That leaves me. “I’ll take the hallway.”
I grab Autumn’s shoulders and kiss her quickly.
“I’ve got this.”
She stands taller, shoulders back, nodding.
God, I hope her acting skills are up to par.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Autumn
* * *
This is by far the scariest thing I’ve ever done in my life. But it’s necessary. I need to be brave and lure Frank into the house. Act normal.
Mace turns on the television and nods toward the couch.
I hurry over and sit as he selects the rerun of a sitcom before handing me the remote. “The volume is muted. He’ll think you did that before you headed to the door.”
I nod. “I’ve got this. Promise.”
Galloway drops the blinds. “He’s here.” He rushes toward the pantry.
Mace gives me one more kiss and heads for the hallway. Ghost and Bryant are already outside.
Taking deep breaths, I try to control my nerves. It’s not possible, of course. I’m shaking badly, but I need to pull my shit together before I answer the door.
Frank is going to knock any second. I’ve already heard his car door close.
More deep breathing. This man killed my father. He’s volatile.
I jump when he raps his knuckles against the wood. Even though I knew the noise was coming, I still flinch. There wasn’t time for anyone to give me many instructions on how to manage this, so I’m winging it. But I can do this. If not for me, for Addison. She’s in the safe room of this house, hiding from this man who threatened her.
I know her entire story now. I’ve been with her all morning. She didn’t simply file for divorce and walk away. This asshole hit her. He slammed her against a wall, cut off her airway, and repeatedly struck her head so many times she had a concussion. It wasn’t until he got drunk and passed out that she escaped. She’s been in hiding ever since.
Somehow, I manage to find the inner strength to move toward the door. I look through the peephole first and then peek out the window through the blinds. If he’s facing this direction, he’ll see me being rationally cautious. It fits with my story.
Finally, I pull the door open. “Frank? Oh my God. What are you doing here?” I lean outside, pretend to look around, as if making sure no one can see him, and then grab his forearm and yank him into the house, shutting the door in seconds.
“I was worried about you,” he lies before pulling me into his arms and hugging me tight against his chest. “I heard about your father. I’m so sorry.”
I hold my breath, not wanting to carry on this ridiculous farce, but I must. “Thank you for coming,” I murmur.
He finally releases me and leans back a few inches. “Whose house is this, Autumn? Why are you not at home? I’ve stopped by so many times, and you weren’t there.”
“Do you know the circumstances of my father’s death?” I tip my head to one side and frown slightly, praying I look appropriately confused.
His eyes widen, and he shakes his head. “No. I only heard of his passing.”
This is also a lie. He’s never heard a word about my father’s death. No one has.
“I think someone murdered him,” I say softly.
Frank gasps. “What? Why would anyone want him dead?”
I shrug. “I don’t know, but I was scared. I panicked and left the house. I was afraid if someone murdered him, they might come back for me, or maybe they were still in the house when I found him.”