Page 1 of Secret Sins

Chapter 1

Van

A heavy fog rolled through the sleeping town as I said goodbye to my dog and set off down the street on foot. The salty tang of ocean water hanging in the air reminded me of home, but it wasn't quite the same. As a matter of fact, it was on the opposite coast; I'd just moved all the way to the other side of the country. It wasn't originally in my plans, but nothing had been for a majority of the last decade. Nothing had ever come easy for me, no matter how old I got or what I accomplished. Hard work didn't always pay off, honesty wasn't always the best policy, and the truth hadn't set me free; it had fucked me over.

Slinging fish was not the best use of my skills, but it put food on the table for me and my black lab. At least, once I received a paycheck, it would. The job was smelly, it was backbreaking, and it began while everyone else remained safely cuddled in their warm beds. Tucking my exhausted body further into my anorak, I fisted my hands in my pockets as the knuckles protested. My skin was cracked in too many places to count, but the cold kept seeping into my bones. I wasn't yet accustomed to the environment in which I now found myself.

Shadows encroached from all sides, and I whistled tunelessly to stave off the darkness. Dangerous streets were my comfort zone, but only if I knew the ins and outs. Here, I was the interloper. Here, the alleys could chew me up and spit me out. Dawn wouldn't break for several more hours, after my feet already ached and my back wept. Salt would stick to my eyebrows, the brim of my cap, and the soles of my boots. Sweat would mingle with the mist until I felt as though I'd had a shower or gotten caught in a sudden squall. Rainstorms happened fairly often here, though not as severe as those back home.

There were very few bright spots in my life at the moment. My dog, Heidi, was the best girl I'd ever known. Loyalty was easy to come by in pets versus people, and she was perpetually happy to see me. Sometimes I felt guilty about keeping her locked up while I worked, but I had no other options. She had the run of the place, but it was small enough that it barely warranted the title of apartment.

It was more spacious than what I'd come from, so I couldn't complain.

The shops and houses shared square footage here, all huddled together along the coast. I'd not had much chance to visit the small businesses yet, but my first paycheck was due tomorrow. Then, I'd have enough money in my pocket to try out the cafe or the pizza place. My stomach growled just thinking about it, but I shoved that off to the side. Hunger was a state of mind, one I'd learned long ago to force down with brutal ruthlessness.

On this day, the same as every other day, I passed the bakery cafe, the bookstore, and the little convenience store. Nothing but fog hung around at this time of night, but the cloying scent of roses drew my attention. As was my new habit, I peered into the glass panes of the bookstore's front windows. A red neon EXIT sign illuminated the back door and the shelves in that area. It was tidy, but also not. Homey without being unprofessional. A sagging armchair, stacks of large volumes, and the buttery yellow paint called to me. There was no rhyme or reason for why it would, and I backed up as my breath fogged the window. I was due at work in mere minutes.

Only one other person loitered by the entrance when I arrived, as it had been every morning since I got this job. Chris greeted me with a head nod, and I responded in kind. He'd hired me without asking twenty questions, and that was all I was truly looking for when I arrived in town. He unlocked the double doors leading to the facility, and I followed him inside.

Everything was cold and sterile, and smelled exactly like lingering fish guts. My stomach griped loudly, and Chris raised an eyebrow before flipping on the lights in the office. Ignoring both, I prepared for the long day ahead.

Once the morning boats had dropped off their catch and I'd sent more fish to the sorter than I had ever planned on seeing up close in my lifetime, there was one interesting exchange in my daily routine. Liam Pembrook came in for fresh fish each morning at the exact same time, and Chris had assigned me to work with him. I was positive it was a test to see if I could handle my shit, to act professionally, and greet the customers properly.

I could, but I had to prove it to someone who was a virtual stranger.

"Whatcha got this morning?" Liam called as he strode toward me.

"Mostly halibut."

Waiting for him to draw closer, I held the headless fish in my gloved hands. He inspected it, inspected me, and grinned.

"Beautiful."

"Aw, thanks."

Chuckling, he slapped me on the back. "I'm just saying, if I put you up on the shelf, some lucky lady would snap you right up."

"Guess it's a good thing I'm not for sale."

"Good thing," he agreed. "Wife would kill me for bringing you home instead of this fish. Let's see how much you've got for me."

Liam and his wife ran a small grocery, selling whatever fish came in that morning and the produce they grew themselves. I hadn't met her yet, but he talked about her all the time.

"I'll have to stop in after payday to stock my fridge."

"Cupboards bare?" Liam asked with sympathy.

"I'll get by." One thing I'd noticed in this small port town was everyone's need to take care of each other. Not that I wasn't grateful, but I had less than zero means to return the favor.

"When you're flush, Oceana Grill cooks these babies up real nice."

When I'm flush. Yeah. "Thanks for the tip."

Our business essentially concluded, Liam moved on to talk to Chris about how many pounds of fish he wanted and the cost. Since that was out of my wheelhouse—hell, all of this was out of my wheelhouse—I went back to my job.

At the end of my shift, I washed my hands and winced at the stinging pain of soap and water cascading over cracked skin. I would have to find some cream or something to put over them before the end of the day tomorrow. Saying my goodbyes to Chris, I walked back home.

At midday, it wasn't exactly sunny, but it wasn't as misty as it was during my pre-dawn walk. Clouds dotted the sky as I unlocked my door, finally feeling the type of relief that runs down the spine and settles in the gut.