Captured In Sin

by Devlin Chase

  ***

  The restaurant was noisy, filled with laughter and screaming kids, and Cat considered phoning Frankie and telling him that she had to work late. But, as she stood in the doorway, she could already see him sitting in a booth in the smoking section.

  Before she could even reach for her phone he’d raised his head, as if he knew she’d arrived. His dark eyes met hers and he raised a hand in greeting before it returned to curl around the glass in front of him.

  Great, Cat thought as she plastered a smile across her face and returned his wave. No getting out of it now. She slipped into the glass walled room and tossed her handbag onto the vinyl bench before sliding into the booth. Eager fingers rummaged in the bag and pulled out a crumpled package of cigarettes. She lit the smoke and exhaled with a sigh of satisfaction before turning a wide smile toward the man seated across from her.

  He’d lost more weight, she noticed immediately, seeing how his black t-shirt hung from his shoulders.

  Frankie had always been robust, stocky across the chest despite his height. Now he looked leaner; his body enhancing the darkness that shadowed his eyes; eyes which tonight looked more haunted than sad.

  It’s just the damn lights in this place, Cat thought to herself, nothing more.

  Despite all the drama in her life, Frankie had always been the one person she could rely on beside herself. He’d always been there for her, even when circumstances had forced them apart.

  But, as he lifted his beer and smiled around the glass, she could see that it no longer reached his eyes and her own smile faltered.

  “Hey Cat,” he murmured as he set the glass down again.

  Brooding, Cat decided suddenly. That was the best way to describe her brother. Older than Cat by only a year he was, at twenty six, one of those darkly handsome men who attracted people looking for a little danger in their lives. Or, at least, that’s how he appeared on the surface. His smooth, olive skin and jet black hair matched her own; a gift from their Italian mother. But, while Cat viewed the world through blue eyes, Frankie’s were such a dark shade of brown they seemed as black as his hair.

  Now, though, they looked bruised and tired; and she knew precisely why.

  “Hey yourself,” she whispered as she reached across the table to take his hand in hers.

  They sat in companionable silence for few minutes before a waiter arrived and Cat ordered two more beers.

  “How’ve you been?” She asked as soon as the waiter was out of earshot.

  Frankie’s only reply was to stare out over the crowded restaurant, his expression tense.

  “Okay, all things considered,” he finally replied as he faced her, his smile forced.

  The waiter returned with their drinks and asked if they’d like to order dinner. Cat replied that they’d probably order later, eliciting a look which implied he’d be serving drinks only and get a lousy tip, if anything at all.

  Frankie watched the waiter leave and then turned to Cat, his first genuine smile of the evening flitting around his lips.

  “That’s what you get when you wear only black, from head to toe.”

  “Look who’s talking,” Cat laughed, waving her hand at Frankie’s black long-sleeve t-shirt.

  “We look like we’re ready to hit the Goth clubs.”

  “Maybe we should,” Frankie murmured as he drained the last of his beer. “It’s been ages since we hung out together.”

  Cat nodded and stubbed out her cigarette, thinking of a response. It wasn’t that she didn’t want to hang out with Frankie; they always had a blast together at their favorite clubs. But she didn’t want to tell him what she was up to these days; or at least why her nights were occupied, leaving little time for clubbing.

  Luckily, Frankie’s attention was on his freshly poured beer, his expression serious as he raised his glass.

  “Here’s to the reason we’re here tonight,” he muttered, his voice thick with emotion.

  “To Mom and Dad.” He raised the glass to his lips.

  “May they rest in peace.”

  Cat felt tears blur her vision and covered her emotion by raising her own glass and taking a quick swallow of the icy beer. Then she set the glass back on the table, discreetly wiping a tear from the corner of her eye.

  Frankie was shaking his head.

  “I can’t believe it already been three years. It still feels the same as it did last year.”

  Cat could easily recall the last time they’d met to commemorate the date of their parent’s death. The emotion had still been too raw and they’d ended up horribly drunk at a pub near Frankie’s apartment. Much to her disgust later, she’d flung herself at the hottest looking guy in the place and woken up on her brother’s couch the next morning with a devastating hangover and a suddenly not-so-hot looking guy sprawled next to her. She didn’t think Frankie had hooked up with anyone that night but he’d been real quick to hustle first the still half-asleep guy and then his own sister out of the apartment.

  This year they’d decided to meet at a family restaurant to avoid any more embarrassing moments of debauchery.

  “I think it’s going to feel pretty raw for some time, babes. I mean, the way it happened…”

  She couldn’t finish, her thoughts instantly back to that day and Frankie’s call informing her that their mother was dead. It had torn into her; feelings of desolation mingled with guilt and shame when she realized that she hadn’t visited her mother for several months; the knowledge that the woman was a patient at a psychiatric hospital keeping her away.

  That guilt had lingered for a long time, overwhelming the anger she’d always felt toward Francine De Sano for abandoning her and choosing to take Frankie instead of her. Not that life with her father Thierry had been bad; but sometimes a girl just needed her mom.

  “You look like shit, big brother.” The words were said jokingly but the withering look Frankie threw her said volumes. He knew he looked exhausted and she wondered what was eating at him, besides the anniversary of their parent’s death.

  But Frankie had been a closed book for a long time and she knew better than to dig for answers. There would be none forthcoming; Frankie was like that.

  “How’s work?” Frankie was smiling weakly at her and Cat was grateful for his attempt at conversation.

  “Oh, about as boring as ever, I guess. It’s not much fun selling fantastic holidays when you can never get to go on one yourself.”

  The waiter brought another round of beers and Cat flashed him a quick smile, seeing the immediate spark of interest and wishing she hadn’t bothered. The last thing she had time for was a relationship; hell, the last time she’d had sex was with the gorgeous-by-the-fourth-shot guy this time last year, but who was counting?

  “You’re still going to school?”

  Frankie nodded but there was no animation in the movement. Clearly varsity was as interesting as the tourist trade. A silence developed between them, but it was a comfortable one. They’d always been close, even after their parent’s separation. They could spend months apart, without any correspondence, yet slip back into an easy friendship the moment they were together again. Neither needed to pry into the daily workings of the other’s life

  “How’s Odin?” Cat knew this was a question that would bring Frankie back into the conversation and she was right. His face brightened immediately at the mention of his cat.

  Odin was a bundle of grey fluff that Frankie had rescued when the kitten had fallen from a first floor balcony, literally landing on the pavement in front of him. He’d taken the injured creature to a nearby vet, refusing to accept the fact that the kitten would be best helped if it was put to sleep. Instead, he’d paid the bills as the kitten was operated on several times, finally bringing it home where it seemed content to live its life in the lap of luxury as his pet.

  Frankie adored the cat, naming it after the Norse god in deference to its sheer will to survive. To its credit, Odin had pulled through wonderfully, the only lingering effect of its
injuries being its stunted size. It was still hardly more than a scrap of grey fur and sky-blue eyes.

  “Ah, he’s ruling the roost now,” Frankie loosed his first real grin of the evening. “He’s even moved out of the shoe and onto the bed.”

  Cat smiled as she remembered the first time she’d seen the cat wriggle its way into one of Frankie’s sneakers. Turning and turning, the cat had finally settled into the shoe, little more than his fluffy ears poking out above the laces.

  Frankie’s smile was fading and Cat realized that there might be more on his mind than just the anniversary.

  “What’s up?” she asked softly.

  It took a long moment before Frankie spoke and she watched as a frown dug furrows into his smooth forehead.

  “Why do you think it happened?”

  It wasn’t the first time her brother had asked this question and Cat had no more of an answer for him tonight

  “I don’t know, babes,” she shook her head “I guess it’s just one of those freak things…” She never got a chance to finish her sentence. Frankie was already shaking his head.

  “But both of them? On the exact same day?”

  The anguish in his voice was plain, mirroring her own pain, making her shake her head. Just how freaky did things have to be for both your parents to die on the same day, within hours of each other, in separate accidents in two different cities. She’d even asked herself if there hadn’t been something going on, that neither she nor Frankie had been aware of, because it was just so damn…spooky.

  Of course there couldn’t have been any connection between the two accidents. Their parents had divorced when Cat and Frankie had been young, Thierry taking Cat to live in Pretoria while Frankie and Francine had remained in Johannesburg.

  Less than a hundred kilometers separated the two kids, but it might as well have been a million; Thierry and Francine hardly ever spoke and family occasions had been limited to birthdays and Christmas; where they would gather at some generic restaurant or coffee shop to exchange gifts and Cat and Frankie would try to catch up on everything since their last visit.

  Everything had changed, however, the day that Francine had been mugged and beaten, left for dead in the parking lot of a local shopping mall. Frankie had turned eighteen by then and had chosen to stay in Johannesburg as he helped nurse their mom back to health. But there had been little chance of a full recovery; the doctors said that she must have sustained a more severe head injury than they’d initially suspected, using the diagnosis as an excuse to explain the sudden change in the woman’s behavior. As her body healed, her mind seemed to fracture even further and, by the time she was ready to be discharged from the hospital it was only to take a ride across town to a different kind of hospital.

  Francine would never leave the psychiatric facility, her condition deteriorating to the point that she became suspicious even of Frankie, alternating between motherly love and outright hatred each time he visited.

  Frankie had never given up, visiting faithfully three times a week even as her illness unraveled her completely. He’d watched as she knelt in the corner, hands gripped tightly in front of her as she prayed to a god nobody could see; winced at the welts the doctors told him were self inflicted, using anything she could effectively get her hands on. And all the while he’d maintained his hope that she’d one day emerge from her self-imposed hell and see her son standing before her.

  But that day had never come.

  Francine had learned to steal the items she needed for her own self mutilation quickly and carefully. Nobody had suspected that she’d palmed a dinner knife carelessly left lying on the counter at the nurses’ station; nobody had thought to check her room for dangerous items that morning.

  And, before the bell rang for dinnertime, it was all over. She’d been found in her room, one arm tied to the metal railing on her bed. The damage she’d managed to inflict on herself was mind-numbing and Cat was sure those images still lingered in Frankie’s mind as he’d been the one to make the grisly discovery himself.

  His voice, when he’d finally tracked her down at work, had sounded hollow with shock. Cat’s tears had continued when she’d arrived home from work and seen the light flashing on her answering machine. There were three messages waiting for her and she’d assumed they were from Frankie.

  The first one was and fresh tears had stung her eyes as his somber voice asked her to call him if he hadn’t been able to reach her at work.

  The second was from a harried-sounding nurse who asked that Catherine De Sano call her back as soon as possible, rattling off a Johannesburg telephone number before the line abruptly went dead.

  She’d assumed it was about Francine, so the third message saw her sinking to her knees on the cold tiles as the voice of the same nurse regretfully informed her that a Mr. Thierry De Sano had been pronounced dead on arrival at the hospital that afternoon, having succumbed to injuries sustained in a car crash on the highway between Pretoria and Johannesburg. Would she please contact the hospital immediately? Again the same telephone number was given.

  Cat started as another bottle was placed in front of her. This time she didn’t bother smiling at the waiter before she pulled the bottle to her lips and took a long hard swallow. She found Frankie staring at her. His long black hair, loose around his face, made the shadows under his eyes even more pronounced and Cat mentally berated herself for even considering to put her foot on the path he would willingly drag her down.

  Instead she tried to lighten the conversation. “So, you seeing anyone these days?”

  Instantly Frankie’s expression closed as he realized she was changing the subject and steering him away from his morbid obsessions.

  “Who has the time?” he answered flippantly as he ran a hand through his hair.

  Touché, Cat thought with a smile, remembering how many times she’d answered the same question with the same words.

  Leaning back into the booth she regarded him solemnly. Frankie was more than a closed book, she realized.

  He was more like a lockable Dear Diary; one whose key had been misplaced under a pile of papers at the back of a drawer in the unused basement of an abandoned house.

  It’s going to be a long night, she thought as she flagged the waiter and ordered a cup of black coffee.

  Chapter 2

  The night air was bracingly crisp as Cat approached the house from the bushes lining the driveway. The moon, in a waning phase, cast only a meager glow over the property and she smiled as she scaled the short wall that bordered the front door.

  The buzz from the beers had worn off, thanks to the cups of coffee and the two headache pills she’d taken before leaving the restaurant.

  She’d watched Frankie from her car, seeing him slouch over to the VW Polo he’d bought when their mother’s life insurance had paid out. Once he’d pulled out of the parking lot she’d reached into her bag and pulled out her small diary.

  The address that had been printed neatly next to today’s date had led her here and, as she perched briefly on the wall she went over a mental checklist before slipping over to land silently on the other side.

  Jim and Carol Barnard were currently enjoying a well deserved holiday in Mauritius while their home was looked after by the lovely people at While You’re Away. Those same lovely people came to the house every second day to make sure the garden and house plants were watered, fish and birds were fed and maintained and any mail laying around was brought inside so that would-be thieves would have no idea that the homeowners were away.

  They did a good job too, Cat thought, as she moved quickly to the front door.

  It was just a pity that the Barnards had been so willing to pass on all their relevant information to the lovely travel agent who’d organized the house-watchers on their behalf, eagerly revealing that there was no alarm system as well as the fact that their beloved pooch, Casper, would be spending the duration of their holiday as a guest of the local pet boarding facility.

  The keys
they’d given her had been duped before being handed over to While You’re Away, and she used the duplicate key quickly to gain entry to what turned out to be charmingly decorated three bedroom family home.

  Only once she’d made sure that all the curtains were drawn did Cat turn on the small flashlight she carried and made a quick recon of the house.

  The wall safe was quick to find in the master bedroom’s built-in closet but she ignored it. Breaking and entering was one thing; safe-cracking was another thing entirely and not something she’d learnt her last year at high school.

  But there was more than enough to be found in other places the Barnard’s had thought were safe from prying eyes and it didn’t take long to accumulate a small pile of half decent jewelry and a surprising number of high-end cell phones. The two laptops she ignored.

  The electronic items were of little interest to her, but the guy she fenced the jewelry through was always pleased with what she brought him and paid well for them. The jewelry was what she was here for and, while the Barnards probably kept the really good stuff in their safe, it had been worth the trip out here tonight.

  As she made her way back to the front of the house she checked her watch. She’d been in the house for less than nine minutes.

  Pretty good, she thought to herself as she played the thin beam of the flashlight around the sitting room once more. Now all she needed was to find a few little things…

  The light came to rest on the collection of small figurines nestled into the corner of the entertainment wall unit and she stepped closer, picking up each item and turning it quickly in her hands. With a smile she pocketed two of the items before switching off the flashlight.

  As she relocked the door behind her she realized that the slight breeze that had rustled the tree branches on her arrival had died down. But, as she slipped over the wall and moved down the road, she felt uneasy.

  The night seemed to have died completely and she nearly laughed aloud as she thought the words. The night couldn’t die; she was just feeling jittery after too much coffee and a depressing occasion to meet with her brother. Yet she couldn’t shake the feeling that there was something wrong in the air around her. She paused, finding the shadow offered by a broad tree as she glanced up and down the dimly lit street.