Page 5

When I woke up this morning, the weight of the day slammed into me like a fucking freight train on steroids. Fortunately, the planets aligned, and there was a job to do. Most years, purging takes my mind off the date but not this year.
Because this year marks ten years since I found the nude body of my high school girlfriend dumped in the creek behind my house.
An image of Tamara the last time I saw her alive flashes through my mind, but it’s quickly replaced by the scene that unfolded when I snuck out of my house to smoke a joint the next night.
“Where are you going?”
I pause by the sliding glass door, my hand wrapped around the lighter and blunt in my pocket, and glance over my shoulder at my dad.
“Outside.”
“The police are on their way from Tamara’s house to talk to you,” he reminds me.
Which is exactly why I need to smoke away some of my nerves.
My stomach clenches as I think about the reason the po-po are coming… my girlfriend is missing, and I was the last person to see her.
When I left her house this morning, she was fine. Pissed off at me, but fine. But apparently, when her parents got home from their latest trip abroad, Tamara was nowhere to be found.
“I’ll watch for them and come inside when they get here,” I tell my dad before yanking the door to the side and slamming it shut behind me.
We live on several acres, and the back of our property butts up against woods, and there’s a creek that runs between the two. Tamara likes to stick her feet in the water when it’s warm enough, and it always amazes me how something so simple can make her so happy.
As I get closer to the creek, my nostrils flare at the intrusion of an odd smell. It’s uncommonly hot, so I chalk it up to fertilizer from neighboring farms. I stick my joint in my mouth and light it, inhaling deeply and waiting for the skunky aroma to take over my senses.
But when I reach the edge of the water and glance to my left, my knees go weak and my jaw drops. The joint falls into the creek and is slowly carried away, but I couldn’t care less because right in front of me is the entire reason I’m out here to begin with: Tamara.
“Oh, fuck,” I mutter as I reach for her naked body and haul her out of the shallow water. “Tamara, baby, wake up!” I cry.
“Earth to Thorn!”
I shake my head to clear it and see Spike, our Road Captain, snapping his fingers in front of my face. Taking in my surroundings and realizing I’m in the garage above the clubhouse is scary as fuck because I don’t remember any of the ride.
“What?” I snap.
“You coming to the Confessional or not?” he asks.
“Damn straight I am.”
“Then get your head outta the clouds and let’s go.”
Spike turns on his heel and heads toward the elevator. I take a deep breath and shove the memories from my brain so I can focus on the matter at hand.
Tamara’s been dead for ten years. Where the time went, I have no fucking clue, but it doesn’t seem to matter because this feeling of complete helplessness never leaves.
I may have been cleared pretty quickly for her murder, but the case is still unsolved. Silently vowing to the universe that I’ll find her killer, I force my focus to today’s purge.
Getting justice for Tamara has remained outside of my grasp for so long, but the child molester in the Confessional is within reach, and I intend to make him suffer…
Not just for his sins but for the entire world’s.
CHAPTER 2
DELANEY
“Hey, Sis. Happy birthday,” I say as I plop down in front of my twin’s headstone. “I’m sorry I haven’t been around in a while.”
It’s been five years since Daphne was horrifically murdered. What should’ve been a celebration on our twenty-first birthday ended in tragedy. We were at Blarney’s, a local dive bar in our area, with some friends. At last call, Daphne went to the bar to get some shots, and while Joe was setting them up, she went to the bathroom. That was the last time anyone saw her alive.