Page 6 of Tainted Sinners

Despair steals my breath, and tears sting my eyes when I see her. My beautiful baby sister, pale, cold and blue. Her long, sunshine blonde hair shining no more under the bright, white lights illuminating her. Her smile no longer beaming so brilliantly to melt the ice encapsulating my heart.

Shadows close in on the periphery of my vision, and I blink to dislodge the tears that cling to my eyelashes. Holding a hand to the window, my lips quiver. I open my mouth, but my throat constricts painfully. A burning sensation sears my sternum as I lean my forehead against the window.

“That’s her. That’s my sister. Madeline,” I rasp hoarsely, my breath fogging the glass.

The curtain closes again, but I can still see her. Turning to the morgue assistant, I clear my throat when all I want to do is choke. Sympathy stretches her lips in a slight, piteous smile.

“What happened? Why did you need me to identify her?”

“There was no wallet at the scene of her murder, and it would take days to get it from the DMV,” She answers solemnly. Ah, that’s it. They want her identified so they can push her aside... “Knowing who she is will help the police find her killer. They’re already searching for her boyfriend, or so they say. Even brutal murders like this — well, I hate to say it, but I wouldn’t hold your breath on the Boston PD, Mr. Murphy.”

“If they’re going to drag their heels, what does that mean for her? For Madeline? Can I take her home?” I ask, my throat on fire.

The woman — she’s honest with me about what’s going to happen. Or, more accurately, what won’t happen. If the police don’t find that little shit, Frankie, I will do it myself.

But I can’t leave her in a place like this. Cold and damp and dark. No, my sister — my luminous, radiant sister deserves better than this.

“We have to document everything, take samples,” The woman starts, frowning in displeasure. “I’m sure, if you paid enough, you could easily skip the queue. Ask for Dr. Moores. He’ll do a proper job for the right price so she can rest in peace and won’t have to be exhumed. If you’re going to do that, I have an email so you can make arrangements discreetly.”

“That’s highly illegal,” I replied wryly, and the woman shrugged carelessly.

“Thank you for your words. I’m glad you’re not showering me with platitudes and pity.”

“Boss?” Jimmy’s voice breaks my reverie, and I crack open my eyes. A dream—no, a memory—hangs heavy behind my eye sockets as I glance over at the closest thing I have to a friend. The car jostles lightly when we hit a pothole, echoing the turmoil in my mind. “Are you okay? You’ve been quiet since we left Heather’s.”

I inhale deeply through my nose and exhale a heavy sigh. Jimmy’s expression tightens, and he leans back against the passenger side door of the back seat. I shake my head. “Nevermind. It’s nothing.”

“You think she knows where he is? Her half-brother?” Jimmy asks quietly, and I shake my head once more. Of course, he hadn't been watching Heather and me. I'd made him wait by the car so I could catch her alone. “Did she remind you of something, Boss?”

I tried to avoid answering his question. “I told Heather I wanted her to do jobs. "I never said exactly what," I mumble as a recent memory passes behind my eyelids when I blink. How much time had passed? One hour? Jimmy raises an inquisitive brow. "But the first thing she said was, 'You want me to kill people?' and I have to admit... it caught me off guard. Why would that be the first thing that comes to mind?”

“She reminded you of Madeline, didn’t she?" Jimmy inquires, and I curtly nod. I turn to look out the window and notice the streetlamps illuminating pools on the sidewalk. I let the silence stretch as I gather my thoughts before speaking.

“Even if she doesn’t know where Frankie is now,” I start, tearing my eyes away to look at Jimmy who listens intently, his concentration knitting his brows and jutting out his chin. “Heather must’ve known, deep in her gut, that Frankie’s someone to stay away from. We know from the court records that his mother abandoned him once it came out that her husband had an affair child.”

“Frankie was a narcissistic, power-hungry asshole even as a toddler?" Jimmy asks, perplexed, and I roll my eyes with a grimace. “What? Come on, Jack — you know I suck at this stuff.”

“They had no relationship until Heather’s mother died,” I say. I like that Jimmy has a rock where his brain should be; it makes it easy to bounce theories off him. “He killed my sister because she was about to end her relationship with him for using her to get in with me. Strangling and stabbing someone to death is not something you do on the spur of the moment. Frankie undoubtedly gave off 'serial-killer vibes,' which manifest in childhood”

“That’s true, I guess. It’s not like shooting someone, even accidentally.” Jimmy replies gravely.

“I suppose,” I wave my hand. “We only know so much, and the rest is pure speculation. The debt is merely an entry point. I don't care about the money or making it equal. I just want Frankie, and Heather will find him for me. I just need to figure out how to get her to do it on her own.” As I say this, a different thought came to me.Heather knows she’s better off without Frankie. What if she doesn’t contact him even if she knows where he is?She knows nothing good will come of it.

Even if she doesn’t contact him, we’ll find a way to get him to hear that she’s working for me. He’ll show up eventually. “She will help us find him, she will.”

“And how does all of this connect back to Frankie murdering Madeline four years ago?” I grind my teeth; that’s another one of Jimmy’s qualities. He asks way too many questions. But that's a good thing because he wants to understand rather than hide his confusion like others do to save face.

“Frankie killed Madeline because she found out he was using her to get on my good side,” I reply with a nod, but I’m not surprised. Jimmy’s all skull and snot up there. “If we’re going to find Frankie, Heather’s our best shot. Whether she’s complicit or not.”

And I'll have some fun with her along the way. Excitement blooms in my chest at the thought, driving away the last vestiges of my nightmare. Ignoring the logistical enigma of Heather Lewis, I close my eyes to remember the view of her tits when I’d hung over her shoulder — the warmth of her abdomen in my palm and the feel of her ass against my cock.

Oh, yeah. She and I are gonna have a lot of fun together.

CHAPTERFIVE

Heather

“Ugh... I hope this works,” I cast a doubtful glance at the concoction I'd found a recipe for on the internet. My resolve is strengthened by the headache that threatens to push my eyeballs out of their sockets, and I raise the glass to my mouth. I shudder and shake my head viciously as I drain the content in one gulp, covering my mouth to avoid gagging.

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