K? You’ll get your boy? The deal?
I nearly fainted as I realized what was happening here.
Kate knew me...
But I didn’t know her at all.
13
Penn
“Penn, please come to my office.” Dad had used the ranch-wide intercom, which no one ever used. He hadn’t needed to, because I was only in my room, fresh out of the shower, trying to spiff up a little for Anne.
But the fact that he had used it at all was alarming.
I walked briskly from my wing to his and entered his office without knocking, which was just one more thing that almost never happened in the Hardick household. When Dad was in his office, you knocked. Period.
The worry on his face immediately made me forget about the damn door.
“What?” My heart was beating incredibly fast.
Something bad. It’s something bad.
“I have some information back from the P.I. You’ll want to sit down.” He nodded toward the chairs, and I instantly sat.
“You have info back already? It hasn’t even been twenty-four hours yet.” It didn’t quite seem possible.
“That money that you’re so embarrassed of, Penn? It gets results. You might want to consider that the next time you think of the Hardick estate with loathing.” Dad’s words were severe, but his tone wasn’t.
Something else was more important.
“Foster care records take a little bit to crack, as they’re not supposed to be cracked at all. But police records. Piece of cake.” Dad pushed a small manilla envelope toward me.
Police records.
I grabbed the folder and tore through it. One, two, three reports of domestic abuse and a restraining order filed for, but then retracted by the filer, Miss Valerie Anne Johnson.
“Valerie?” I said the name out loud, shaking my head. “This has to be someone else, Dad. Why would your guy assume this was Anne? There’s gotta be like a bajillion Anne Johnson’s in Tennessee alone.”
“Do you think there are a ‘bajillion’ Anne Johnson’s with a history of experiencing domestic assault in Tennessee who also have a son named Murphy?” Dad slid another document toward me.
Murphy’s birth certificate. The year was right, though I’d never known his last name was “Fisher”. I scanned it over, finding that his father was listed as Randall Fisher.
Randall was the accused abuser on the police forms as well.
“Okay. Okay so this is her. She’s just going by her middle name. She probably wanted to start over. Christ, I can’t imagine what she went thr –”
“This.” Dad slid another official document toward me. Randall Fisher’s certificate of death. Accidental.
Clipped to it were newspaper articles from late last winter, detailing the demise of Randall, who had apparently fallen into a deep gorge off the trails of the Great Smokies. The second article announced that the investigation was over, and Valerie Johnson was no longer considered a suspect.
They thought she killed him? Did she kill him?
“Now this.” Two more police reports, but this time for missing persons. Valerie Johnson and Murphy Fisher, filed by Timothy Fisher.
“Who’s Timothy Fisher?” My voice was flat.
“Randall’s brother.”
“He’s looking for her.”
“Well,” Dad leaned forward, his concern seeming to grow with each passing second. “He was. In February. Nothing since.”
“You think she’s running from him?” I stared at his mugshot, which spoke volumes about the type of guy Mr. Timothy Fisher was. Mean. Cold. Angry.
“I do.”
I met my dad’s gaze. “Do you think she killed Murphy’s dad?”
“Honestly, Penn, I wouldn’t have blamed her if she did. But no, I don’t believe that. Her guilt would have been proven easily enough. I believe she tried to escape, and something went wrong. For Randall.” Dad’s eyes narrowed then. “However, I do believe that Timothy Fisher is convinced she killed his brother. And I also believe, based on his lengthy record, that he isn’t the type of man who could calmly sort that out.”
“He’s hunting her down for revenge.” I’d momentarily stopped breathing altogether.
This was who and what Anne – or Valerie – was scared of. This skeezy looking son of a bitch.
“We’re supposed to meet tonight. She wanted to tell me... things. I guess probably some of these things.” I looked at all of the papers in disbelief.
“That’s fine, Penn. But if there’s a vengeance crazed criminal searching for her, she’s not safe. And by proxy, neither are you when you’re with her. I will be stationing a bodyguard outside of the supply store. And I will not take no for an answer. Do you understand me?” My father had grown incredibly stern now, and waited patiently for my response.
“I’m not gonna push back against that, Dad. Not if she’s still in danger from this jackoff.” I couldn’t stop staring at Timothy Fisher’s face.
“Penn.” Even now, he wouldn’t accept the language.
Unbelievable.
“Sorry. Jerk. Better? Is there anything we can do about him?” I wanted the motherfucker behind bars. Yesterday.
“Oh, Penn. There are many things we could do about him,” Dad assured me. Something about his tone was alarming. It was the first time I’d ever heard my father sound... dark. “But first, you should talk to Anne about him. She may have actual legitimate charges to press against him.”
“And if she doesn’t?” I stared at my father hard.
He looked back at me calmly. “Then we’ll take care of the situation a different way.”
I knew what his words were possibly insinuating, but it seemed wise to leave them alone. For now.
“Okay. I need to go.” I stood, gathering all of the papers into one stack. “Thank you, for this.”
He nodded. “We’ll protect her like our own, Penn. I daresay someday she might be one of us anyway.”
My head whipped back at him when he said this, but there wasn’t time to respond.
I needed to get to Anne... Valerie? I needed to go see her now.
I nearly flew down the stairs and out the front door. My shitty truck was parked next to my family members’ sleek, shiny collection of ridiculousness. Before I could quite reach it, Preston emerged out of what seemed like fucking nowhere.
“Penn! Hold up!” He jogged towards me, which looked ridiculous as he was in his usual suit and tie.
“What do you want?” I still wasn’t past his little “conversation” faux pas.
“I was just gonna say I’m sorry. I mean, I did call it like I saw it – I meant what I said to Anne. But I guess I didn’t have to say anything at all. I shouldn’t have. It wasn’t my place.” Pres searched my face for signs of forgiveness.
“I’ve got bigger worries right now, Preston. I need to go.” I started walking again.
“To see Anne?” He called after me.
Anne. Valerie. Someone.
“Yes!” I shouted back.
“Is everything okay?” Preston sounded genuinely worried, and Pres was never worried about anything.