The Hawks_A Novel

by SD Hendrickson

  I knew he was right, but I also knew this was something I needed to do. Something for my future. “Maybe I believe any job worth having is not easy.”

  “Maybe.” He nodded. “And maybe you will be fine, considering you’re number seven.”

  “Seven?”

  “Yes. She scheduled ten interviews and you were number seven. I believe that’s a lucky number, which makes you lucky, Sarina.”

  “Maybe you’re right.” I smiled at Javier as I lifted my chin just a notch higher in unwavering confidence. “Or maybe luck had nothing to do with it. I told you I was here to change my life. And I meant it. Maybe this was all . . . me impressing the shit out of her.”

  Present Day

  LUCK IS A FICKLE THING. In order for one person to be lucky, another has to burn. Someone is saved with the flip of a coin while someone else has to handle the burdens or face the consequences or feel the pain. There’s nothing lucky about sleeping safely in your bed across town while someone else is being held at gunpoint in the most beautiful house in the city.

  I won’t lie. Maybe I used to believe in the wistful element of luck; even though luck had never really been on my side. Not with my family—especially not with me. This job. This place had always been temporary no matter how lucky it had felt in the beginning. My heart already knew that fact before the intruders came in the house. But I never thought this job would end like this.

  Or we would end like this.

  The man with the hollow eyes pulled my body across the floor. My bare skin made a screeching sound against the wood, burning red marks into my flesh. He tossed me against the ballroom wall, and I landed with a thud next to the others.

  Blood dripped from my nose. Every breath burned something fierce as I scooted to a sitting position. A hand curled around my wrist. I dared a glance to my left. Tears rolled down the cheeks of the waitress. Her red flapper girl costume bore a shiny contrast to her pale skin. I linked our fingers together, squeezing tight. I didn’t know her well. But in the moment, our skin seared together in solidarity.

  I glanced at the others next to me: the waitress; the man in the bartender costume; the live-in house staff—Brenda, Elmore, and Virginia; and the family—Javier and Delsey Hawthorn. Eight people. Eight hostages. Three with frail bones and weak hearts. Any of them could die just from the fear alone.

  The man in the blue mask came over to us, pulling a handful of zip ties from a black pouch attached to the wide belt around his waist. Next to it dangled a sheath holding a long knife. If he ran out of bullets, the man could just cut us up. I pushed back the thought and focused on details, identifying details. Maybe they were hunters. Not that it made much difference in this area of the country. Half the population had hunting equipment. That told me nothing.

  “Listen up. If y’all cooperate, this night might end good for you. I want everyone to hand over their cell phones.”

  The intruders started with Elmore, the butler, on the far left end from me. He shook his head when asked for the phone as a thick cough came from his lungs.

  “Come on, gramps. Speed it up.”

  I knew many things about the people in the room after all my months of employment. And I knew for certain that man didn’t even own a phone, let alone hide it somewhere in his tuxedo pocket.

  Blue Mask paced around a bit, growing agitated as he watched the butler fail to produce a phone. And then he lost his patience, ramming the butt of his gun into the temple of the old man.

  Bam.

  The sound echoed in the room. I jumped and the waitress let out a muffled scream. Elmore’s head fell forward and a trickle of blood went down his cheek. Virginia, the housekeeper, whimpered silent tears, pulling his limp body toward her. The butler’s glasses slipped from his nose to the floor. The man in the blue mask took a single step, crushing the lenses with the heel of his boot.

  My heart beat heavy in my chest. I tried to remain calm while everything inside screamed. They hurt an old man! They hurt the one person who posed little to no physical threat.

  “What the fuck? Have you lost your damn mind?” The bulky man in the gray mask charged over toward Blue Mask. His fist clenched and I thought for a moment this guy might hit the man who appeared to be the leader.

  “Don’t be a pussy. He’s still alive. Now get the hell out of my face and search the old man.” He glared at his partner before turning his attention back to us. “Hand over your fuckin’ cell phones. Now!”

  The music continued to play over the sound system, teasing us with the upbeat tunes. A drop of blood fell from my nose and landed in a red spot on the beautiful yellow fabric of my dress. I couldn’t return it now. I would have to buy it. Those crazy thoughts muddled in with the horror in front of me.

  They wanted phones. Panic clutched my stomach. I didn’t know what to do. Just like the butler, I didn’t have one on me, either. I tried to think fast. Would they believe me? Trust my word?

  I let out an uneasy breath, trying to find some level of calm. The waitress kept a death grip on my hand as we all waited to see what would happen next. I’d never been more scared in my entire life.

  Early Summer

  I’D NEVER BEEN MORE EXCITED in my entire life. This was it. My big break. The one I knew would change my future forever. After my interview, I left the Hawthorn estate and parked on a side street outside the gates. I couldn’t hold the feelings inside one more minute.

  “You did it! Oh my gosh, you got the job!” I squealed while ripping off the stifling dress jacket. The exhilaration of victory coursed through my veins. “You’re finally leaving.”

  And then I winced, hearing my own voice out loud while alone in the car. It bothered me when I accidentally talked to myself. I grabbed my phone and called my brother. As I waited for him to answer, I changed out of my fake Louboutins and back into the scuffed ballet flats.

  Tyson picked up right before the ringing went to voicemail. “Hey, Sarina.”

  “I got the job!” I yelled.

  “No shit. For real? They already told you?”

  “Yes!” My voice tipped a little higher. “And you won’t believe the house. It’s insane. Like a hotel or something. And the job. It’s like everything I hoped it would be. Mrs. Hawthorn is going to let me run everything, but she might be a little crazy.”

  Ty laughed. “Well, I guess that shouldn’t be a problem. We Atwoods handle crazy pretty damn good.”

  With his words, the inevitable sadness of reality dampened the moment. I swallowed back the emotions. I wasn’t going to let the ghosts of our life ruin today. I forced a smile and continued with celebrating. “And there’s more. I get a bonus after her big fundraiser. She’s giving me a paid vacation to Turks and Caicos. And I get to take a guest!”

  “Where’s that?”

  “It’s an island in the Caribbean. Oh my gosh! I’m going to the middle of the ocean.”

  The wistfulness overtook my thoughts as images of crystal-blue waters and white sandy beaches danced through my head. Sunshine and palm trees. I’d never seen one in person.

  “You’d fly there?”

  “Yeah.” I couldn’t stifle the laughter. “I’d fly there, dumbass.”

  “Jerk.”

  “Well, this jerk owes you big time for letting me take this job. You have to be my guest. Yes! You have to come with me. Hang out at the beach. Go fishing in the ocean. Maybe meet a sexy island girl. Oh, I could totally be your wingman. This will be so awesome.”

  “That all sounds great. Well, minus the part where my sister tries to find me a hookup. That’s fucking gross, Sarina.” His fake gagging echoed through the phone. “But I don’t think we both should be gone from town at the same time. Besides, by then you’ll be wanting to take someone else to your fancy island. I’m sure you and Cole—”

  “Stop that.” I cut him off. “Don’t smear shit all over my sunshine. I’m not speaking his name today. I’m not even thinking it. And don’t you dare say it again. He’s like some demon. Speak that name
enough, and he’ll just appear.”

  “Now he’s a demon?” Tyson let out a long breath. “Fine. But we’re gonna talk about it later.”

  “Nope. Not happening.”

  I heard a muffled curse. “Are you on your way home now? I have to get back to work.”

  “Well, I need to make a stop at the library first. Use their computer. I promise not to stay longer than thirty minutes.” And then I felt it. The worry, burrowing with little jabs in my stomach.

  Our family required so much attention these days. How would Tyson do this without me? The responsibilities. The schedules. We already had a conflict just on my one day here. Maybe this job wasn’t a good idea. Maybe I shouldn’t leave them. The words alone left a stain of disappointment in my heart.

  “I can hear that shit, Sarina.”

  “What shit?”

  “I know where your mind’s going. You’re not quitting before you even start. I can handle everything. You’ve already sacrificed things. It’s my turn.”

  “Tyson—”

  “Do you want this job?” His voice slipped into a serious deep tone much like Granddaddy’s. I was older than my brother by three years. Sometimes in my mind, he was still a little boy with freckles—yet now he was a man giving me a lecture.

  I swallowed hard. “Yes. More than anything.”

  “Is it a good job?”

  “Yes.” I nodded. “A once-in-a-lifetime opportunity.”

  “Then stop arguing with me. Go get your shit done at the library so you can come home and we can discuss this fucking insanity you have going on with Cole.”

  “Shh!” I hissed. “Don’t say it again.”

  “Sarina.”

  I hung up.

  Then I felt guilty. I quickly hit the autodial number to call my brother back. The phone rang twice before he answered. “Hey, baby.”

  What the hell?

  The wrong voice. It wasn’t Tyson on the other end. Like a demon gremlin, Jeremiah Cole had appeared out of thin air. Well, technically in my anger I’d probably pushed the wrong autodial button. But it didn’t change the facts. Cole had managed to find a way to ruin today—just like he’d promised.

  “Sarina, are you there?” The familiar husky voice spoke again.

  I hung up without saying a word and then deleted his number from my phone. Something I should have done a long time ago. Goodbye, Jeremiah Cole. One of the perks of moving to the Hawthorn estate: I would never have to see my brother’s best friend again.

  The five-story city library sat in the center of downtown with the Hawthorn name etched on the side. I’d spent many hours using the public computers for internet access with a printer—something that would have been an extra expense at our home. Besides, Granddaddy and Grams were not comfortable with the idea of having the internet in the house. Tyson and I got by without it, which had become a little more difficult a few months ago.

  My phone didn’t have a data package anymore. A luxury that I’d been forced to give up when the hotel stopped providing me an iPhone. They said my position no longer required the use of it. I made due these days with a no-name flip phone with only calling and texting. All of those fancy little extra perks added up each month and I didn’t need the additional expenses.

  Over the years, the library had become my outlet to the rest of the world. I’d spent a few hours every week inside the little haven. I loved the smell of books—their scent of physical paper mixed with the enticing, hidden adventure in their pages. And I often used the free internet, fascinated by the allure of exotic places. It was amazing what you could see through a computer screen. A person could learn information on just about anything or anyone.

  I sat down at a workstation in the far corner of the first-floor lobby and logged into the public computer. My fingers flew over the keyboard as I conducted a little research on my new employer. I knew enough about the Hawthorn family for the purposes of the interview. But I thought it best to gather as much information on the personal side, considering I would be living at the estate. Maybe learning some of the dynamics of the family ahead of time would keep me from being blindsided. I needed to do everything in my power to make this job work.

  I scanned page after page, memorizing the information. Theodore Wayne (TW) and Delsey Hawthorn had raised three children. Ted Jr. worked as CEO of the company and had never married. It seemed his life was devoted to continuing the legacy of Hawk’s Landing Industries. Their daughter Katherine married a man named Bradford Cunningham from Virginia, and they had two young girls, Zoey and Ava. I didn’t find any noteworthy facts. She seemed to live a relatively quiet life in another state.

  And then there was Drew Hawthorn. I found a scattering of articles about him in the early years, but then he seemed to slip away out of view. In the funeral announcement for TW Hawthorn, there was a casual mention of a coffee plantation in Colombia and three children: Javier, Grace, and Sophia.

  The rest of the internet searches didn’t amount to much. I never found the plantation or anything personal pertaining to Javier except for his name being listed as a graduate of the local university five years ago, followed by a small announcement of him joining Hawk’s Landing. He held no social media accounts or at least none under his given name.

  It wasn’t much information, leaving me still curious about the man. Okay, maybe I was fascinated by his presence in the house, his history, his ties to the family, his interests. The intrigue left me with many questions as well as feeling ridiculous. I’d technically just internet stalked my boss’s grandson.

  Grams had always called the internet “the devil’s phone to the world.” She said it made people inhuman. They relied on computers instead of their own eyes and ears to get to know and understand a person. Anyone can be anything when you can’t see or hear them. Grams felt something that deceptive could only be the work of the devil.

  I’d always disagreed to an extent. Computers made it safer to learn facts about someone while not giving away your interest in that person’s life. What they didn’t know wouldn’t hurt them, but could potentially benefit you. I guess it sounded good in theory, but also a little bit like the justification of being a stalker.

  I let out a deep sigh and shook my head in assurance. There was nothing wrong with learning more about the Hawthorns or being curious about Javier.

  Early Summer

  MOVE-IN DAY CAME FASTER THAN I’d expected. I arrived with only two suitcases full of clothes and a large plastic container of shoes. The bedroom would be fully furnished. When I pushed the intercom at the gate this time, I was told to take a left at the fork in the road and park in a separate garage at the end of the path. I pulled in between a minivan and a small truck, which made me laugh on the inside as I thought back to my last visit.

  Leaving my belongings in the car for now, I made my way up the front steps of the house. I lived here now. I sucked in a deep breath and let it out. The truth had yet to sink in as reality. I pushed the bell, hearing the loud echo disappear into the depths of the mansion.

  Smoothing a quick hand over my blonde hair, I made sure all the strands were secure in the professional bun on the back of my head. I wore a Ralph Lauren sleeveless navy dress that stopped just above my knee—a prize-winning thrift store purchase that still bore the original store tags. I hoped the outfit seemed both casual for my move-in yet portrayed a little sophisticated polish.

  The handle shook as Elmore once again opened the front door. “Good afternoon, Ms. Atwood.”

  “Hello.” I smiled at the man who always seemed to project a slight frown in my direction. I wasn’t sure if he didn’t like me or if the years had morphed his face into this permanent scowl.

  “Please use the back entrance of the house in the future. You are no longer a guest. No need to make me answer the door.”

  “Of course.” I nodded in agreement.

  I heard several sets of footsteps on the hardwood as two women joined the butler in the entryway. They all lined up side by side in
a single formal row. Mrs. Hawthorn followed in behind them. She wore a formal dress suit in pale green with an emerald pin on the collar. Maybe the woman had attended church this morning and never changed. Or maybe this was her normal weekend attire. She didn’t seem the type to lounge in jeans and a T-shirt.

  “Ms. Atwood, welcome to my home.”

  I smiled as the butterflies made excited dips in my stomach. “Thank you for having me.”

  “Yes. Well, let me officially introduce you to everyone. Brenda Van Horn.” She motioned to the middle-aged woman on the end with graying black curls cropped closely to her head. She wore an all-white starched outfit covered by an apron. “Ms. Van Horn is our cook. Your room will be next to hers.”

  “Nice to meet you.” Her whole face lit up as she gave me a wide, friendly smile. I felt a joyful aura coming from the woman.

  I had a friend here. I knew it without hearing another word. It’s funny how that worked with certain people. Some gave off the distinct essence of sleaze, repelling everything within breathing distance, while another person could pull you in with the natural sweet scent of sugar and spice. Their kind hearts broadcasted out as an invisible force field. In the case of Brenda, I assumed she really did smell of desserts, considering she was the cook.

  Mrs. Hawthorn moved to the lady in a pale-blue dress standing next to Elmore. The woman tried to tip her chin up in an effort to stand straight, but her back remained slightly hunched. “This is Virginia Kerns. She’s the head housekeeper.”

  I covered my shock with a quick smile. I wasn’t sure this woman could make it up the stairs, let alone dust them.

  “Hello, dear.” Virginia held out a frail hand in my direction. I took it gingerly, feeling the thinness of her warm skin. She held on for a moment. Not in a handshake exactly. She clasped my fingers the way a grandmother would hold a hand in the place of a hug.