A Trinity of Wicked Tales- Jilted

by Kyla Ross

  Shit. This was the first time she’d known Phil to lose control of any elements in his life, and she didn’t want to rub it in. “Why?”

  Phil scoffed. “Rob’s wife is divorcing him, taking half his stuff—”

  “Nothing new.”

  “She lied to him and said I told her about some bitches named Veronica and Shaunie or some shit like that.”

  “Ouch.”

  “And he took it upon himself to tell Lana about what we’ve done. You know, the strip clubs, brothels, prostitutes. All that.”

  “What a fucking coward,” Sara hissed. She hated the idea of Phil being hurt by someone he’d invested so much time into. To Sara, Phil was fascinating and intriguing. An infatuation. How could anyone who had him on such a level be so cruel to him? And Rob? She was sure the men were good friends. They shared deep secrets, both including and not including her. How could he betray Phil?

  “He’s a problem. And so is Lana.”

  Lana. The woman Phil called wife. The only woman alive that Sara envied. She often dreamed of bludgeoning Lana’s skull in but never acted because of Phil’s obvious love for her. She’d never dream of hurting him. But now with this turn of events in Phil’s life, she was more than delighted to hear that Phil considered Lana a problem.

  “How is Lana a problem for you? Don’t you love her?”

  “I do love her,” he said. “Which is why she’s a problem. She wants a divorce and I can’t have that. She can’t be with anyone else.”

  “Are you sure about that?”

  Phil glanced at her. “You’re going to make sure of that.”

  “I am?”

  Sara fought back a smile. She wanted to jump for joy. There was nothing she wanted more than to be the most important woman in his life. Also, learning his secrets and being the only person he could truly trust wouldn’t hurt, either. And she got to harm Lana. Fucking Lana.

  “Do you love me?”

  The question had never come from him in such a sincere way. She didn’t quite know what to say back. So she decided to tell the truth.

  “More than you’ll ever know.”

  “Will you help me?”

  “Without a doubt.”

  “How would you feel if I asked you to kill Lana?”

  “Thrilled.”

  “I knew you would be.” He leaned in and caressed her cheeks and lips. He softly kissed her, causing her to quiver. She really missed the way his lips felt on her skin. “I know how much you hate her. So think of this as a present for me being away for so long.”

  She wasn’t sure how he knew about her true feelings about Lana, but he was playing on them, using them to regain control. Phil knew of Sara’s dark side, after all, and she appreciated him for not judging her for her borderline cocaine addiction, her unorthodox sex drive, her fascination with him and her jealousy of Lana.

  She wanted to ask about Rob, but she knew better; it wasn’t her place to know. Phil went over the details; he’d planned everything perfectly. The only thing left to do was execute the plan without being caught.

  Easy enough.

  *

  The sun was descending behind the tall buildings that towered over the back streets. Quinn stood on a corner near a motel, which was adjacent to a dark alley, buried beneath the city, forgotten. She had been standing there for two hours since Phil dropped her off a few blocks away, waiting for Rob to show up. She was wearing a short black leather skirt that covered a pair of fishnet leggings, a white crop top, black pumps, and black leather gloves that had silver rhinestones embedded in the cuffs, an outfit Phil picked from her closet.

  “Rob has a fetish for sexy goth chicks, so dress like one and it will draw him to you,” he’d said.

  “But won’t he avoid me since he doesn’t know me?”

  “That’s exactly why he’ll go for you. He’s a sloppy, pompous asshole. Time to bite him in the ass,” Phil had said as he handed her a black tote. “Always keep this with you, and don’t forget, I need proof that he’s dead.”

  Quinn’s thoughts were interrupted when a man pulled up in front of her in a luxury sedan. “Are you working?” he asked.

  With a quick glance, Quinn knew this wasn’t Rob, as the man looked nothing like the picture Phil had given her. Rob was a middle-aged man with salt-and-pepper hair. His face had perfect bone structure, accented with a chiseled chin and round gray eyes. He was very handsome. This man had a fat face with small dark eyes and orange hair.

  “No,” she said. The man drove over to the next block where more prostitutes stood in front of the motel.

  Quinn felt uncomfortable. There was no telling how long she would be away from Phil. But she had to focus on the task in front of her. Fulfilling Phil’s request meant getting him to herself.

  Another luxury sedan pulled up in front of Quinn, pulling her from her trance. The man rolled his tinted window down.

  “Hey, sweetheart, are you working?” he asked.

  She studied the man’s face. It was a perfect match to the picture she’d studied earlier—Rob.

  “Yes, baby,” Quinn said. “I’m working if you’re paying.”

  “Well, get in, sexy,” Rob said.

  Quinn placed her tote in the backseat and got into the passenger seat. Though Phil said they would park somewhere hidden, she had to be sure. She surveyed her surroundings and took mental notes of what and who was around. Before long, Rob pulled into an abandoned, dark alleyway a few blocks away from the motel, parking his car and removing the keys. She smiled to herself. She felt silly for doubting Phil.

  “Are you new?” he asked.

  “Sort of. Well, I’m new to this area,” Quinn said. She sat uncomfortably, feeling rather displaced. She just wanted to get the deed over with, not make conversation.

  “Well,” Rob said and reached into his pocket, “I have money, so you know I’m not a cop.” He pulled out a roll of cash and plopped it on the dashboard in front of Quinn. The moonlight bounced off a gold, diamond-encrusted pinky ring and she almost laughed to herself. What a showoff.

  Yeah, you’re a pompous asshole, all right. “That doesn’t mean anything,” she said.

  Rob leaned over and kissed her on the neck. As he kissed her, he reached up her skirt and caressed her. “Believe me now?” Rob asked.

  “Yeah, I do,” said Quinn. She liked the way his hands and tongue felt on her body.

  Too bad I’m about to kill you, she thought.

  He chuckled. “What’s up with the gloves?” Quinn felt him rubbing her hand with his fingers.

  “I don’t want my hands to get dirty,” she replied with a seductive tone.

  “Mmm. That’s hot,” he said.

  She had him.

  “I love those plump red lips,” he continued. “How’s about a BJ? How much for that?”

  “How much do you usually pay?” Quinn asked as she lightly bit her lower lip.

  “Twenty dollars,” Rob replied. “But if it’s good, I’m a generous tipper.”

  “Okay,” Quinn replied in a whisper.

  Rob unzipped his pants and presented himself. He placed his hand behind her neck and pushed her head down, and she began to lick and suck.

  Rob moaned softly as she engulfed him in her mouth, and she peeked upward, using her left peripheral. Rob was resting his head back in the driver’s seat, and his cleanly shaved chin was all she could make out of the silhouette that lingered over her. She used her hands to massage him as she continued. She could tell his eyes were closed as he briefly leaned forward, exposing his face to her view. This was her chance.

  She reached into the waistband of her skirt and pulled out a lock-back knife that was ready to use. She took the knife and forcefully shoved it under Rob’s chin, penetrating his flesh with all her strength. She then yanked the knife out, exposing a bloodied mess.

  Rob tried to scream as blood gushed from his mouth onto the steering wheel, windshield, and her. He was rocking back and forth, struggling to breathe as he pawed at the
gaping wound. Quinn grabbed his hair and pulled his head back onto the driver’s seat. Then, she pierced his throat with the knife, and with a heavy hand pulled it back, splitting him open.

  As Rob choked on the blood that spilled from his neck, she remembered to get a trinket to prove she had killed him. But what? There. The ring on his pinky finger that was now covered in blood. Quinn quickly snatched the now dead man’s hand and removed the bloody gold ring. She grabbed the money on the dashboard and reached around back for her tote. She exited the car and darted out of the alley, focusing on the loud click clack coming from her pumps as she pounded the concrete. During her sprint, she ripped off a piece of her crop top, using it to wipe as much blood from her face as possible.

  The next phase of the plan was to change clothes. Quinn stopped a few alleys away, crouching next to a dumpster. There she removed the bloody clothes from her body and put on a yellow T-shirt, a pair of black cargo shorts, and some old tennis shoes. After tucking the roll of money and bloody pinky ring into her pocket, she stuffed her bloody clothes and pumps into the tote and buried it inside the dumpster, fighting the urge to vomit from the smell. Quinn made her way down the alley, burying her gloved hands in her pockets. A few miles away from the murder scene, she dumped the gloves and knife into a storm sewer.

  Now all she had to do was get back to Phil.

  *

  Sara was confident that Phil’s plan would work as he’d run through it with her several times. Now she was off to execute it. Phil supplied a black drawstring backpack that was equipped with a pistol with a silencer fastened to it and an LED flashlight. She was tasked with finding the proper attire.

  Her twin brother, Sean, had everything she needed at his home, including some of her clothes that she stored in one of the bedrooms. The timing couldn’t’ve been more perfect because Sean was out of town at a hunting convention, leaving her to babysit his small ranch-style house and use his Prius.

  She opened a black garbage bag full of her clothes and dug around until she found a pair of black leggings and a black T-shirt. She made her way down to the closet in the hallway and grabbed a black slimming jacket that hung on the railing in the midst of camouflage hunting gear. She also grabbed a pair of black leather gloves and a black cotton skully hat.

  Thank God Sean is just as short as I am.

  Every inch of her body was covered in black attire. Even her platinum blonde hair was fully covered by the skully, which she’d wrapped around her head and held in place with bobby pins she fished out of her purse. She shoved her small feet into a pair of all-black tennis shoes, which she left at her brother’s home for mornings she wanted to go for a jog after they had breakfast together. It amused her that she’d only chosen that color because they were on sale, but now they were aiding her in her task.

  After locking the house up, she looked at her watch. 11:23 PM. She took a deep breath, shoved the keys in the ignition of the hybrid, and made her way to her destination.

  Sara parked Sean’s car behind an apartment complex that was a mile away from her destination, something Phil had instructed her to do.

  Phil had laid out the middle-class neighborhood with perfection for Sara, which was expected. He’d lived there for a long time, so he knew his neighbors’ schedules. Most of them were elderly or young families, meaning that 1:00 AM was a dead hour. The lack of street lights made it even easier for Sara to hug the shadows as she lurked through the unsuspecting subdivision. She sprinted towards the brick colonial, blending in with the evening as a night jogger would.

  Sara crept up the dark driveway, looking for the points of entry Phil described to her. She veered over to the garage door, which was hidden behind a few untamed bushes tall enough to hide her petite figure, and turned the knob. It was locked.

  Shit.

  But she didn’t panic because that was only one of the three places he told her to try. She proceeded to the kitchen door, but it, too, was locked. Then she saw the kitchen window with the outer screen slightly ajar. She used the garbage can to lift herself up to the window and pushed the screen up. Then, she reached in and secured her fingers against the window pane. She pushed upward and was rewarded with a swift movement. She lifted it enough to give her room to slip inside. Once in, she hopped over the garbage bin sitting underneath the window and beside the kitchen door, which led to the backyard. She pulled the screen down to where it was before and closed the window, leaving it unlocked.

  Sara glided through the kitchen and into the hallway, which led to the living room and a marble foyer. Everything was white, marble, and glass and gleamed in the dark. She was instantly taken back to the nights she’d met Phil there. The memories of having sex in every room with him at one time or another made her hot, and the fact that she was there to kill Lana made her even more aroused.

  Sara smiled to herself as she climbed the stairs and entered the master bedroom. She looked around the room, a place where she and Phil had participated in some sick sex acts. There was the California king-sized bed with a black headboard covered in mirrors, where she had studied her face as Phil pounded her from behind. And the vanity that sat next to the master bathroom with a huge mirror and a blue suede chair pushed up against it. She had used it to fix her make-up and work clothes before heading back to the strip club once she and Phil were done. She chuckled and reminded herself to get moving. Stay focused.

  Although Lana wouldn’t get home for a couple of hours, Phil had urged her to be in position early. He didn’t want any screw-ups; that was why he’d chosen Sara to get the job done. She headed for the walk-in closet; the door was open and the light was on. She studied the clothes inside. The L-shaped clothes rack was full of women’s clothing, none of Phil’s. Off to the right was a metal shoe rack that was empty. His shoe rack. Sara looked up at the ceiling and saw the entrance to the attic, exactly where Phil said it would be. Judging by the size of the entrance, it was probably the type of attic you could only crawl in. She smiled; her small size worked in her favor most times and this time, it worked out for Phil.

  That’s why he sent me here. Sara had been wondering why Phil didn’t just kill Lana himself, and now found herself facing the answer. It’ll be faster, cleaner, and easier for me to do it.

  Sara climbed onto the top shelf of the shoe rack and with a few nudges, she forced the entrance open. She stuck her head through the entrance, noting how dusty and abandoned the attic was. The dark space was coated in pink insulation and nothing more.

  Sara pulled herself into the space and replaced the door. She reached into the drawstring backpack and pulled out the flashlight, placed the end of it in her mouth, and shined it on her torso as she lifted the fitted black jacket up over her breasts. She ripped a piece of her T-shirt and stretched it out, fashioning a face mask out of the fabric, which she carefully wrapped around her nose and mouth. She couldn’t afford to be sneezing because of the dust-riddled air. Once done, Sara scanned the attic. Without much thought, she decided to plant herself near the entrance. If she were to make a sound, it would go unnoticed because she was positioned over the walk-in closet, and who would hang out in there? She replaced the flashlight in the drawstring backpack and waited.

  Two hours went by with Sara remaining perfectly still, as if she were frozen in time. She listened as Lana entered the home and moved around the bedroom below. She heard Lana on the phone in the master bedroom with her sister? Mom? Whoever it was, she heard her sobbing and talking about how much she hated Phil. After a little while, around 4:30, the house had grown quiet. Sara knew it was time for her to make her move, as Phil made her aware that Lana usually passed out around 4:00 AM. She listened closely, making sure she couldn’t pick up anymore movement. There was only silence.

  Time to go.

  Sara placed her hands on the opposite sides of the crawlspace door and moved it over to the side, creating the opening into the walk-in closet below. She saw that the closet door was closed and the light was off. She allowed her eyes to adjust eno
ugh to make out the metallic silver of the shoe rack, but it wasn’t enough for her to hop down safely. She opened the backpack and removed the flashlight. Slowly and gently, she switched it on and shined it into the closet beneath her. She placed the end of it in her mouth, placed her legs through the entrance, and used her hands and arm strength to lower herself. Still flashing the light on the shoe rack, she landed on the top shelf, careful not to slip and stumble off. She secured her footing and flashed the light up on the entrance, then pulled the wooden slab back into place. She hopped down to the floor as quiet as a cat and turned the flashlight off, swapping it for the pistol with the silencer. After she slung the backpack on her back, she lifted the pistol. If she was mistaken about Lana being asleep, it didn’t matter, she could still just shoot her.

  Sara slid the closet door open, enough for her petite figure to creep out, and made her way to the bed. She aimed the pistol at Lana, who laid there restlessly, as it was clear the woman had cried herself to sleep. Sara aimed the pistol and pulled the trigger. The close-range shot sent the bullet between Lana’s eyes, leaving a distinctive small hole as it smashed through her skull. Blood began to soak the pillow beneath her head.

  Sara searched the lifeless body for a trinket to take back, as per Phil’s request. Failing to find anything and wasting time, she snatched the pillow from underneath Lana’s head and removed the bloody pillowcase. She stuffed it into her backpack along with the pistol and tossed the pillow over Lana’s face.

  Sara briskly left the room, continuing towards the stairs, making her way to the kitchen. She opened the back door, which sat next to the window she had entered earlier, careful to lock the door from the inside, and closed it behind her. Sara hugged the shadows as she jogged out to the front of the house and down the sidewalk, blending into the night with her all-black attire. She was relieved to be outside again. Sitting in the attic waiting to strike was the most nerve-wracking thing she had ever experienced.

  Back in Sean’s car, she couldn’t help but feel like something heavy weighed on her. Electrifying waves of adrenaline shook her. Aside from running for a mile as if someone was chasing her, she couldn’t believe what she had just done. Did she really just kill someone she didn’t know? Could she get away with murder? Then she thought of Phil, and a major sense of accomplishment took hold. Phil would never put her in harm’s way. Would he?