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She was anything but.
Determined, stubborn, obsessed.
She’d set up her new home, and her investigation into Rosemary’s death.
Sage was up at 4 AM every day, working the farm until noon with the help of her two ranch hands. Then she spent afternoons and evenings learning everything she could about Rosemary’s life before she passed. Sage had dedicated a whole room to her inquiry, the walls covered in notes, names, and pictures.
And Rosemary’s end had been much worse than even Sage had anticipated.
Rosemary had always been a free spirit, extroverted, and high energy. Blonde and built, she’d also been the ultimate beauty queen, garnering attention wherever she went.
Sage, on the other hand, took after their father, with straight brown hair, hazel eyes and a quiet disposition.
Her parents often referred to the sisters as the sun and the moon. Nothing and no one could eclipse Rosemary’s radiant light.
Sage was the introverted one and preferred a good book over a loud party. Still, Sage was never envious of her sister, rather, she preferred to let Rosemary have the spotlight. Rosemary, in her turn, had always confided in Sage, seeking out her advice and leaning on her as a confessor.
But Rosemary was never the same after their parents’ death.
None of them were.
The shock of their car accident, their sudden passing, had fractured a young family forever. At sixteen, Rosemary’s diagnosed depression spiraled, and she turned to alcohol and drugs. Sage and Blane, on the other hand, focused on school and future careers.
At seventeen, Rosemary quit high school and ran off to Vancouver to work the pole. And in the years that followed, Sage had received many a late-night phone call from her little sister. Not for money or to bail her out of trouble. Just to talk. Sage knew her sister’s struggles stemmed from her mental health, and she did whatever she could do help her.
And then, two years ago, Rosemary called her to say she’d gotten a job as a hostess at a new strip club, and she’d met a man. She’d sounded happy and Sage was happy for her. A turning point. Rosemary was finally finding steady ground in her life.
But then the truth came out.
The ground was nothing but quicksand.
Rosemary was involved with a biker. A man named Padraig Flynn, a VP with Midnight Carnage, an outlaw motorcycle club. Bikers who were drug runners, gun smugglers, and worse. And Rosemary wasn’t just involved, she married Padraig a month after they met.
Sage’s worries only grew as time went on. Her sister’s communications became fewer and fewer. Then her calls and texts stopped completely just over a year ago.
Until Sage received a phone call from the police she’d been dreading for years.
Rosemary had been found. Murdered.
But instead of mourning and moving on, Sage needed answers.
Rosemary had her problems, no doubt, but she was her sister. Her blood. And she deserved justice. But every time Sage would call the police for an update, she was stonewalled. And Sage knew why. Rosemary’s lifestyle was considered ‘high-risk’. They didn’t say it in so many words, but the implication was, Rosemary had brought about her own death.
The story was the same for so many missing and murdered women.
But Sage wouldn’t allow Rosemary’s murder to be dismissed, forgotten, or left unsolved.
And Blane’s utter lack of care about everything, including Rosemary’s passing, had Sage’s temper sparking to life.
“I’m sorry I don’t want to spend all my time gambling and running up debts like you,” Sage bit out. “And even though you never ask, guess what, Blane? I have problems of my own. And I need to get back to solving them.”
“You’ve become such a bitch, Sage. What the hell?”
Sage’s patience had run out. “I’ll send you the money today but don’t call back with another request for more. My bank is now officially closed.”
Sage hung up.
Should she block his number?
