Page 48 of The Secrets of a Sin

Christ, is she trying to get us whipped?

“Phoebe, get away from the window.” I whisper-shout across the room, feeling my nerves hit an all-time peak. I knew he was most likely passed out on the couch by now, but I didn’t want to risk it. The last time we were caught not doing our chores, we were both left with marks from our defiance.

“But there’s a pretty bird outside.” She spins her head, catching my aggravated stare. “Come look.” She ushers me over with a wave of her hand and a grin across her mouth.

Grunting, I peer over my shoulder, listening for the sounds of the T.V playing in the background, but all I hear are the soft snores coming from the living room. Somewhat relieved at hearing the annoying sound, I gradually rise off my sore knees and tiptoe over to Phoebe. “Are you trying to get us killed?” I shake my head as I come to a stop beside her. She frowns, immediately causing my heart to sink in my chest from her regretful expression. I know I shouldn’t be pissed, but I am only trying to protect her.

Sighing, I turn my head, and peer out of the glass. “It’s just a pesky crow.” I mumble, staring at the bird as it stands in the grass.

“It’s so pretty, Arsen.” She responds in awe as she presses a palm against the window as if she wants to touch it.

Grunting, I glance down at her pert little nose. “There’s way prettier birds out there.”

Her face scrunches up in disbelief, and she scowls. “It looks lonely like the black unicorn.” She mutters, remembering the story I told her a few months ago. “Just because you think it’s ugly doesn’t mean it doesn’t deserve love.” I watch as a lone tear trails down her cheek, making me feel like a complete and utter asshole.

“Phoebe, I didn’t…” I begin to apologize when she quickly cuts me off.

“I think it’s the prettiest bird in the world.”

Buzz.

Buzz.

The vibrating of my phone quickly snaps me out of the memory I’m experiencing, and I roughly bring the device to my ear.

“Hello?”

“Hi, is this Mr. Hale I’m speaking with?” A man replies.

“Who’s asking?” Dragging my eyes away from the window, I straighten up on my stool and wait for a response.

“Yes, hi, my name is John Carrington. I am the coroner down at Johnson County Coroner's office.”

My heart rate instantly climbs as my grip on the phone tightens to a painful degree. The last I’ve spoken with him was right after Phoebe’s death, and the agony was still very fresh.

“Our testing results for Phoebe came back later than expected, and I was wondering if you could stop by at your earliest convenience so we can go over them?”

Fuck that. I wasn’t going to be able to wait another goddamn second for answers when I had him right here on the phone with me. Rising off the chair, my anxiety sores along with the anger that's been brewing deep inside my belly. “Just tell me now.” I demand, pacing the room with heavy feet.

“Sir, I think it’s best you come…”

“I think it’s best you give me some fucking answers, John. I’ve waited this damn long for a retest, and I deserve to know what you found.” I manage to stay calmer than I normally do, but I can tell I’m not far from cracking.

On a sigh, he finally gives me what I want. “The cause of death is suicide. A fatal gash to the trachea.” My breathing collapses.

No. That can’t be right. That can’t be fucking right. My throat hardens, and the words I want to say never come out. I was frozen like a statue. A deer caught in the headlights. Phoebe couldn’t have killed herself. She wouldn’t.

“And we also discovered something new that was overlooked in our first testing.”

Then suddenly, a flicker of hope ignites inside my chest.

“She was pregnant.”

What?

“To be exact, she was around eight weeks along.”

Kneeling on the ground, my stomach twists tortuously, causing every other organ in my body to knot as well.

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