Page 4 of Heartless Sinner

“I understand and I’m rooting for you.”

“I know you are.”

“I’ll let you go and call you back tomorrow. Get home safely and sleep for the whole day.”

I won’t bother to tell her that the closest I’ll get to sleeping tomorrow is watching the tired truckers snoozing in the diner’s booths after breakfast. “Thanks again for everything.”

“You’re so welcome. Please remember, you’re amazing.”

“You, too.”

We say goodbye and I slip my phone in my bag.

I return my focus to the road ahead with less hope than I had an hour ago.

That version of me from earlier didn’t know that she wasn’t going to get the job.

Damn it. It’s back to the drawing board. Now I have to figure out how to get thatpop.

Disappointment sits heavy in my chest but I try to shake it off as I continue down the road.

Twenty minutes later, I turn onto my street. Dad’s house is just up ahead.

When I get in, I just want to crawl into bed and sleep, so I hope my brother isn’t there with his crazy, rowdy friends.

I love Johnny, but his bad, bad, bad habits and unsavory choice of company get on my nerves.

He’s five years older than me but anyone would think he’s the youngest because he’s always getting himself in some kind of trouble.

He often crashes at Dad’s because it’s closer to the racetracks. Like our father, he became a race car driver and has a wild obsession with fast cars that’s often the cause of his trouble.I think he got that taste for trouble from our deadbeat mother who walked out on us when we were kids.

Sadly, I’m beginning to see that I have a little of her in me, too.

I park up on the drive, grab my things, and make a dash for the porch. I just about manage to get myself there without getting too wet.

I’m about to open the door when I realize it’s already open.

That’s weird.Neither Dad nor Johhny would do that.

I hesitate for a moment then convince myself that Dad must have left the door open by accident. Or maybe Johnnyishere.

When I walk into the house, raised voices greets me. It sounds like an argument.

I pick out Dad’s voice and someone else I don’t recognize.

Suddenly, Dad cries out in pain. The sound of his anguish stops my heart and freezes my blood.

What the hell is going on?

I rush toward the sound. It came from the back. In the kitchen.

I stop short when I turn down the hallway and see a big hulking man pointing a gun at Dad while he kicks him in the stomach.

Dad lies on the floor curled into a ball with blood and bruises covering his face.

Chapter Two

Scarlett

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