Page 17 of A Thin Line

“I’m waiting.”

Ignoring him, I weighed my options. Ten years serving Sinclair Whittier, and then I’d be free—both in terms of my personal self and my finances. It seemed like the best offer I would ever get. “If I accept your proposal, I won’t be held liable for the damages here?”

“You have my word.”

I let out a long sigh and stood to face him. He towered over me, but I refused to let it scare me. Holding out my hand, I said, “I accept.”

He shook my hand, nearly crushing it. I could feel his power and his wrath through his grip, but I refused to let any of that show on my face. “We have a deal.”

And thus my fate was sealed.

Chapter 6

When I arrived home, my father was asleep in the recliner, the television still on. My heart felt ripped in two as I realized I wouldn’t get to nudge him from sleep again after tonight.

I had to keep it together. For my father’s sake if not my own.

What made it worse was Whittier had only given me an hour to pack my bags. He would be arriving here soon to pick me up and take me away from everything I’d ever known. Although I’d wanted nothing more than to leave Winchester, I had never wanted to leave my father behind, especially now when he needed me the most.

I looked around the tiny room as if to burn it into my memory. Not much had changed since my mother had left more than ten years ago—the afghans she’d crocheted thrown on the back of the sofa and my dad’s recliner, the doilies underneath the lamps on both end tables, the stone fireplace we rarely used anymore. The room had an earthy feel, thanks to the beige color scheme, but the shadows made it less noticeable. Tonight the ceiling fan blew at full force, shifting the warm air around enough to keep it more or less comfortable.

Kneeling beside my father’s chair, I gently rubbed his forearm. “Dad?” When he didn’t stir, I said it again, a little louder. “Dad?”

“Oh!” he said as he awoke. “I did it again.”

Forcing a smile, I said, “That’s okay.”

“Give me a minute to get out of the chair.”

“Actually, dad, I need to tell you something. Uh…would you like me to make some chamomile tea first?”

“What’s wrong?”

I never could hide my emotions from my father. It was probably one of the reasons we were so close. Ever since my mother had abandoned us, he’d been in tune with me, far more than she’d ever been.

As he sat up, he rubbed his forehead, pushing his gray hair to the side, immediately making me regret that I hadn’t trimmed it in a few weeks. His green eyes that mirrored my own assessed me. I said, “I don’t even know where to start.”

“From the beginning, of course.” Of course. That had always been something he liked to say.

So I did just that, summarizing as quickly as I could the events of the evening. The resolution of said events, however, I had to find a way to gently approach.

He said, “We’ll hire the best lawyer we can afford, princess. Those bastards.”

“Actually, dad…we came up with a solution. I—you’re not going to like it, but it’s the only way I can see to get out of this.”

“I don’t like the sounds of this.”

“I know.” I let out a long breath of air and took his hand in mine, giving it a gentle squeeze. “On the one hand, I could go to trial for several felony counts. I know they say the jury has to have an open mind, but I don’t see people here in Winchester giving me the benefit of the doubt, do you?”

His voice didn’t sound as confident as his words. “You might be surprised.”

“But on top of that, I would spend the rest of my life paying restitution for the damages—over a million dollars. I can’t even wrap my mind around that.”

“Sweetheart, we’ll sell everything. I’ve got money in my 401(k) that—”

Not nearly enough—and I wasn’t about to take what little money my father had. “No. That’s not what that’s for.”

“I don’t care.”

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