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No leads, and no clear evidence. They’re calling it a senseless murder.
But I know.
Connor looked me square in the eyes and brazenly promised me his death.
But not like this.
I can’t breathe. I can’t fuckingbreathe.
I stand up on shaky legs, turning back towards the office. After forcing down the near-paralyzing shock of what I just read, I find my bearings again and dial Connor’s number. It rings and rings, and all I want to do is smash my phone on the sidewalk. Hearing his haughty tone over voicemail doesn’t help me calm down in the slightest. When it finally beeps for me to leave a message, I whisper-yell into the phone, “ConnorfuckingMaxwell, what thehelldid you do?”
I’m distracted, not paying attention to where I’m going, my feet dragging me back to the office on auto-pilot. Ending the call, I sharply turn a corner, and slam face first into a hard body.
“Oh my God, I’m so sorry…” I splutter, looking up at the person I just body-checked. My words catch in my throat, thickening with fear when I realize I’m staring straight at my ex-fiancé.
“Patrick?” It’s barely a whisper.
I don’t have time to run before someone’s arm circles my throat from the back, a cloth covering my mouth and nose. I can’t help but to breathe in a sharp gasp, trying to feed air into my lungs. It’s a mistake. I watch Patrick’s lips move but I can’t hear anything, his face slowly blurring before everything fades to black.
Lucy and I are on our knees, trying not to squirm in the last row of pews. It is where the children gather when our father gives a sermon. We are told to stay kneeling for most of the service. It is stuffy inside the church today. Quiet. A few stilted coughs. Babies are not allowed in here when he speaks. Our father does not allow interruption. Only adoration.
Sweat trickles down my spine, under the weight of my stifling cotton dress. My legs hurt and all I want is to stand up and stretch. Slowly, I reach for my sister’s hand and entwine my fingers in hers. I incline my head the tiniest of amounts to look at her, and she does the same. She is five years younger than me and I can not imagine a life without her.
Her smile is my favorite thing on earth. I grin back and squeeze her hand three times. A private signal meant for just us two. Stay strong. Make our father proud. And do not move until he is done.
Our hands stay tightly clasped until finally, our father calls the end of the morning service. We unbend our sore knees and smooth out our dresses. Mother gives us a look and a small nod.
Our smiles are wide while we weave through the mass of adults milling about, and our hands rejoin as soon as the fresh air fills our lungs, breaking into a run. We are still young enough not to have any afternoon duties. We head to our favorite place. The open field behind our house, our giggles trailing us all the way there.
When we are deep into the high grass, Lucy turns to me, letting go of my hand and falling onto her back. I do the same, the grass tickling my face while we both try to catch our breaths. After a few seconds, she turns on her stomach, her feet kicking softly in the air, playing with a small flower nearby, looking lost in thought.
“Faith’s wedding is next week,” she finally says.
She is our oldest sister. Different mother but same father.
I stay on my back, watching the spongy clouds drift across the sky. “I know.”
Then I let out a pleased hum. “I cannot wait to get married.”
When she falls silent for a time, I turn to look at her. Lucy’s face is serious and I suddenly miss her smile.
“Do you ever worry who Father will choose for you?” she asks.
Her question surprises me. But I answer truthfully.
“There is nothing to worry about Lucy,” I say, reaching for her hand through the blades of grass. “The choice was never ours to make. It is divinely chosen, there is no mistake—only our destiny.”
She stays silent, but then responds with a radiant smile, beautiful and innocent. Flopping on her back, we watch the clouds for a little while longer.
“I cannot imagine living in a house without you,” she says, with a laugh. “Promise we will build our houses next to each other?”
I smile. “I promise.”
Chapter 40
Whilewalkingoutfroma meeting at The Chelsea, I reach for my phone inside my coat pocket. As usual, my screen is full of missed calls, texts and unanswered emails. I find a voicemail from Lenix hiding in the mix, my thumb hovers over it but I don’t have time to press it before receiving an incoming call.
It’s from Sunny.
