Page 13 of Overcast

I like to think of it as art, cutting and boring into people with different objects. Mastering the skill of getting people to talk because that’s what I do.

And I do it very well.

“I need a name, sweetheart,” I urge, tossing the empty Home Depot bucket to the side and ridding myself of fantasies that have no right forming against my better judgment. “Who hired you?”

She’s in the middle of a coughing fit. Struggling to catch her breath and stop inhaling the water that’s now saturated into the towel.

Kyson meets my eyes, and I jerk my head for him to take off. The blonde’s newfound freedom is quickly taken advantage of as she turns her neck to the side to get some sort of relief.

When Kyson is no longer in sight, I rip off the cloth, letting her have a quick second of comfort while I check my watch.

I don’t have much time left here.

The cops roam this area at this time of night because the gangs and drug dealers of Venna start to creep out from the shadows. My abandoned car parked in the alley of a deserted building—sounds like unwanted company that I don’t need.

“Come on,” I compel impatiently. “I don’t have all fucking day.”

“I don’t...I…” She gags again, and she’s absolutely worthless right now.

So much so that I’m ready to start cutting her fingers off with a set of wire cutters.

But, again, the limited time doesn’t leave enough for that either.

“You know Hollis. How long have you two been working together?” She’s still fighting for air, rolling onto her side to possibly throw up.

Even looking like a drowned rat, the blonde is fucking perfect. Her skin is unblemished and smooth, her eyes are stunningly vibrant. Through her baggy jeans and shirt, I felt curves.

Another gasping-coughing fit, and I examine her again while I have the chance. Close up, she looks smaller than how she did at the lake, which makes me believe she’s a fucking junkie.

My eyes flick to her forearms then up, but there are no needle marks, so she must enjoy snorting or popping pills.

Regardless, she’s small, which is great for Hollis because it was easy access for him to do precisely what I found him doing to her.

His hand was shoved so far down her jeans that I could smell her pussy on his fingers.

Then there’s the fact that he was fucking around when hours beforehand he was the getaway vehicle from my sister’s attempted murder got him. That got him tagged by the butt of my shotgun.

Too bad she’s soon to be dead weight with answers still clogged in her throat that I desperately need.

Without her cooperation, I’m just as useless, unable to protect my family from any lurking threat that might still be out there. And if I don’t know which direction to start, I’m fucking screwed.

It’s not an option.

And now, little Miss I-like-it-get-off-when-men-are-only-yards-away wants to act shy. And being quiet and apprehensive isn’t going to fucking help her right now.

She put her hands on my sister.

My fucking family.

The only piece I have left since Mama died two years ago from cancer.

This bitch is going to die, but not before I get answers first.

“Enough of the coughing bullshit,” I snap, fighting through memories that I’ve backlogged in my brain. “I’m counting to ten, and then you’re going to start spewing out the shit I need.”

I start my countdown in my head, which slowly turns into thoughts of my sprinting in Reagan’s direction, my heart slamming into my chest as I watch her being drowned. I’ve had things and people taken from me, just like anyone else, except I can’t say that the aftermath was anything but unconventional and accepted by society.

My sister won’t be one of my grievances.

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