Page 4 of Keep Me

“I’ll let you fuck my ass,” she blurts out, and to that I do finally lift my head.

I pinch the bridge of my nose, shaking my head. I take out my wallet, looking her up and down and scoff at her pathetic desperation, throwing hundreds across the desk. “For your dress.”

My attention is already back on my phone before she even reaches the door, the sound of it shutting behind her like a breath of fresh air.

1. Squeeze by Ghostmane

Chapter 3

Sins of the Father

Reggie

I untwirl the towel from my wet hair and use it to wipe the steam off the mirror. 1 Twisting around, I look at the ink winding into the shape of a rose on the back of my shoulder. The music playing through my phone’s speakers fades away as I brush my fingertips over the tattoo, an uneasy pit hollowing out my stomach.

A rose, rays of light emanating from an eye in the center, two tears spilling. Three number fours trim the bottom. The sign of the Cortez cartel.

The only difference between the dead girls’ tattoos and mine are the initials hidden in the petals. Added two years ago, when I graduated med school, the letters are crisper and darker than the rest: S.A.

I remember the pride that seemed to hum in the air with the buzz of the tattoo machine when I got the rose. Elation, excitement. I could hardly feel the sting of the needles. I’d always been a Cortez, but now I was committing myself to my family’s legacy with this oath on my skin.

I guess oaths are only wishful promises made with good intentions until fate decides to laugh in your face.

The institute is empty on Saturday mornings, and for the first time since I started working here, I find the solitude eerie rather than comfortable.

Come on, Matthew. Pick up. I chew on the corner of my nail as I wait, not sure what answer I am hoping for.

“Dr. Cohen,” he answers, and I bounce forward in my chair.

“Matthew, hey. It’s Reggie.” I roll back over to the desk and open the folder of cases I’ve compiled.

“Reggie! Good to hear from you. What’s up?”

“I need a favor…”

“Sure, a drink to catch up sounds great. How’s tonight?” I can picture his mischievous smile on the other end of the line and laugh.

“Okay, fair. Let’s get drinks, but I still need that favor.” After graduating from med school together, I came to the institute for my residency while Matthew got in with the June Harbor Medical Examiner’s Office. I’m hoping he can give me some more information on the bodies. “The unclaimed Jane Doe your office sent us yesterday…What can you tell me about where she was discovered?”

He sighs. “You know I can’t tell you anything that pertains to an active investigation.”

“So you’re saying there is one?” I perk up, my heart racing. I want answers, but at the same time I’m not sure I will like what I find out if my father is in the center of it.

“I didn’t say that—wait, did you say yesterday?”

“Yeah. Caucasian, twenty to thirty years old, death by—”

“We haven’t had any unclaimed bodies for three months.” His words feed the growing seed of suspicion in my stomach, its roots twisting around my intestines. “Are you sure it wasn’t a different county?”

I read and reread the donation documentation. I’m right. “Yes, positive.”

“Okay. Let me check our files.” I hear him clack away on a keyboard and the silence makes room for my worst thoughts to spiral. My father’s a murdering, drug-dealing, ruthless son of a bitch, but killing women for sport…the wastebasket across the room is suddenly looking like a great place to upheave my breakfast.

“No, sorry, Reg. Our last donation was in February.” Three months ago.

I scroll through our logs to find the one he’s talking about. Delivered by Mortuary Shipping and Solutions. It quickly stands out to me as I scroll through the records that since then, all of our donations have been dropped off by a different company.

“This one was by DS Mortuary Transports,” I say.

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