Page 67 of Unholy Bonds

I couldn’t imagine the boy, the one who was full of life and color, the one I had grown up with, doing something horrendous like that. However, his father’s death had changed him, just as my mother’s death changed me.

Both were ultimately my father’s fault. That fucker.

“I’m sorry, Vic. I shouldn’t have left you alone. I should have tried harder. If I had, you’d be alive…”

K.Y. Wolff’s voice cut me off. “It will always be balanced.”

I was running on five cups of coffee when the call I had been waiting for finally came. “We’re calling from the Convent of Sunflower Children, Mr. Sinclair.” I called them two days ago after digging deeper into Robert Miller. He was killed in the Orphanage’s chapel.

“Sister Mary Elizabeth will meet you today. Does ten o’clock work for you?”

“Of course. Thank you,” I said as I hung up and quickly called Enzo. He answered after the fifth ring.

“I’m busy with a dead body, man,” he said.

“I’m going to meet the director of the orphanage,” I said, jogging toward my car. “I feel like I’m getting closer to K.Y. Wolff.”

“Good. Now I’ve to go. My dead body is becoming restless.”

“Fuck off,” I said and drove toward the orphanage. “K.Y. Wolff… your story started here, didn’t it? I’m going to find it, and then I’ll find you.”

When I reached the orphanage, a middle-aged woman wearing a habit greeted me with a warm smile. “Welcome to our home,” she said. “Follow me, Mr. Sinclair.” She walked me through the flower fields toward the playground where girls and boys were playing, looking happy and free.

“Sister, Mr. Sinclair is here.”

The woman behind the desk nodded, motioning me to sit.

“You wanted to talk about Robert Miller?” she said as soon as the other sister walked out. She kept twisting her rosary as she looked at the statue on her table.

“Yes. I was doing a story, and his name came up. He was murdered here, and the cops never found his murderer.”

“Murderer,” the sister scoffed. “I believe in God, Mr. Sinclair, and I believe in good and evil, the sins of men. But I still wouldn’t call the one who killed him a murderer.”

The sister’s eyes filled, and she quickly blinked her tears away.

“What do you mean?”

“Robert Miller was a man who was supposed to protect these children, but he used our trust to prey on them.”

“You mean…”

The sister nodded. “A girl jumped to her death because of him, and there were many others who were too scared to speak up. We were fools not to see who he really was. I still pray to God to forgive me for my part in my charges’ ruined childhoods.” This time, the sister couldn’t stop the tears. A broken sob left her lips.

“Who… who killed him? One of the girls?”

“We didn’t know, but we didn’t want to know. We didn’t need to know.” The sister took in a deep breath, her eyes clear as glass.

There was no regret there, no guilt. She looked remorseless. Maybe she was. Maybe Robert Miller’s death was justice and not a crime.

I was sure the one who killed him was K.Y. Wolff, and I suddenly felt a pang in my chest for the little girl she had been… Someone had stolen her innocence from her, and she protected herself. Could I blame her for that?

“Do you have records of the girls who lived…” The sister cut me off, shaking her head.

“We had physical records, but we had an accident, and the files were destroyed. I wasn’t the director back then. It was Sister Serena, but after Robert Miller’s death, Sister Serena was never whole again. She blamed herself for bringing that wolf among our little lambs. She retired two years after his death.”

I had a gut feeling that this Sister Serena knew the killer, knew K.Y. Wolff.

“Do you know where Sister Serena lives now?”

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