The Truth of a Liar Read online

  Mr. Hawthorne clears his throat and wipes at his face with the back of his hand. “Holy shit, Son,” he curses and I inwardly cringe, scared to see how Lark will react. “How are you?”

  To my surprise, Lark laughs and sits down next to me. He instantly grabs my hand and kisses the back of it. “I’m good, Sir.” He looks at me, his eyes shining.

  I feel like this might have been one of those pivotal moments in our lives. In Lark’s life, and I’m so lucky to be able to witness it.

  “Who is this pretty little thing?” Mr. Hawthorne asks, assessing me with youthful eyes.

  “I’m Rowan,” I say, stretching across Lark’s body to shake Mr. Hawthorne’s hand. “It’s nice to meet you, sir.”

  He blanches and I laugh, sitting back down. “None of that sir talk. Call me Carter.”

  “Okay, Carter,” I say. “It’s nice to meet you.”

  “Same to you, dear,” he says with respect.

  Lark’s phone rings in his pocket and he pulls it out, inspecting the name. He flashes the screen to me. LIAM, it reads. “Mind if I take this? It’s one of the guys.” Mila and Carter nod and Lark rises from the couch and steps out the back door and into the backyard. They both smile at me, and I fidget in my seat.

  “So Rowan, Lark tells us you went to school together,” Mila says, hoping to fill the silence.

  I cross my legs and sit back in the sofa. “We did.”

  “Do you live near here?” Carter asks.

  “Just off of Stella. My family has lived there my entire life.”

  Carter clasps his hands together, delighted. “Is that so? I’m thinking about taking the boat to the lake out there. We’d love to get together with you and your family if they’re up for it.”

  “Yeah?” I ask. This Carter Hawthorne is nothing like I’d imagined him to be. “I’ll have Lark get back to you but that sounds wonderful.”

  “When do you have to return to New York?” Mila questions.

  “We leave in six days,” I reply, sadly. I don’t know if I’m ready to go back to the city.

  Mila gets up from her chair and makes her way to me, patting my knee gently. “That’s far too soon if you ask me.”

  I laugh and agree. She leaves Carter and I alone and I look to him with weary apprehension. He may not seem as hard as Lark led me to believe, but to say I’m nervous would be putting it mildly.

  “Not what you were expecting?” Carter says.

  “I’m sorry?”

  “Me. I figure you were expecting the same asshole who raised Lark.”

  I look down, uncomfortable. What am I supposed to say to that?

  “It’s okay. I have a lot of making up to do. I’m just lucky Lark agreed to come here and see me.” His voice breaks at the end and I feel the overwhelming need to hug the broken man sitting in front of me.

  I lick my lips and offer a smile. “I’m glad to be here, Carter. I know Lark is too.”

  It’s not yet dark out and I can see Lark through the sliding glass door. His head jerks up and he speaks into the phone, his brows furrow with concern and he turns all the way around to look at me.

  He rushes inside, the glass door screeching as it slides shut. “Rowan,” he breathes. “We have to go now.”

  Carter stands and I do the same, my blood pulsing in my veins.

  “What is it, Son?”

  Lark’s face turns red and he walks to me, pulling my hand. “It’s your parents.” He gulps. “They were attacked.”

  “WE’LL FOLLOW BEHIND YOU, Son,” Dad says in a brisk tone behind me, walking in choppy steps. His keys jingle as he retrieves them from the hook in the foyer and I don’t have the time to argue with him. Mom’s heels follow closely behind us.

  “Little One, listen to me,” I warn, tugging on Rowan’s hand. “Liam didn’t get me exact details. All I know is someone broke into the house. Cindy and Greg could be fine, but I need you to understand what you might walk in to.”

  She nods but I see the panic as her eyes grow big and she grips my hand tighter. With stumbling feet, I whisk her into the car as fast as I can and drive at dangerous speeds to her the address Liam left for me. Every so often, I chance a peek in the rearview mirror. Dad and Mom follow close and I shake my head. Who would have thought today would turn out like this?

  Rowan grips my hand. I hold her tiny fingers in my firm vise, and trace patterns on the inside of her palm. It seems to calm her down and her posture slacks, but only a tiny bit. She turns away, staring out of the window. She watches as the tree-lined streets pass us by. She takes note of every stranger, looking back as we drive away. It’s almost as if she’s taking final inventory. Almost as if this will all look different once we find out what really happened to her parents.

  Her imminent fate surrounds us like a blanket of apprehension. It smothers us, cutting off optimism. But I take it. I let it suffocate us.

  Ten minutes and twenty-six seconds.

  The moment I shift the truck into park, Rowan and I bound into the eerie darkness. The lights from Dad’s truck provide us light, but we continue walking to the big stone building, our footsteps on the pavement ringing harsh in my ears. I pull Rowan back as she approaches the door and maneuver her behind me. There’s no looming threat inside, but shielding her feels like the best idea. Mom and Dad’s footsteps follow behind us, and Mom places her hand on Rowan’s shoulder in comfort.

  The glass door creaks open with an ominous screech, and we step through the threshold. We all stop just inside the room and look around wearily. The building is some kind of empty office. It probably hasn’t been used in months. A few empty desks are scattered around the room, along with a couple chairs thrown haphazardly around. The silence echoes in the quiet space and I turn toward Rowan. Her eyes are wild. She’s seconds away from blowing up. I place my hand on her shoulder, squeezing. With gentle care, I drag my hand down her arm and grip hers tight.

  “Liam?” I say with a note of apprehension, pulling Rowan down the hallway to the back. I look at Rowan and she bites her lip, her eyes telling me everything she can’t. She’s scared.

  I wonder if I look troubled.

  When we round the corner, we find Chris sitting at a table in the middle of a room, his hands buried in his hair. He must hear us shuffle in because he stands the moment he sees Rowan.

  “Rowan,” he says, looking straight in her eyes. “They’re in the next room. They’re okay.” His eyes aren’t panicked, but he looks unnerved. Like, he feels responsible. I narrow my eyes, wondering.

  Rowan audibly breathes a sigh of relief, squeezes my arm and runs out of the room, my parents following close behind her. I decide to give them some time and sit at the table with Chris.

  “Details?” I ask.

  Chris shakes his head. “No clue. We came in house and found Greg and Cindy tied up in the kitchen. Hands and feet bound to the chairs.”

  I force myself not to let the information affect me, but it does. It’s not supposed to, but dammit, it sets me on edge. “Do we know who did it?”

  Chris nods, shuffling papers in front of him. “Logan got information about five minutes ago and sent it over. Davis Peterson.” He hands me a manila folder with Davis’s information. “He’s the head of a human trafficking group in upstate New York right near the boarder and he’s a nasty son of a bitch. Been in jail more times than I can count.”

  I flip through the pages and stop on a page with his latest mug shot. He’s got dark black hair and even blacker eyes. His grimace could scare monsters. He is a monster. “Christ,” I say, looking over his recent charges. I feel the need to throw up. “And he’s the one targeting Rowan?”

  Chris licks his lips and gives me a pointed look. “Logan believes so.”

  Motherf…

  I shake my head and take a deep breath. “Why didn’t Logan call me?” I ask.

  He shrugs. “Liam took care of it and you were already on the way. We wanted to let you know the situation before we told Rowan. And telling you in the c
ar would only spur Rowan to ask questions you weren’t really supposed to divulge yet.”

  My nose twitches. “So, what’s the plan?”

  He motions to the door with his head and stands. I follow him out. My mom, dad, Greg, Cindy, and Liam are sitting down on at a long table in what seems to be a conference room. Liam lifts his eyebrows, but his eyes remain downcast. Mom grabs my arm when I pass by her and Dad gives me an encouraging smile. Greg and Cindy are sitting at the head of the table, looking utterly tired. Greg’s arm is around Cindy’s shoulders and her eyes are red from crying, black mascara running down her cheeks. Greg’s head is down and he’s talking in a low tone that I can’t make out. I tilt my head and walk to them with empathetic eyes. “I’m so sorry,” I say, grabbing Cindy’s hand. Kneeling down, I look to both of them. “Are you both okay?”

  That’s a stupid question but I need to hear the answer for myself.

  A shudder escapes Cindy’s body and she nods. “Oh, honey, I’m okay.” Her smile is genuine and the ever-present sparkle is still there.

  Greg touches my shoulder. “I’m fine, son. Don’t worry about us.”

  I breathe deep through my nose and rise to my feet. I take a couple steps to Rowan and sit in the empty seat next to her.

  My dad clears his throat and looks to the Townsends. “Greg, can I ask what happened?”

  They must have exchanged pleasantries before I got out here. They’re fairly comfortable with each other. There’s something to be said about fear bringing people together. It’s secluding and terrifying in the moment, but it brings support unlike anything I’ve ever experienced before. Fear is a magical factor in an odd way.

  Greg takes his arm away from Cindy and sits forward with his elbows resting on the table. All of us move inward with him, hoping to hear him well. “We don’t know much. They ambushed the house.”

  I stop him. “They? There was more than one?”

  Greg gulps. “Three, actually. They had masks on, but I saw a tattoo on one of the men. I figure that’s how they identified him.”

  “You told them?” I ask, looking to Liam, confused. I thought we weren’t telling them anything until we could answer all of the questions.

  “I did. Well, what I could, at least.”

  I turn back to Greg. “Go ahead, sir.”

  He laces his fingers together. “They came in through the front door. We never lock it.” He stops and mutters under his breath, “We should have, dammit.” Then looks to us, again. “One man grabbed me and another grabbed Cindy. They pulled us downstairs and tied us to the chairs. After they were done looking through the house, they came to the kitchen and screamed questions at us. All about Rowan.” He looks to Rowan with an apologetic expression. “Thankfully, it just looked like we had company. There’s nowhere in the house that would suggest she was here.”

  “What?” Rowan clears her throat. “What did you tell them? What did they ask?” Her voice is small and raspy.

  “They wanted to know if you were here. When you would be coming to visit. They wanted to know why you stopped using your debit cards.”

  Rowan’s eyes move to me in a rapid jerk and I nod. “That’s why we’ve been using cash. These guys are more than just deplorable human beings. They can hack anything. I figured they’d be watching your every move.”

  Greg hmm’s. “They must have just got there. They didn’t mention anything about you boys.” He points to Liam and myself. “I’m betting they’re here somewhere, I don’t expect them to leave.”

  Liam speaks in a clear, controlled voice. “We’ve contained the area. They aren’t anywhere around the house at the moment. Logan is sending another team to stay for a few days until it dies down here.”

  “Where’s Evan?” I ask.

  Liam points behind us. “I just radioed and sent him and Chris out to keep watch at the house.”

  “What’s the plan, then? Once they realize we’re here, we’ll be screwed,” I ask, growing more worried by the minute. We’re sitting ducks.

  When I look over, Liam’s got his hand on his phone, punching the numbers. “Logan has instructions.” He raises the phone to his ear and waits a few seconds before someone answers. “Hunter, here. Orders?” he says into the receiver. His eyebrows knit together and then his eyes shoot to me. “He wants to talk to you, mate.”

  Liam hands me the phone and I look at Rowan as I speak. “Hawthorne.”

  “Hawthorne,” Logan greets in a somber tone. “We’re relocating you.”

  “Relocating? Where to, sir?”

  He sighs. “We are still working out the details.” Someone says something to him in the background, causing Logan to put me on hold. When he returns, he sighs again. “We are going to go off the books, here. Senior Master Sargent Hawthorne is your father, correct?”

  I stutter and my eyes look to my dad, unsure as to why Logan would ask. Dad retired from the Air Force after twenty-seven years. The amount of deployments under his belt far outweighs my own. The man has so many honor ribbons; a good half of the left side of his uniform is peppered with colorful achievements. “Yes, sir.”

  Logan laughs one curt laugh. “Let me speak to him.”

  I blink a few times, confused. “Uh, dad?” I say, offering the phone to him. “Assistant Director Logan would like to talk to you.”

  Dad’s eyes squint for the briefest moment, then as if a light goes off in his brain and a sly smile appears on his face. “Peter Logan?” he greets and waits for Logan to answer. Dad laughs and slaps his knee, unbelieving. “Shit, Logan. It’s been years.” He laughs and mom smiles.

  Rowan looks over at me and I shrug my shoulders. Her eyes continue to have a look of panic, but the shadow of a smile threatens to spill from her lips. This is the first time since we got the phone call that my heart is beating at a regular speed. I’m sure she’s feeling what I am. Relief. Dad was one of the biggest assets the Air Force had ever seen. And, let me tell you, Military Police are no joke. He and Logan must have worked together at one time. Small world.

  “What can I help you with?” Dad inquires, shaking his head. He listens to Logan with extreme care. His eyes move back and forth and I know he’s taking mental notes of every single word. I’ve seen that look countless times over the years and I know he’s in military mode. “We do,” he says. “It’s about an hour outside of Nashville. Far off the road. Very secluded.” His head tilts. “No. It’s under my wife’s maiden name.”

  My mom’s maiden name? I bite my lip and narrow my eyes, and Rowan sets her hand on my nervous bouncing knee.

  “I can do that,” Dad continues. “Yes, sir. I’ll have Lark call you the moment they arrive.” He looks to me, his mouth turned down, and shakes his head, letting me know it’s okay and not to worry. I squeeze Rowan’s hand. “You have an aerial view of the land?” He nods, listening to Logan. “Affirmative. Security system is activated and ready to go. I’ll make sure and call the security company and let them know if the alarm goes off at all, to call the police.”

  All of the clues snap together and I gulp.

  “Certainly, Logan.” Dad smiles, his youth glowing on his face. “It was good to talk to you, again. We’ll leave within the hour.” Dad hands the phone back to Liam and we stand together. Greg and Cindy stay seated, wide-eyed and ready.

  Dad stands as well, rubbing his hands down his slacks. “You’re going to the cabin in Tennessee.” Dozens of childhood memories stream my mind and I shake them away. “Not many people know it’s there. We haven’t been in years. Right now, son, it’s the safest place for you and Rowan.”

  I figured as much. That’s the only thing that would be in mom’s name. She bought it the year she began residency at the hospital. Mom and Dad weren’t married yet. It’s the only thing that doesn’t connect her to the Hawthorne’s. I nod and move my hand to Rowan’s back, rubbing reassuringly. “Okay.” I fully turn to Rowan. “You okay with this?” My eyes let her know she has a voice if she isn’t comfortable with it.

&nbs
p; With glossy eyes and a trembling chin, she looks down, almost sad. “What about the show? I’m supposed to be back next week.”

  My nose wrinkles and I grab her hand. “We’ll call Andrew, Little One. He’ll understand. The entire cast will. I know not being on stage will hurt.” I rub comforting circles on the top of her hand with my thumb. I can see the pain in her eyes. She feels like she’s letting the show down. “But we have to keep you safe until Davis and his group are caught.”

  Rowan breathes in deep and closes her piercing eyes. When her lids flutter open, they’re clear, acceptance etching her face. “Okay, then.”

  I nod, my heart bursting for this strong woman. “You stay here with Liam, and I’ll get us packed,” I say, turning on my heel heading toward the exit.

  “I’ll drive you, son,” Dad says, stopping me. “I’ll drop you off and take your mom home. Logan thought it best to go in a non-government vehicle.”

  That makes sense. “Yes, sir.”

  Dad’s eyes turn gentle and he gives me a squeeze on my lower arm. “You’ll protect her. Have faith.”

  I swallow the ever-growing lump in my throat. I’m not used to the man standing in front of me. He’s someone I’ve never known; yet he wears my father’s face. I jut my chin out and try my best to appear unafraid, smiling and walk inside knowing this may be the biggest move on the chessboard of our lives. We’re all just a bunch of game pieces waiting to be repositioned and I hope the man who’s playing the game has the ability to make the correct moves.

  LARK’S DAD ARRIVES BACK AT the office building about thirty minutes later and before I know what’s happening, we’re driving down the freeway, leaving Springsmallow in the dust. The cold night air wisps my hair around my face and I have the odd sensation of déjà vu, recalling my dream a few days ago. A shiver runs through my body and I have to take a deep breath.

  Lark’s arm reaches around from the front seat as if he knows and squeezes my calf. He rubs it comfortingly and my heart rate begins to chill out.