Page 15 of Buried Beneath Sin

I stare at the older Starr, understanding why my father stayed with her so long. She’s cruel, just like him. He must be attracted to her unrelenting mean streak. In relationships, I’ve been told that opposites tend to attract, but clearly the ability to hate and destroy the people around them has brought Lauren and Patrick together in an unfathomable way.

“You fuckingwishhe’d fuck you. He’s a real man, something you’ll never have, what with your uppity airs about you,” she mocks, still laughing. “You want his cock, but you wouldn’t know what to do with it even if he turned his attention to you.”

I admire the way Beatrix can stand there without lashing out or raising her voice. There’s a grace to her that keeps her rigid but collected.

“There’s still blood on the area rug in the office.Myblood. I can show it to you if you want,” Beatrix replies, just as calm and cool as ever as she stares into her mother’s eyes.

There’s no love to be found anywhere in my stepsister’s expression. If she felt that way once toward her mother, it’s been snuffed out. Did this happen recently? Or has Beatrix hated her mother for a long time? The notes in her journal make sense now. Living under this roof with that woman and my father would drive me to a murderous intent too.

“Do you hear yourself, child?” Lauren demands. “You’re fucking nuts. Just leave me and Patrick alone. Let him take care of me andstop throwing away my medicine.”

“No. I don’t want heroin or other drugs in this house. If I find any, I’m getting rid of it,” Beatrix states with a heavy sigh. When she’s expelled all the air from her lungs she adds, “Let's get you to bed.”

“No, no, no, no! Ineedmy medicine, Trixie! I hate you!” Lauren continues her screeching as Beatrix takes a step forward, snatching her mother’s free hand then using both of Lauren’s wrists to force her backward. Together, they walk like that out of the room and down the hallway. All the while, Lauren berates her daughter.

I listen to the fading footsteps. My father bellows something, and the sound of a fist making its way through a wall follows. It seems some things never change. Neither Sagan nor I move. Not at the sound of footsteps heading up stairs, not when the yelling finally stops, and not even when there’s a soft sob coming from somewhere else in the house. We both wait, unmoving, until the house finally goes quiet.

It’s nearly dawn by then.

As I step out of my hiding spot and Sagan re-emerges, I’ve made a decision on the matter.

“We can’t let her kill them this way.” I hold up her journal. “It’s messy, and trying to take over the family business while the police conduct their investigation won’t be as easy as if they died naturally.”

Sagan nods once in agreement. “Patrick is ours to kill anyway.”

Very true. If anyone deserves to kill the bastard, it's us. But he’s not the only one we planned to kill.

“Beatrix isn’t one of us, not yet anyway.” Just because she’sthoughtabout murder and has the weapon to commit it, it’s not the same as actuallydoingit. “If you can prove she’s like us, I’ll change my vote. We’ll let her live.”

Sagan tilts his head and strokes his chin thoughtfully. “What if we let her liveandwe keep her?”

I chuckle darkly. “I thought that part was obvious.”

A single brow raises and a hint of a smug smile pulls at his lips again. Without even voicing the words, I can practically hear him gloatI told you I could change your mind.

Before I can tell him unnecessarily to shut up, Sagan holds out his hand. Without hesitation, I give him back the journal. He flips to the damning page and rips the sheet straight out.

“Sagan—”

He holds up a finger and I shut up. Reaching into his back pocket, he pulls out a pen. Has he been carrying that around this whole time? I wait as he scribbles something on the next empty page. When he’s done, Sagan hands me the book and slips the pen back into his pocket. I glance down at what he’s written:

You’re coiled tight enough, Little Viper. When you’re ready for your suffering to be over, hang something red from your window so I know it’s time to strike.

Sagan gives me a pointed look before he says, “If she reaches out, she’s one of us.”

“Fine. This way we’ll still be able to end Dad ourselves.” I frown, tilting my head to consider this new development. “What if she doesn’t see your note?”

“She will.”

His confidence isn’t cocky. SaganknowsBeatrix’s habits. Of course he would know if she came in here frequently to write in her notebook.

“Do you think she’ll actually consider this? Who would listen to a note from a stranger?”

Sagan’s smile is slow in coming and twisted with glee. Instead of answering right away, he reaches back and pulls out a black rose. He snaps the stem off and presses the flower between the pages before closing the journal and slipping it back under the wicker couch.

When he stands, he says softly, “My Little Viper has been waiting for this for a long time. She won’t disappoint us.”

9

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