A Deadly Sin: An epic dark thriller that will have you wanting to leave the lights on.

by Tracie Podger

  I let my mind rest, go blank. My vision softened as I took in the room. I turned, slowly, taking in every detail of a room that was already familiar, yet tainted with evil. The smell of death and decomposition still permeated the air. It was a sweet, sickly smell. The air conditioner had been turned off after my mother had been discovered but the scent of her body lingered.

  “Talk to me,” I whispered. I wanted the house to give up its secrets.

  I walked to the hallway and climbed the stairs. I made a conscious effort to not touch the banisters. Although the property had been processed, I didn’t need my prints to be added. There was a basic bathroom, the tiles gleamed and the smell of bleach suggested someone was fastidious with their cleaning. Or someone had used the room to murder in.

  I made my way to one bedroom. It wasn’t the one Thomas slept in. There was a bedstead and mattress without any covers. The room smelled of dust, as if it had been shut up for some time. I moved on to the next one, his. The bed was pushed against the back wall. It was neatly made; the corners of the bed sheet would have passed inspection in the army, such were the sharpness of the corners. A chest of drawers sat against the opposite corner. Although the drawers were open and the clothes messed up, I knew that before the forensic search, they were perfectly folded. I moved to the closet and picked out a t-shirt, I looked at the tag on the collar. It was a dollar store brand. I had no idea what Thomas earned as a teacher, but I imagined he’d be able to afford to shop anywhere other than a dollar store.

  His range of clothing was similar to mine. His sneakers were clean; his shoes polished, and perfectly lined up. I kicked at them, disrupting the regimental line.

  I sat on the edge of his bed trying to get a feel of how he lived. He was a neat freak; Corey had that right in his profiling. A shelf held a selection of books, like the one in his classroom, these books were old, worn with the spines cracked and the pages dog-eared. It contradicted his closet somewhat. I guessed he loved his books more than he was bothered about his clothing. I walked across the room and pulled one from the shelf. Treasure Island looked like it had been read many times. As I flicked through, I noticed a couple of lines of ink that had been smudged, as if tears had dripped onto the words. Whoever had read the book had been moved by the story.

  I sensed a theme; the books were about far away places, adventures. Was he looking for an escape? I refused to feel any empathy for him. I didn’t care what his childhood was like; I was only concerned with the present. My fingers ran over a copy of the Bible. I replaced Treasure Island and pulled that from the shelf. Like the other books, this had been well-read. Passages were underlined, none of which made sense to me. I pulled my cell from my pocket and sent a text.

  Find out if Thomas’ father was religious.

  Corey didn’t answer, I expected he was busy but would pick up the message at some point.

  I knew the books would have been searched in case any documents had been hidden within the pages, which was standard procedure, so I didn’t bother to look through any more. Searching for evidence wasn’t what I was there for. As much as I tried not to acknowledge it, I wanted to know how similar we were, how much influence my mother’s genes had on him. I was a firm believer of the nurture, not nature, theory though. Thomas had been brought up in a completely different way to me. But that niggle persisted.

  He’d asked me a question that had stunned me into silence. I hadn’t left the interview room because I shouldn’t have been there; I’d left to stop answering. The high I got when I saw his father’s head explode, under the force of a high-powered rifle, was off the scale. I wasn’t as close as Thomas seemed to think I was; I wasn’t splattered with his blood, but it did spray into the air. I did get the rush of adrenalin that had my heart race. Maybe killing was in our blood. If I’d have taken a different path in life, I could have well imagined wanting to experience that again.

  I left the house with a heavy heart. I hadn’t learned anything I didn’t, subconsciously, know. Thomas and I were very alike, whether that was by coincidence or not, I had no idea.

  I debated whether to walk to the bunker. I knew it had been completely cleared out so I’d gain nothing from standing in an empty space, but it was the last place Eddie had been. I started the mile walk toward it.

  The hatch had been completely cleared of earth but contained a new padlock. I stood and looked around; trees surrounded the clearing, the exit hatch just on the boundary. I walked over it. It had been marked with a blue flag. I took the most direct route into the woods. Many footprints and paw prints had made a path. I followed for a little way until it veered off. I knew that path would take me back to a small road. That would have been where Thomas handed over Eddie. I crouched down at the junction and scooped up some soil. I let it run through my fingers as if the earth would somehow connect me to her.

  Was it bad of me to pray she was dead? The alternative was just too distressing to imagine. The pain and anguish she had to be going through, especially if she was returning to a lifestyle she’d managed to escape from, was unthinkable. I knew what those bastards were capable of; I’d seen images of maimed women, punished for their disobedience. I’d watched the haunted faces of adults that had grown up in the cult, yet were too frightened to speak out. I’d sat through many an autopsy of a suicide victim who thought death was better than living.

  I stood and walked back to the house. I got in my car and drove home, feeling the grit of dirt under my fingertips grate against the steering wheel. Corey’s car was in the driveway when I pulled up. He was sitting on the hood, his cell in one hand. He looked up as I closed my door.

  “Where have you been?” he asked.

  “I’m not on house arrest, am I?” I said, joking.

  He rolled his eyes at me. “I went to his house, Corey,” I said.

  “Why? No, don’t tell me any more.”

  “I wanted to see how similar we were,” I said, ignoring his plea.

  “And?” he asked, as I opened the front door.

  “Unfortunately, I think we are alike.”

  “Well, you are twenty-five per-cent of each other,” he said. I frowned at him.

  “It’s a gene thing, half-brothers will share twenty-five…forget it. Let’s have a coffee.”

  I set the machine to refill, and while I waited, I washed my hands under the kitchen tap.

  “His father was a member of the cult,” he said.

  “I wondered. His name didn’t come up at all though.”

  “Because Thomas Jameson isn’t his father’s real name. In fact, Jameson is only one part of a double-barrelled surname.”

  I took a seat. “Go on.”

  “Thomas Jameson-Romney.”

  Corey stared at me, I stared back. “Fake feds,” I said. He nodded.

  Two of the cult elders had posed as FBI agents when they’d visited Gabriel, one of them was Romney, but it couldn’t have been Thomas Sr. He was dead by that point.

  “A brother? Son, maybe?”

  “Brother. So our Thomas James is actually the grandson of Father Samuel.”

  “Why has his real surname not come up in any checks?”

  “Because, at birth, our Thomas was registered simply as Thomas James. It took some digging, but it seems Tim is not only knowledgeable on the sins but a wizard at genealogy as well.”

  “Did you check for a scar?” I asked.

  “Yes, he doesn't have one. So either he’s a trainee, not actually in the cult, or something else.”

  “Seems odd though, doesn’t it? If he’s the son of an elder…”

  “He doesn’t go through initiation. Maybe the tattoo is his passport in,” Corey said, verbalizing my thoughts.

  We didn’t have photographic evidence of Romney. He and Richard Midley had turned up at Gabriel’s parents’ house, pretending to be investigating the cult that was involved in the devastation of his life. All they were after was information on what he knew.

  “Thomas was in this house, Corey. He f
lipped through that file and it contains Gabriel’s address.”

  “Then maybe you ought to warn him, although they do already know it.”

  I nodded as I rose to pour our coffee. I remembered that I’d recommended Gabriel leave town; he’d refused. He had a daughter to worry about but believed they were better off among friends. It had been a year since Corey and I had been on that case. Although I’d kept in contact, I hadn’t spoken to him in months. He lived just a few hours’ drive away; perhaps I’d take a trip over to see him, once we’d gotten a little more information from Thomas. I always knew Gabriel had held back information; maybe he might be able to shed some light on where the cult had moved.

  “What happens next?” I asked him, as I handed over a coffee.

  “He’s been charged on the murders he’s confessed to. And…” he paused.

  “And, what?”

  “Necrophilia.”

  I spat the coffee I had just taken a mouthful of across the kitchen table. I closed my eyes.

  “I’m not sure he actually did it, there’s no evidence. It was a statement to shock us, but I charged him with it, regardless.”

  I’d been there, heard his words when he’d said he’d fucked my mother, but to hear him being charged with it, somehow, made it feel more real.

  “I have to warn you, it’s not actually a federal offence but, fuck it, I want to throw the book at him.”

  I felt physically sick. Bile rose to my throat and I took another sip of coffee to wash it down. Acid and hot coffee burned all the way back down to my stomach.

  “Can we get the death penalty?” I asked.

  Corey shrugged his shoulders. “I’m going to ask the DA to try.”

  I wasn’t necessarily a believer in the death penalty for one reason only. It was quick, and there wasn’t any suffering. Take freedom away from Thomas, let the inmates deal with his punishment, incarceration for life was a far harder pill to swallow. I wanted Thomas to suffer.

  “He’s going to be transferred to the state prison soon. Before that happens, and which is why I’m here, we’re not getting anything from him with regards to the cult or Eddie. I can’t bring you in, officially, to interview him, but I’m about up for breaking the law right now.”

  I nodded. “Can I trust you, Mich? Can I trust you not to react?”

  I wasn’t sure it was a promise I could give, but I nodded anyway. I wanted to sit in front of him. I wanted to ask my questions.

  “Do you have to record it?” I asked, quietly.

  “You know I do. Whether anything said can be used as evidence, I doubt. I’m waiting on the DA to answer that. I’ve told him that I think it’s imperative that you question him. He wasn’t happy, bearing in mind you’re suspended right now, but relented.”

  “Can’t I be reinstated, then suspended again?”

  “That’s what the chief suggested.”

  “Why does the DA think I’ve been suspended?”

  “Losing it with a suspect, nothing more. He was told there were justifying circumstances but for the sake of the case, you were removed from duty.”

  I sighed. So the chief hadn’t told them about Canada.

  “When?” I asked.

  “Later today. I want you shaved, clean, and fully awake. You look like shit, I don’t want him to see that.”

  Corey drained his coffee and stood. I walked with him to the front door. Before he climbed into his car he turned to me.

  “Two o’clock, okay? And, Mich, you assault him, you’ll throw the case right out the window.”

  I didn’t need reminding of that. I nodded, letting him know I understood. I imagined that was exactly what Thomas wanted. Police brutality, no DNA, a forced confession under dubious interrogation methods, his defense would have a field day with that.

  I closed the door and cleared away the mugs. I checked my watch. I had a couple of hours to prepare myself. I would be the ultimate professional. I’d remove any trace of emotion. It would be hard, but for the sake of Eddie, for the sake of those kids, my mother, I’d do it.

  The rattle of a bolt as it slid from its metal casing woke me. For a moment, I was disorientated, having not realized I’d fallen asleep. My mind was groggy, my vision blurred. My body clock, thanks to the interrogation through the night, was all over the place. I wouldn’t let them know that, of course. I planted a huge smile on my face and opened my eyes. I swung my legs briskly from the bunk and sat. I stretched and gave a fake yawn, rubbing my eyes as if I’d just woken from the best night’s sleep.

  “Good morning, or is it afternoon?” I said to the officer at the open door. He held a tray with yet another stale sandwich and lukewarm coffee.

  “Oh, what delights do we have today?” I asked, reaching for it.

  He didn’t respond as he handed over the tray. “Mmm, coffee!”

  I pretended to inhale the burnt, stale, aroma of coffee. I was sure they were keeping the dregs from the previous day just to give to me.

  “Good afternoon, Thomas. Did you sleep well?” I heard. Looking up I saw Corey standing by the door.

  “I did. This is surprisingly comfortable.”

  “Good, we want you well-rested.” He smiled at me. “We have a few more questions for you, I’ll be along later.”

  I watched him walk away, the swagger he had annoyed me; he was cocky and I wondered what he was up to. No matter, I’d have the last laugh. It was a shame they had taken my watch, I’d like to know the date. I had a schedule to keep to. I wasn’t worried about knowing the time; when the sun rose it was morning, when it set, it was night. I wasn’t going anywhere; I didn’t care for the time of day.

  Waiting was something I was very good at. I’d waited long enough for my time with Mich, another few hours, few days, wouldn’t make any difference. I had all the time in the world, really. I placed the uneaten sandwich on the floor but took a couple of sips of coffee. My mouth was dry, my lack of personal hygiene was something that grated on me. I could feel the fur on my teeth as I ran my tongue over them.

  I guessed I should have washed my hand; there was a slight tacky feel to it. As if a thin layer of glue had been painted on my skin and then dried. But how great would it feel to shake hands with Corey, or better still, Mich, with cum over my fingers? I sighed. Yep, today was going to be a great day.

  I paced the kitchen, watching the clock tick so slowly toward one p.m. To kill some time I took a shower, I stripped the bed linens and put them in to wash, I stood in front of my closet, deliberating between one white cotton shirt and a nearly identical one. I splashed some cologne over my newly shaven chin and cheeks. I selected a shirt, clean jeans, and I dressed. I was at the station by half past one.

  “Mich, can I have a word?” I heard, as I walked through reception.

  The chief was standing behind the counter and I met him at the door to his office. The use of my first name had thrown me at first, but then I guessed, I wasn’t part of his team, he could afford a little friendliness.

  “Take a seat. I’m not happy about this, I don’t know if Corey said. In fact, I’m not happy about the whole fucking case being handled in my station by the FBI now, but I have no choice in that.”

  “Before you say it, I won’t do anything to fuck this up,” I said, assuming that was his reservation.

  “I wasn’t about to say that. Here’s how I see it. Yes, we got a confession, but we have no evidence. His defense is going to be all over that. You’ve seen it happen before, at the last minute a confession can be retracted. I need to know where the cross was made, where the scythe is, find me some physical evidence that absolutely ties him to all the murders.”

  I nodded my head then checked my watch. “I’d better go.”

  “And, Mich, don’t fuck this up.”

  I walked along the corridor. My palms sweated a little, not because I was anxious, but excited. It was a strange emotion to feel, bearing in mind I’d be sitting opposite a serial killer, one who happened to be my half-brother. I had a pla
n formed in my mind. I thought Thomas way too intelligent to trap into answering the questions the chief wanted. I needed to play the game he was. I needed to connect with him on a base level. To do that I was about to totally incriminate myself on record. I was about to throw my career out the window and possibly put myself in jail.

  I nodded to Corey, who in turn, nodded to an officer. We were ready.

  I watched Thomas being walked along the corridor, his step faltered a little when he saw me, then he smiled. I smiled back and gave him a nod. I walked into the interview room with him, forgoing our usual procedure of making the suspect wait.

  “Take a seat, Thomas,” I said. I carried nothing with me. No file, no pad and pen, nothing. I sat beside him.

  At first, I just stared at him. For a moment he stared back but I could see a little uneasiness creep in. I shook my head and chuckled.

  “Sorry, I was just seeing how similar we are,” I said. “Brothers, huh? Wow.”

  “You never knew?” he asked. I studied his face and measured my response accordingly.

  “No, I wish I had.” That answer seemed to satisfy him, he gave a slight nod.

  “Tell me about your dad?” I asked.

  “Why?” Thomas’ shoulders immediately tensed.

  “I just wanted to know the man our mother fell in love with, that’s all.”

  He relaxed. “He was a hard man, you wouldn’t have liked him. In fact, you kind of did me a favor when you killed him.”

  I had to decide if he was goading me before I answered. I shrugged my shoulders.

  “My dad was a tough one, too. I guess our mom liked that kind of man.” I added a sigh.

  “Is this an official interview, Mich?” he asked.

  I shook my head. “I’m not sure to be honest. It’s all a little unprecedented. I’ve never investigated my brother before,” I said, adding a chuckle. “You want the truth? I wanted to get to know you.”