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

by Tracie Podger

  “Is she alive?” I shouted.

  He shrugged his shoulders. “I don’t know, is the honest answer. She refused to do what she was tasked, Mich, that’s punishable.”

  His laughter echoed down the corridor as he walked back to his cell.

  I couldn’t stop the tears from running down my cheeks. I felt my body deflate, the fight leave me, and I slumped against Corey.

  “You need to go home, Mich,” he said. I didn’t have the energy to protest.

  “Before you do, someone better get me up to speed.” The chief had spoken.

  Corey and I followed him to his office. He gestured for us to close his door and he slumped down in his chair.

  “What the fuck is going on?” he asked.

  Corey and I sat opposite him. I let Corey explain.

  “Mich and I investigated a cult that was accused of sexual abuse, incest, murder, you name it, they were involved in it. Divinus Pueri…”

  “Divinus what?”

  “Divine Child. The founder of the cult was a member of the Catholic Church, Father Samuel. He found a woman and believed her to be an angel, he mated with her, produced offspring he believed were of divine, pure blood. It was his passage to his seat next to God, so he thought. We blew the cult open, it had to disband, disperse. We also blew open a covered up investigation within the Catholic Church. They’d known for a long time. Father Samuel ran a convent, he abused the children there, farming them out to families of the cult he set up. Thomas said something that has us thinking he is part of that cult.”

  Corey looked at me for confirmation. I nodded.

  “He also said that she refused to do what she was tasked, meaning Eddie. She was part of it too,” he added.

  “How the fuck have we gone from a serial killer to cults?” The chief shook his head.

  “The murders, we think, were done because those kids went to the house on Perry Street, regularly. They must have stumbled across something, or some of them did. He said they threatened to expose him, so he silenced them. Mich, and the situation in Canada, is kind of irrelevant here. This is about us shutting down the cult.”

  “And did you? Shut it down?” the chief asked.

  “By the time we’d gotten to their new destination, some of the elders were dead and the rest had fled. It’s a cold case that I work on, in my spare time,” I said.

  “He accused you of killing his father.” I hadn’t realized the chief had heard that. “Did you?”

  I didn’t answer and I guessed that was enough confirmation for him.

  “So you lied to me?” Again, I didn’t answer.

  The chief sighed; he ran one hand through his hair. “You’re suspended, Mich. I need your gun and your badge. And you need to leave the station.”

  “What will you do?” I asked.

  “I don’t honestly know yet.”

  The conversation was over. I stood; as I did, I placed a hand on Corey’s shoulder. He gave me a nod. I took the gun from my hip holster and released the clip. I laid both on the desk. I pulled the chain I wore around my neck from under my t-shirt and released the badge clipped to it. I laid that alongside the gun. I looked at it. That badge, being a cop, had been my life. I walked from his office and out the station.

  A chill ran over me as I stood beside my car. Dawn was about to break, orange streaked across the horizon as the sun fought against the dark sky to rise. I fished in my jean pocket for my keys and unlocked the door. I sat for a while, thinking. Thomas’ name had never come up in our investigation of the cult. I didn’t believe he’d been a long-term member, maybe he’d found solace in their arms. Maybe he’d found the family he was so desperate for within their sick embrace. He’d certainly found some kindred spirits.

  I should have headed straight to bed, my body was shaking with sleep deprivation; my mind had other ideas though. Thoughts cascaded through my head. Everywhere I looked, I saw her: the clothes on the chair, her backpack in the hall. I grabbed the backpack and emptied its contents on the kitchen table. She had a small revolver; I cursed her. It was pretty useless in a backpack. I picked up what looked like a journal. A leather bound book held closed by an elastic strap. My fingers played with the elastic, pinging it against the cover. Should I open it? Normally, as part of an investigation, I would but I wasn’t on the team anymore. I should have handed in the backpack. Instead I opened the book. I flicked through page after page of notes, some detailing cases, some forming a diary of sorts but there was nothing personal, nothing useful. There was also no order to it. It was as if she picked a page and wrote. Nothing was dated. Eddie didn’t have the neatest of handwriting and I struggled to read some things. I closed the book and placed it to one side.

  I knew Dean had visited her house, I wondered if he’d found any more. I decided to send him a text.

  Hi, suspended right now but I have Eddie’s backpack, there’s a notebook in it. Don’t know if you found any more at her house.

  He replied. I heard, sorry dude. I’ll come visit after my shift. Thomas is still in his cell but I’m heading home for an hour.

  I pulled the folder with the Gabriel cold case in it toward me. I’d read those notes time and time again, I knew what was written and could recall most of it from memory. I wanted to take myself back to those days. I knew that Corey would try to extract as much information on the cult as possible from Thomas; perhaps in doing so we would learn something new. We. I had to remind myself, there was no we.

  I guess I would receive some kind of official notification of my suspension at some point. In the meantime, I’d do my own investigating.

  I grabbed a pencil and a pad and I wrote. For hours I wrote everything I could remember about the case. I highlighted areas I wanted to come back to. I stopped briefly to refresh my coffee mug. Before I realized, it was midday and my eyes stung, my wrist ached, and my stomach grumbled protesting about the snacks I’d been surviving on for a few days. I was too tired to cook a meal. Instead I headed to the bedroom. I pulled the t-shirt over my head and fell onto the bed.

  The window rattled in its frame. I bolted upright and listened. The room was dark and I took a glance at my watch. Shit, it was past ten p.m. I’d slept for fucking hours. Someone tapped on the window; I guessed that was the noise that had woken me. I swung my legs from the bed and turned on the bedside lamp. Dean stood outside my bedroom.

  “Why didn’t you just use the fucking key?” I asked, as I opened the front door. “You nearly gave me a heart attack.”

  “There is no spare key,” he said. I took a look in the hanging plant pot.

  “That’s how Thomas got in then,” I said, mentally kicking myself for not checking before. Now I’d need to get the locks changed, again.

  “Coffee?” Dean said, walking straight through to the kitchen.

  “Yep. What’s happening?” I asked. I hated that I was away from the station, and, more importantly, news.

  “We pulled Thomas out for another round of questioning. He refuses to talk about Eddie or the cult. In fact, we think he slipped up by mentioning the cult, an impulsive moment maybe.”

  “What’s your gut telling you?” I asked, as I grabbed my mug from the counter and sat at the table. I cleared a space, pushing all the papers to one side.

  “They have her,” he replied, bluntly.

  My chin dropped to my chest and I sighed. “Tell me about this cult,” Dean asked.

  I gave him the same details Corey told the chief. “It’s recorded as one of the nastiest cults at the FBI. The level of child abuse, incest, fucking inbreeding, is off the scale, Dean. They move around, a lot. The investigation into them is one of the longest on record.”

  “No one got charged?” he asked.

  I shook my head. “By the time we got involved, half of the elders were dead, the victims wouldn’t speak out, and they’d moved on again. We spent a year just chasing our tails. We don’t know exactly how widespread they are, but they’re not just confined to one state.”

 
“And this guy, Gabriel, he was involved?” Dean tapped the edge of the folder.

  “Yes. Not in the cult, they killed his wife. I think I might pay him a visit.”

  “How do you think Eddie was involved?”

  “Thomas said she’d refused to do the task set. I need to know if she was born into the cult, kidnapped in as a child, they did that sometimes, or married in even. Somehow she got out, which is a good thing. There is something else, though. Pretty much all the girls, women, were sexually abused. There are some things about Eddie that make sense, now that I think about it.”

  “Fuck! Her reason to not commit?”

  “I thought it might have been her heart condition shortening her life but maybe not.”

  I didn’t want to go into detail. Eddie could only come when our fucking was aggressive, when I took control. She was a loner, didn’t court company. I’d been to her house a few times but never overnight, she always opted to stay at mine. Was that because she could have been abused?

  “I don’t believe Thomas has been a long-term member of the cult, his name doesn’t come up anywhere in that file. Well, the name we know him by, of course. And there’s no mention anywhere of the cult being in Canada. I wonder if it’s a recent thing for him…Shit!”

  I grabbed the folder and flicked through. I pulled out a photograph of one of the elders.

  “Check his forearms, look for this,” I said, pushing the photograph toward Dean.

  “What is it, other than the obvious?”

  “Part of their initiation is to carve a cross into the underside of their wrist. They bleed over the girls as they fuck them. If he has that, he’s involved for sure. They call the uninitiated, trainees.”

  “Do any of the others have a tattoo?” Thomas had the strange tattoo on his arm.

  “I don’t know, you need to ask him about that, but then we hadn’t caught up with any other trainees.”

  Maybe the tattoo was something to do with the cult, it was a symbol; I’d thought it was Celtic when I’d first seen it.

  “Okay, I better get going. And you don’t need to ask; Corey knows I’m keeping you updated. We’re releasing his name tomorrow, the press knows we have someone, his name has, unofficially, been spread around, and they also know you’re not on the case anymore, so be prepared.”

  I walked Dean to the front door. “Thank you,” I said. He gave a wave over his shoulder as he headed for his car.

  I needed a shower and to eat. I couldn’t decide in which order. I headed to the kitchen first and opened the fridge door. It contained very little. I guess a trip to the store in the morning was in order. I grabbed a carton of milk and took a sniff. It would do. I pulled a bowl from the cupboard and filled it with slightly soft cereal. I sat at the kitchen table and ate, drank another cup of coffee, and then headed for a shower. Not before checking every lock, window, and door.

  I slid between the cotton sheets and turned onto my side. I could smell Eddie on the pillow she’d rested her head on. When I closed my eyes, I could picture her face. That brief moment after sex when she let her guard down and gave me a heartbreaking smile. A smile that said, maybe, she’d survive, again. A smile that said, maybe, her defenses were coming down, brick by brick, slowly, but coming down all the same. Then the horror of what she could be going through flooded my mind. I’d seen the reports; I knew the abuse the women, the children, in that cult suffered.

  A tear leaked from my eye, absorbed by the pillow. “Fight to the death, baby,” I whispered.

  Knowing what I did, despite how little that was, death would be preferable than a lifetime of abuse for Eddie, I was sure of that.

  My cell was too warm, intentionally I imagined. The uppers were starting to wear off and my body was growing tired. I fought against it. I wondered how Eddie was faring. I’d handed her over as soon as I’d left the bunker, but I missed her. I’d get punished for fucking her, I was sure of that. I liked being punished. I liked the sting of a whip or a belt as it bit into my skin. I remembered the wooden cross and the slap across my ass I’d receive from my father. I especially remembered the ‘special’ punishments. The times I had to remove my clothes and bend over the back of the sofa. The skin on my ass cheeks tingled as I recalled how he would part them. Despite knowing there was a camera in the room, I slid my hand down the front of my pants and cupped my hardened cock. I fisted myself, gently at first. I smiled. My stomach clenched with need and sweat beaded on my forehead. I bit down hard on my lower lip as a moan traveled from the pit of my stomach, sparked by memories buried deep within me. As I came, I dug my nails into my cock, adding a little sting to the pleasure coursing through my body. I wiped the cum on the threadbare sheet I lay on.

  I wouldn’t tell them about my father, I wouldn’t allow them to use that as a reason for my depravity. Was I depraved? The fact the word had sprung to mind, surprised me. However, I wasn’t going to allow my father to take this away from me. What I did, what I’d agreed to when I’d moved back home was all on me. I made the decision to spend two years watching Mich. I made the decision to allow the elders to manipulate me in their quest for revenge. They played on my desire to bring my brother to his knees. They played on the fact that my mother had abandoned me because she wanted to leave the cult. Did she have a choice? I didn’t know. Maybe she was forced to give me up to my father, a man so controlling she might not have had a choice. But she didn’t fight. She didn’t come and get me when she could.

  The cult was after two people, they hadn’t quite gotten them but they would, soon.

  You see, that was one thing that made me chuckle. People thought they were manipulating me but they weren’t. I allowed them to believe that for one reason only. I was achieving my goal, knowing I had the backing of something powerful. When this was all over, I had protection.

  I had a lawyer lined up; I’d chosen not to call him in because I was enjoying my time in the police cell. I had my own agenda, my own fantasy to fulfil before I got back on the track I’d been told to stay on. I’d deviated, I’d angered, I’d changed the plan, many times. I was in control.

  I tried to calculate how many hours I’d been held. They would have to charge me soon, but did they have enough? I’d confessed, I’d confused. I hadn’t left a shred of evidence on any of the bodies and that was thanks to Dan and the remarkable medical kit that he carried in his vehicle. Poor Dan. I regretted killing him but, as I told Corey, he was a loose end that needed tying up. He’d wanted in with the cult, I guess he’d just wanted the opportunity to fuck endlessly. I laughed out loud as I recalled an incident in the morgue. A pretty young girl had been brought in. Well, I say pretty, her face was beaten up as she’d traveled through the windshield of her car. We weren’t interested in her face, just her pussy. Dan had insisted any ‘play’ was after the autopsy, of course. Wise Dan. I’d miss him.

  Sunlight shone through the sheer drapes into the bedroom. I let go of the pillow I’d been hugging in my sleep, my face buried in her scent. My body ached, despite the hours of sleep. I swung my legs to the edge of the bed. My feet connected with the chilly wooden floor. I welcomed the cold; it woke me up. At some point during the night I’d formulated a plan.

  I dragged on a clean pair of jeans and a plain white t-shirt. I tucked the silver chain beneath it, missing the feel of my badge. The chain had belonged to my father, he’d worn it every day of his life, and on his death; my mother had given it to me. It once held a small St. Christopher medallion, which had been lost many years ago. Maybe, when this was all over, I’d replace it.

  I grabbed the coffee pot and filled it with cold water, ground some beans and set the machine to on. I sat at the kitchen table while I waited. I wanted to get into the mind of Thomas, and to do that I wanted to spend time in his house. I wasn’t sure if it was still under guard, I imagined so and could only hope my suspension hadn’t been made public.

  When the coffee machine gurgled out the last drops of hot coffee, I poured it into a travel mug. I didn’t wa
nt to waste any more time sitting around. I grabbed my car keys, Eddie’s gun, and left the house. The fact I had a visible gun in a holster, I hoped, would give whoever was guarding the house the idea I was still on the case. If not, I’d have to come up with a plausible reason to gain access.

  The house came into view as I bumped along the unmaintained driveway. I was thankful not see a police car, although the house was still taped up. Perhaps, whoever should have been there was taking a break; maybe it was shift change. I parked and left my car. I pulled the tape off the door and tested the handle. The door was locked. I made my way around the side of the house and to the backyard. Breaking and entering was probably the least of my current worries as I searched for something to smash the glass in at the back door. I’d been told Thomas had pretty much lived in the kitchen and a bedroom. It was the living room I headed for first.

  I stood in the middle of the room, some of the furniture had been removed for analysis, but it was like stepping back in time. I wandered over to the fireplace and stared at the old picture. It had hung over the mantel when my mother was alive. I reached up and pulled it from its hook. I’d hated that picture. I flipped it over and read the inscription. It was a note from my mother to my father, declaring her love and begging his forgiveness. The first time I’d read that I hadn’t understood what it meant; now I thought I knew. Had she had an affair? I wasn’t sure. She never spoke about my father after he’d died.

  I placed the picture on the floor, leaning against the wall. The chair that my mother had been sitting in was gone, but there were four clean squares on a dusty floor where it had once stood. I stared at the space. She had been a good mother to me. Always had a smile ready, a kiss to soothe a bruise. She was kind and gentle. I vaguely remembered her parents, stern and upright, scary and unloving. I was thankful she hadn’t taken after them. I couldn’t believe she’d willingly give up a child, regardless of how he came to be. She didn’t have that in her. The trouble was, there was no one left alive that could answer the question.