves with rolling ladders to reach the books at the top. A spiral staircase leads up to the second level, equipped with a matching ladder for that floor. Every inch of shelf space is filled with books. An enormous fireplace stands against the far wall and it’s the centerpiece for the room. Oversized leather furniture is arranged in different seating areas and massive chaise lounges that could fit several people.
I’m still fantasizing about the library as Evan walks us up the stairs. At the top, he leads me down a long hallway. Wide with crystal chandeliers sparkling with the sunlight streaming through the windows.
“Is this your family’s home?” I ask, wanting to know more about this place.
“No. This is my home. They don’t come here.”
“I thought you lived in New Orleans.”
“I have more than one residence. This one happens to be my favorite,” he says and it should be.
At the end of the hallway, two large doors lead into the master suite. My suitcase lays open. My clothes hang in an antique wardrobe.