Chapter 40
HARPER
“Harps… Sis, are you still there?” I can hear the panic in Eli’s voice.
At least I’m at home for this phone call.
“I’m here,” I say, lowering the fist I’ve been pressing against my mouth to prevent… I really don’t know what.
I lean hard against the kitchen counter. The beans I’m heating hiss as they stick to the pan. I shove it to one side, my muscles going weak.
“Harps, talk to us. Shit, I knew this was a bad idea,” Elijah says. I know he’s speaking to Mum and Pen.
I stumble over to the sofa and drop onto it, resting my elbows on my knees.
“I’m okay, Eli,” I say, even though the crushing feeling in my chest tells me otherwise, because I can hear his growing panic.
Pull on your big girl pants, Harper Frazer. What would Dad say?
But that’s it. Dad’s not here. He hasn’t been for over seven years. A tragic accident, or so we thought. Now, as a coldness expands in my core and bile hits the back of my throat, we’re being told it wasn’t a tragic accident at all.
“Okay,” I admit, my voice quivering, “I’m not fine or okay. You’ve just called me and…said Dad’s accident wasn’t an accident. That someone murdered him, the same person who is after me, I take it?”
Goosebumps form all over my body, and I clamp my jaw shut to stop my teeth chattering.
“Harper, listen to me.” It’s Pen’s voice that breaks through the growing fog. “I need you to listen carefully. Can you do that?”
The way she talks is slow and steady, as if trying to coax a wounded or scared animal. Which, in some ways, I am.
“Yes, Pen,” I say. “I’m listening.”
I focus on the phone in my hand.
“Good. They’ve found more files. Your dad had them hidden. They may contain the missing pieces. A team is working around the clock to go through them. When they’re done, you can come home to us. Repeat what I just said.”
“Files, Dad hidden, missing pieces, around-the-clock team, coming home.”
“Good,” Pen says. “It just means you need to stay strong, at least for a while longer. Can you do that?”
I rub my breastbone. “Yes,” I tell her. “But Pen, why?”
“Why did they kill him?” she asks. “I think the files may be the key… H, I know it probably doesn’t seem like it, but this is a breakthrough,” Pen says, although I’m not sure who she’s trying to convince.
“You hear that, my darling? You’ll be able to come home,” Mum says, her voice catching.
“I do, Mum, and please don’t worry about me. I’m safe here. I have the team opposite and with fashion week coming up, St Clair is locked down like Fort Knox.”
“Harps,” Pen says again.
“Yes,” I say, releasing a shaky breath.
“If you have any issues or concerns, you pull the ripcord, you understand me?”
“I will, that I can promise you.”
“We’re here if you need to chat,” Elijah says. “Any time of day or night. We understand this is a lot to take in, and I’m sorry we had to tell you over the phone, but we didn’t want you finding out second-hand should there be a leak.”
“Thank you. I appreciate it.” Not that I’m paying much attention to the news back home. I need to live in the here and now, and that’s New York.
When the call ends, I sit staring at the phone in my hand.
Does knowing the truth make it any better? He was still out that night because of me…
* * *
Dad!
I jerk awake, a sharp pain lancing through my neck. The skin on my face feels stretched and my eyes are gritty from crying myself to sleep on the sofa.
My face crumples as I choke down another sob.
Shit, haven’t I shed enough tears?
Fresh tears begin to fall, and I wipe them away with the sleeve of my PJs.
Clearly not.
I fall back, goosebumps forming as my sweat-soaked skin dries in the early morning air.
I cover my eyes with my forearm, and my mind returns to my nightmare. Of sitting locked in a bathroom, waiting for Dad, waiting and waiting, but he never comes.
It wasn’t a tragic accident. He wasn’t in the wrong place at the wrong time, run off the road by a drunk driver, as was reported.
He was murdered.
My chest constricts, and my throat closes. It’s like that night all over again, only this time, Dad isn’t oblivious to what’s happening. He knows they’re there to kill him. He’s scared, hurting and alone.
I drop my head between my knees, closing my eyes and counting my inhales and exhales the way my psychologist taught me. Severe panic attacks were frequent in the early days.
It’s not your fault, Harper.
That’s what she kept saying, what they all kept saying.
But I know the truth.
I swallow against the pain clogging my throat.
I’ve tried so hard to put it behind me, but whatever I do, it comes back to haunt me, time and time again. They say time heals, but it’s a lie when you’re forced to live with the constant guilt of your actions.
For seven years, I’ve rebelled against the establishment and built barriers because it was easier than confronting the truth.
I killed our father.
Everyone was grieving because of me and my selfish desires. If I hadn’t gone out that night, gone against his wishes…
Elijah’s words echo in my head. “Dad didn’t die in an accident. He was murdered, Harper.”
I race to the bathroom, emptying the contents of my stomach into the toilet bowl.
Murdered.
Why did someone want my dad dead? Pen and Eli said that Kat and Jax had uncovered some files containing more evidence. Evidence Dad had gathered.
Did Dad know someone was trying to kill him? Is that why he warned me against going to the party? A warning I ignored?
I shiver, a numbness spreading through my limbs.
I call Kat, but it’s the middle of the night, and she doesn’t answer. So, I try the next best person.
“Pen,” I say, as the line connects, my voice raw.
“Harper? Honey, are you okay?”
“No,” I sob down the phone, my breath catching again, my throat closing.
“Hey, Harper, listen to me. You’re having a panic attack. I need you to take some deep breaths. Breathe in for four, out for four. Again.”
I close my eyes, listening to her voice as she repeats the instructions over and over until I’m breathing normally.
“Sorry,” I say.
“Never be sorry. You’ve been through a lot, and you’re away from us, your family.”
“I…”
I swipe at my cheeks, annoyed by the tears I can’t control.
“Talk to me,” she says, her tone soothing.
“If I hadn’t called him that night…” I don’t say the rest, knowing Pen can fill in the blanks. “He didn’t want me to go to the party, Pen. Do you think he knew what they were going to do?”
“You listen to me right now, Harper Brooke Frazer. Your father loved you. He loved all of you. You were his world. If they hadn’t got to him that night, they would have kept trying until they succeeded, irrespective of who was with him. Your father knew that. He made a choice.”
I draw my knees up to my chest and hug them, dropping my head.
“We need to make sure that all those responsible are caught and brought to justice. Do you understand me? That means you must stay under the radar. I’d bring you home tomorrow, but I’ve been overruled.”
“Overruled?”
“You met The Seamstress, I hear,” Pen says, and I can tell she’s not happy about it.
I remain silent.
“I’ll take your silence as a yes.” Pen sighs. “She used to be my boss. It’s a long story, one for another time, but she was also a close friend of your father’s.”
“She told me. I remember her.”
Pen makes a sound, one that I interpret as surprise.
“But she didn’t keep him safe,” I say, my tone sharpening.
“No, but she won’t make the same mistake again,” Pen says. “Your protection officers…”
“Mitch and Dan?”
Pen chuckles. “I should have guessed you’d be on first-name terms with them both.”
“I kind of didn’t give them much of a choice.”
She laughs, but there’s still an underlying edge. This is not the carefree Pen I’m used to.
“Harper, if there’s anything you can think of… They’ve found… Oh shit.”
“What, Pen? Tell me,” I say, squaring my shoulders for whatever is about to descend.
“When we found the files, there was evidence to suggest you may have been targeted all those years ago. Your dad was aware and was trying to protect you.”
I suck air into my lungs, but it lodges in my throat, the sound a half-cry.
“What do you mean?” It comes out as little more than a whisper.
“Pen, that’s enough.” I hear Elijah in the background.
“Eli, I’m not a child. Tell me, Pen.”
“There were letters, photographs… I’m sorry, Harper, I don’t… they were clearly threats.”
I close my eyes and hold my head.
Why Dad? Why weren’t you honest with me?
“Can you recall anything from that time? Was there anyone following you? Did you have a sixth sense that something was off?”
I shake my head, a vice-like pressure building in my chest.
“No,” I say when I remember she can’t see me.
“If that changes,” Pen says. “You’ve had a shock. Sometimes that can jolt suppressed memories loose. If you remember anything, call me, or hammer on Dan and Mitch’s door.”
“I can’t remember anything about that night,” I say, my panic rising. “It’s like I’ve blocked it out. Pen, if I hadn’t gone to that stupid party. If I’d only drunk it instead of giving it to Carolyn.”
“What do you mean? What drink?”
“Carolyn snatched it when I refused to drink it. It tasted like paint stripper. She drank it. It’s what made her sick. It’s why I called Dad.”
“Who gave you the drink, Harps?”
“I can’t remember… some guys.”
My memory goes back to my dream. I close my eyes, allowing it to resurface.
“No, I do. It was two friends of Jasper’s brother. They’d gatecrashed the party. Jasper was unhappy. I can remember him bitching to them about it.”
“Harper, you need to go across the hall and wake Mitch and Dan. I need you to tell them everything you can remember about that night. About the drink and the guys who gave it to you.”
“You don’t think Carolyn just had too much to drink?” I say. “It was an end-of-year party… everyone was drinking.”
“We can’t ignore anything, not now. Can you do what I ask?”
“Yes.”
“Call me later.”
“I will do.”
“Harps, we love you.”
“I love you too.”
Pen ends the call, and I grab my hoodie. I check that the hallway is empty before I step across.
Mitch opens their door after a single knock, takes one look at me and pulls me into their apartment.
“I need to talk to you both,” I say.