The Secrets of a Sin, page 4
I wonder how he got that?
“Mrs. Welch...” He starts but is quickly cut off.
“It’s Ms.” She interrupts.
“Ms. Welch.” The corners of his mouth slide upwards, revealing a perfect set of teeth. “I understand your concern, but it is part of our procedure to speak with the witness alone.”
Her lips thin as she peers over at me with an unsure expression.
“How long will you speak to her for?” Her arms loosen at her sides as she traps him in her potent stare. She was intimidating to say the least, but Detective Pierce appeared less than fazed by her defiance to leave the room.
“Depends.” He shrugs drawing my attention to the revolver that’s strapped to his hip.
“On what?”
“On Charlotte of course.” He notices my stare on him and turns back around to gaze at me.
She sneers then glances at me one last time with a ‘don’t say anything you’ll regret’ look, then unwillingly follows the cops out of the room.
Once the door clicks shut, there’s a stiffness in the air that he clearly senses as well. Leaning back in the chair, his dark eyes hover over me queerly, almost like he’s trying to read me. Clearly, I masked my feelings well because he gives me a curt smile.
Jesus, he’s big.
“If you’re trying to intimidate me, it won’t work.” I muster up the words before he can start the interrogation. His mouth lifts into a grin as his large arms lift in the air to stretch, then slowly drop behind his solid neck.
“I’m not.” He simply replies. “Intimidation is a useless tactic. I prefer getting answers, properly.”
“Properly?” I chuckle darkly. “Let me guess, good cop/bad cop or is that useless as well?” I mock watching as his blond brow raises. “Or you could go old school and torture me? But I sense that might not be your style.”
His chest exhales on a deep laugh that sounds anything other than friendly, but strangely a smirk is still plastered on his face.
“Look, Charlotte.” The way my name rolls off his tongue sounds unusual, perhaps a slight Boston accent that I hadn’t notice before. “I’m not the bad guy here. What you came across was horrific and, in order to find out what happened, I need to ask you questions. I’m not accusing you of anything, so there’s no need to come at me.”
Apparently, this guy had a smiling problem because every time I met his eyes, he grinned.
“I wasn’t coming at you.” I shake my head profusely dropping my eyes into my lap. “I just don’t know you or what your intentions are.”
His arms fell from behind his neck and were now planted over his knees as he leaned over a tad. His eyes softened a bit noticing I was uncomfortable and weary.
“My intentions are to find out what happened to Ms. Hale.” He spoke softly yet assertively. “And I need your help.”
My head elevated from his statement, and I slowly felt my body relax knowing he was on my side.
So Far.
“I already told that fat cop what I know.” I motion towards the hallway as he holds back laughter but coolly shakes it off. How in the hell was this guy a detective? He certainly wasn’t like the ones you see in movies.
Maybe he’s new?
“Were you close with her?” He asks changing his smile for a more professional straight face, void of emotions.
“No.” I shake my head, replaying yesterday where I found her sobbing in the hallway. “She was quiet. Kept to herself most of the time.”
Nodding, he remains focused on me, trying to read if I’m telling the truth or not.
“Do they think she was murdered?” I quickly ask the question that’s been burning a hole through me.
“We aren’t sure.” He answers truthfully. “It’s looking like suicide at the moment, but we still have testing to do.”
Jesus.
“What else can you tell me about Ms. Hale? Anything strange or out of the ordinary?”
There was a hesitant voice inside my head telling me not to spill the beans about mine and Phoebe’s interaction yesterday. Call it intuition, but the twisting in my gut told me to keep it hush hush. I couldn't explain the urge or why I decided to follow it, but I did.
“Not really. She was just your average damaged girl at St. Catherine’s.” I go on. “Strange and out of the ordinary is a regular here, Detective Pierce.”
With lowered brows, I realize he doesn’t know what kind of school this is.
“The women at St. Catherine’s are tainted. We’re the problems that no one wants to deal with, so I’m not really that shocked I came across a dead body.” He appears taken back by my statement. “It was a matter of time.”
Taking a deep breath, he shifts in his chair and sits a little taller.
“Tainted? How so?” His words come out forced like he didn’t want them to slip off his tongue, but he leaned in like he was interested to hear more.
“I don’t know Phoebe’s specific issue, but I know we aren’t the run-of-the mill girls you find in other schools.”
“And why are you here?”
My eyes widened, shocked he would ask when he clearly had no right.
“What does that have to do with anything? What I’m here for doesn’t concern you.” I all but spit out, feeling shame rise up inside me. His stare immediately dropped, and a silent curse flew out of his mouth.
“You’re right, I’m sorry.” He moves his head side to side. “I just… I was informed this was a Catholic School at the briefing. I didn’t realize it was...”
“Filled with crazy girls?” I raise a brow with a tight smile. “Well, let me formally welcome you to St. Catherine’s, Detective.”
Hoping to make him feel uncomfortable, he doesn't even flinch at my statement. His cool and collected composure surprised me-certainly wasn’t what I was expecting. Normally we get puckered faces and glares, but Detective Pierce isn’t fazed.
Not one bit.
“Call me Rolland.” He announces.
“Sounds more professional to call you Detective Pierce.” I find myself lingering over his scar again, tracing the jagged flesh until I notice his eyes on me again.
“Perhaps.” He nods. “But it’ll be easier to trust me if you can call me by my first name.”
Confused, I tilt my head.
“Why do I need to trust you?”
“Well for starters you're sitting stiff as hell in your chair and clearly don’t want to be here.” He points out.
My mouth drops slightly, and I purposely drop my shoulders to loosen myself up.
“Obviously I don’t want to be here when I feel like I’m being interrogated like a suspect.” I say through clenched teeth, which causes his mouth to twitch.
“You aren’t a suspect. I know you didn’t do anything.” He confesses and I feel like a weight has been lifted off my chest. “Now relax, no need to be all hostile with me.”
Okay, maybe I was being sort of a bitch but what did he expect?
“How do you know I didn’t do anything?” I ask curiously, watching as his eyes narrow slightly.
“Call it intuition.” He smirks.
Intuition my ass.
“Huh, well go ahead then. Ask away.”
We go back and forth for about an hour. I answer his questions the best I can, and he watches me with a close eye the whole cross-examination. Every now and then, I’d find myself admiring his form, wondering what his skin would feel like against mine. It’s been so long since I’ve been in front of an attractive man, and I was soaking it all in. My body vibrated with aches that were nearly impossible to ignore.
Damn this curse to hell.
“I think that is all I need from you today, Charlotte.” He rose from his chair, shoving his hands in his pockets. Not only was he built like a fighter, but he was tall too. I’m sure the top of my head wouldn’t even make it to the bottom of his chin.
“Will I be seeing you again, Detective Pierce?” I lift my chin, meeting his stare and once again feeling the undeniable ache.
“Eager to see me again already?” He teased, causing my eyes to roll.
“I’m eager to shower.” I lift from the chair, and his eyes subtly take me in. I must look like complete crap, dry blood on my hands and face, a nappy ponytail and no makeup.
Definitely nasty.
“I’ll walk you out.” He motions his head towards the door, and I follow at a safe distance behind him. Any closer and I might attack him.
And sadly, that’s not a joke.
He opens the door and ushers me out. I quickly walk past him, and I immediately get a whiff of his scent.
An all-male kind of scent that makes my knees shake.
Principal Welch’s eyes immediately land on me in franticness as I step out into the hall.
“We're finished.” Detective Pierce declares behind me. I can feel his warmth sink into me from his closeness, so I swiftly move to stand beside Principal Welch.
“You okay?” She whispers as her hand rests on my arm.
Nodding, I keep my eyes on Rolland as he speaks to the other officers.
“Thank you for your sort-of cooperation, Ms. McKinney.” He grins as he nods at me. “Ms. Welch.” He navigates his eyes to her, and I feel her hand tense on my arm.
“I’ll be in touch.” He directs his statement to me then stalks off down the corridor.
“Can I… Can I go now? I need a shower.” I hold my hands out and feel the sudden urge to scrub my hands till they're white.
“Yes, you’re free to go.” An officer nods but Principal Welch’s hand tightens.
“Are you sure you will be okay?” Her sincerity catches me off guard but with a small nod, she releases her grip.
Scurrying past everyone, I rush to my room bypassing girls who are standing in the halls, whispering to one another. Once I make it inside, I speedily grab my shower caddy, clothes and a towel and make a beeline for the showers. As I enter the shower stall, I quickly make work of stripping off my clothes. The fabric peels off easily, smacking the floor as my leggings and tank top slip from my fingers. Reaching for the nozzle, I twist it until a stream of water crashes down over me, causing my eyes to shut and my head to tilt back.
My fingers reach for the hair tie that's holding my ponytail together and I tug on it until my brown locks tumble down my back. I let out a small sigh of relief as the tension on my head immediately evaporates from the warmth of the water.
With my eyes still tightly closed, I'm assaulted with images of Phoebe.
Her lifeless corpse sprawled out for the whole school to see, as blood covered her head to toe. It was anything from a graceful death. It was one you'd find in a horror movie with lots of fake blood-a gory scene that was clearly done over the top.
But this was real life, not some low budget horror film.
A St. Catherine's girl was dead.
Her body displayed like she wanted to be seen by everyone.
Instantly my stomach began to contort, and I found myself leaning a hand against the shower tiles to hold myself up. Dizziness plagued my senses, and my breathing was labored as I tried gasping for air. In and out, I felt on the brink of collapsing. Knees wobbly and eyes burning, I dropped down onto the cold tiled floor. Wrapping my arms around my legs, tears flooded my vision, streaming down my face until they dispersed at my feet.
“Dear Lord, please give me strength in this period of need. Please... take away all my worry and give me strength so I can accomplish what is in front of me. I have ultimate trust in you. Amen.” The prayer fell from my lips in a stuttering mess of words as my head was raised towards the heavens.
I needed his guidance. Now more than ever.
Still seated on the shower floor, my eyes were focused on the drain. A stream of red circled around me as my tears mixed in with Phoebe’s blood. My breathing hitched and I couldn’t tear my eyes off the water. Our fluids danced together in a harmonized rotation before they disappeared down the drain. Oddly I felt Phoebe and I were intertwined in this moment, as if I could feel her pain enter me. Her sorrow filled my chest to the point that I couldn't breath and I was clawing at my bare chest. Perhaps this was a sign from God.
An Epiphany.
Maybe God was trying to tell me something. That Phoebe’s death was my awakening-a stride towards finding absolution from my addiction. But it made no sense. How could this be my penance?
“What is it you want from me?” I cry out to an empty shower room hoping for a reply. But no one answered. I was left with nothing but a vague sign that could have been wrongly interpreted by my weak state. For all I know, I could be losing my fucking mind.
And I probably was.
I saw too much today anyway.
So, instead of looking more into it, I resumed with washing myself and my hair as I sat on the ground. My tears soon stopped, and I was freshly cleaned and ready to put this day behind me along with all the other shitty days I’ve had.
But this one jumped to the top of the list. And I wasn’t quite sure if I’d ever be the same again.
3
CHARLOTTE
Parents and Guardians,
It comes with great sorrow to announce the sudden death of a student at St. Catherine’s. As of Thursday morning, our faculty notified the authorities, and a complex investigation took place and ruled out the possibility of foul play. We're taking extra precautions at this time and are offering counseling to any of those who feel they need it.
At St. Catherine’s, we want to provide our ladies with a safe haven. We strive on being the best, and it is our belief that our school is the lord's blessing. With strong faith and loyal families, we will get through this together.
A memorial will be held on September 16th at 5 p.m. in the campus church.
Any questions or concerns, feel free to contact the administration.
Cora Welch
Principle of St. Catherine’s School for Young Women
Two days after Phoebe’s death, classes resumed, and everyone went on with their daily lives. Since it was an apparent suicide, St. Catherine’s essentially swept it under the rug. Sure, we received the letter from the administration, but, other than that, we were told to remain hush hush about the incident. But that didn't stop girls from whispering and even joking with one another about her death, and all that did was light a match inside me. I was enraged beyond belief. Phoebe was one of us. We were all connected by the flaws we had that society deemed freakish. All we had was one another, and instead of girls coming together, they were mocking her death.
“Now, ladies. I know it’s been a rough week for you all, but your studies must continue.” Sister Mary announces to the class as she paces in front of the room. “I won’t tolerate any more of this gossip or foul language I’ve witnessed. What happened was a horrible tragedy and I expect you all to pray for her.”
“She was a fucking freak anyway.”
My eyes immediately connected with the blonde in front of me as she whispered under her breath. The urge to wrap my fingers around her perfectly curled hair and pull until her head bled coursed through me but a voice calling my name saved her.
“Charlotte?” Sister Mary calls out. “Principal Welch would like to see you in her office.” Her eyes immediately dropped from mine and continued to speak to the rest of the class. Ever since the night I found Phoebe, Sister Mary and I’s relationship has become unusual. We didn’t talk that much to begin with, but now she avoided me at all costs.
Maybe this was her way of grieving, I suppose?
As I rose out of my chair, heads turned, and all curious eyes landed on me. Their snickers rattled in the room, but an unexpected voice quieted them immediately.
“Keep laughing, Holland.” Annalise all but growled towards the brunette seated beside her. Her face grew pale, and her eyes quickly dropped down into her lap. Everyone else must have heard Annalise because they all tucked their tails behind their back and became mute. Stunned that Annalise would even stick up for me, I give her a timid smile in thanks as I saunter down the aisle past her. Her blonde spirals are hanging over her right shoulder and her gaze is zeroed in on me. Blue piercing eyes suck me in and drown me in their intensity the second our stares connect. The wicked grin she gives me in return unsettles me just as much as it intrigues me. She knew the effect she had on people and used it to her advantage.
Once I exited the classroom, I trekked down the long dingy corridor, then rounded the final corner when I heard a thunderous voice seep through the walls of her office. My feet came to an abrupt halt and the noisy side of me waited beside the door and listened.
“This is bullshit, Welch, and you know it.” My ears are assaulted by a rich velvety voice that speaks with fury. Instantly my feet rattle in my Keds, as my skin breaks out in a burst of tingles.
“Mr. Hale, please lower your voice.” Principal Welch hisses.
“Lower my voice?” He chuckles darkly-a low rumble that causes my interest to peak immediately. “I don’t give a fuck if any of your bible thumpers hear me.”
Who the hell is this guy?
“There’s nothing we can do for you further…” She begins to say but the booming sound of something smacking the wall causes my heart to ignite and quickly rip open the door. My intrusion causes both their heads to turn my way, but I’m rendered speechless as my body remains stagnant at the doorway. Principal Welch may as well have faded out in the background, because the man who resembled a fallen angel and stood only a feet away from me, robbed me of my breath.
Thump.
Thump.
Thump.
My heart crashed violently against my chest as I felt the air in the room shift to an agonizing degree. My skin felt hot as my eyes devoured the stranger. He was unlike any man I’ve ever seen. Where his face was sculpted like an angel, his body was built for sin. Messy hair the shade of midnight laid perfectly on the top of his head, with the sides cut shorter to his scalp. My fingers were itching for a feel, desperate to run my digits through the waves as they bounced hastily at my sides. Dragging my stare along his tall frame, I take in his black attire that is molded to his body like a second skin. A black trench coat covers his broad shoulders and drapes down just above his knees, and around his regal neck is a gold chain that is stuffed under his black tee.
