Chapter 9

NINE

Slamming the door behind me, both my hands curl into tight fists.

She’s trouble. Unhinged with obvious baggage for days kind of trouble, yet I can’t get enough. No matter how crass or insulting or straight-up bratty she is, it makes me want to pursue her more. I don’t understand how someone so fucking beautiful can be so infuriating all in the same breath. Every time she walks into this house, it’s as if she’s on a mission to toy with me. If it isn’t spewing condescending jabs at me, it’s written all over her face. She and I both know it’s only a matter of time before she grows bored of my brother. I meant it when I told her that my room is always available for her, I just hope she takes me up on the offer sooner than later because the self-control I have to not take her from Brett’s room and into mine is dwindling by the day.

I turn around, trying to see if I can see her from the glass by the front door, but she’s gone. Frustration knocks at my temples, making me want to roll another joint and blow off some steam, but I don’t have the patience for that right now. She has me so fucked up that even my favorite stress reliever feels like it requires more brain energy than I’m capable of at the moment. Whatever, I guess I’ll have another beer or two and call it a night.

As I pivot my steps, moving past the foyer towards the kitchen, a small orb of red-light flashes in my periphery. I pause, angling my head in the direction of the control panel in the hallway that houses the alarm and the surveillance systems for the interior and exterior of the house. Again, the red-light flashes, drawing my attention to the message on the screen of the control panel.

Interior cameras down.

“Of course,” I mutter to myself. Brett probably forgot to reset the cameras after the power outage we had the other day. My brother is nothing short of a moron. Before dad got arrested, knowing that jail time was on the horizon, he signed the company over to Brett, not wanting the family business to crumble in his absence. Despite Brett being the main name under the Cromwell Corp, he can barely tie his shoes without guidance, so of course a simple task like resetting the security system is too much for him. Dad was oddly adamant before he got arrested that we have surveillance on all parts of the house at all times, so I guess it’s up to me to make sure those wishes are fulfilled since Brett can’t.

I punch in the reset code so the cameras can go back online, which usually works, but seconds after the code is entered and I’m a few steps closer to the kitchen, the alarm beeps.

“System failure,” the robotic voice of the alarm spews.

Son of a bitch. All I wanted was a fucking beer and to relax and now this shit is acting up. I scoff, pivoting my feet yet again to the control panel, and try the code once more. This time there is no delay in beeping, it immediately spews out “system failure.”

Forgetting the beer, I move to the staircase so I can head up to the control room and see what’s going on with the security system. Moving past my and Brett’s bedrooms, I walk down the long upstairs hall, rounding the corner by the library. I’m a few feet from the security room when I notice that the door is ajar, with something red wedged between the molding and the edge of the door.

Quickening my pace, I bend down to retrieve it and my skin is met with an eerie swarm of goosebumps as déjà vu assaults me. The red object in my hand transports me to the night when mom died, and I saw the person in the bushes wearing something red on their face. Something that–as I’m staring at the half devil’s mask clenched tight in my fist–looked a hell of a lot like this.

I debate calling Brett over, but first I need to see if I can pull up any of the backup footage to figure out if there’s an explanation for how this mask got here. Slipping the mask in the small back pocket of my sweatpants, I look over my shoulder before skating my palm to the waistband holster that I keep my pistol in when I’m home.

Fuck, I really could have used that second blunt right now, because my nerves feel shot. As if Sally didn’t already do a number on them from before. Pushing myself to work through the anxiousness that is suffocating my mind, making my limbs tingle and my body feel like it’s floating, I use the tip of the barrel to push open the door.

Anticipation mounts as the door swings open in what feels like slow motion. Ready for whoever is in the security room, I brace myself, but all I’m met with is the array of monitors, all on a continuous live stream loop, except for the one for this side of the house.

Pistol still in hand, I move to the chair centered amongst the sea of surveillance screens so I can reset the system. I move the toggle for the east wing surveillance and a loading icon appears on the monitor that was just blank, reading ‘backup data loading’.

I sit and wait for the backup data to generate, hoping it will have captured some footage before the cameras went down. A few minutes pass and a prompt for “syncing offline data” appears. I click on it, waiting with bated breath as the grainy footage loads.

It’s time-stamped from about an hour ago, but nothing stands out. The hallway is empty, and all the doors are closed. I’m just about to fast forward when I pause it. My view is on Sally from earlier as she emerges from Brett’s room. Anger resurfaces thinking of the way she purposely sucked him off forcing me to watch. Even more anger surfaces when I think of how easily I fell into her trap, and how I pathetically stood there watching her tease me into oblivion. I hate seeing her with him or anyone for that matter that isn’t me. Which is fucking stupid because she’s given me nothing to hold onto and yet, I cling to every manipulating and immature thing she does, just so I can feel closer to her even if it’s all a lie.

I click play, zooming in on where she stands in the hallway, and I can’t help but notice how she looks like she’s seen a ghost. The confidence she usually has draped over her has vanished and in its place appears to be mild apprehension. Narrowing my suspicious eyes, I study her and notice there’s something in her hand, but the footage is too grainy to tell what it is. I try zooming in more, but all I can see is a pixelated view of her placing whatever it is into her bra.

I zoom out, expecting her to move down the hallway to the staircase, but she pivots instead. I follow her movements until she stops at the library. She looks over her shoulder before opening the door and slipping into the room. Immediately I pause the footage and move to the library cameras. Rewinding the footage to align with the timestamp of her standing outside the library doors, I see her there with an uncharacteristically dumbfounded look on her face. Lowering my pistol onto the desk, my elbows fall on the tabletop as I watch her skim the endless shelves of books.

“What are you looking for, mama?” I mutter aloud.

Moving my hand to the control once more, I fast forward, skimming through until I see her reach for something. I resume the normal playback speed and watch her take a book from a nearby shelf. A mischievous grin spreads over her face when she begins to shake the book in hand.

Then she opens it and I realize it isn’t a book at all.

Zooming in, I watch her take two items from the box, slipping them into her bra before sneaking out of the library and back into the hall.

Jesus Christ, how much can she fit in that bra of hers when it’s already overflowing from those perky, full tits? My mind begins to race with images of her hand teasing the fabric of her dress in the dining room, sending blood to my cock. But the fact that I was right, that she was in a hurry because she took something that didn’t belong to her, overshadows the lust I feel.

I rise from the chair just as a thud sounds from outside the doorway. Grip locked on the pistol, I burst through the control room out into the hallway. The noise sounds again, softer than the first time, though this time it appears to be coming from the bedrooms.

Racing down the hall, I burst into my room first, inspecting it with caution as quickly as I can, but it’s clear. Moving out into the hall, I sprint towards Brett’s that shares a thin sheetrock wall with my own.

“Brett!” I shout, pounding my fist on the door, but there’s no answer. “Open up!” I shout again, but still no response. Lowering my hand to the door handle, I half expect it to be locked, but to my surprise it swings right open.

I go to step into the room, but my feet slip from beneath me as I trip over something solid. Mid tumble I look and see a disheveled Brett sprawled out on the floor with his fucking dick out.

“Jesus fucking Christ, what did she do to you?” I murmur as I crawl over to him. My hand glides to his neck, pressing two fingers onto his carotid to check that she didn’t fucking kill him. Despite my neutral feelings toward my brother, relief spreads through my lungs when I feel his pulse beating beneath my fingers.

I drag Brett onto his bed and begin to scan his room. I don’t even know what the fuck I’m looking for. Other than a bottle of whipped cream on the floor, nothing is out of place. Everything looks as it usually does. Minimalistic and dull… like him. I continue to look around when my nostrils are hit with a pungent aroma I can’t quite place. Suddenly the garter she was wearing, that peaked through when she stumbled by the staircase flashes in my mind. I didn’t think anything of it at first, assuming that whatever was trapped between the fabric was lipstick or something. But now, that I see Brett’s current state pairing that with how she was snooping around and, in a hurry, to get out of here, it’s fucking obvious she did this to him. I don’t need to get closer to know that whatever dripped onto the floor was used to knock him out.

Disbelief smacks me in the face. I mean I knew she was up to no good, but this? Poisoning my brother? After she sucked him off and had me fucking watch no less? She’s more sadistic than I even gave her credit for. And as inappropriate and delusional as it is, a part of me wonders if she spared me the same fate out of the kindness of her questionable heart, because she cares more than she’ll admit to.

Either way, this is a mess and I need to figure out what she took and how to proceed next.

My phone vibrates, pulling me from my thoughts.

It’s Maddox.

That was quick. He better have good news for me because I need to find her…now.

Swiping the answer bar across the screen, I bring the phone to my ear.

“Maddox,” I greet, already sensing something is off from the way he’s breathing into the phone.

“Hey,” he whispers. “I can’t talk long. I’m uh…I’m at a job but listen.”

My hand motions for him to continue even though he obviously can’t see it. “I’m listening, what’s up?”

“There’s no Sally Hardesty that matches the description you gave,” he deadpans.

“Are you sure? I can go through our surveillance and pull up her license plate to give you,” I begin, although it’s not lost on me how she usually drives here and tonight her eye sore of a car wasn’t in the driveway.

“No need. I already hacked into your surveillance system.”

Of course he did.

“And?” I urge.

“I got the license and vin number, gave it to my guy and as I expected, your Sally Hardesty begins and ends with the movie.”

“What movie?” I press.

“Texas Chainsaw. I told you. That’s the final girl from that movie. Fuck, dude, we need to get you watching horror movies and not all those stoner comedies you like.” Sensing the anger in the way I’m currently breathing into the phone, he thankfully continues. “I did find the address where the vehicle is registered and it was reported stolen by a woman who lives in Larchmont—excuse me, lived in Larchmont.”

“Lived? As in she moved or…”

Maddox cuts me off. “Lived as in past tense. I confirmed with Alex and the owner of the car Sally has been using, was single with a house in Larchmont and died of a heart attack.”

Fuck.

“Sorry man,” Maddox adds, but the disappointment, the anger, all of it, every damn emotion I could possibly feel in this moment, floods me.

“It’s fine,” I grit out through a tense jaw.

“I’ll let you know if I find out anything else,” he says before saying goodbye, but my attention is already drifting off to another place. Wondering who she is and why she lied.

Good evening, Channel 7 News.

Reports have come in of a green Honda CRV that was found at the bottom of Finkel’s Pond. No one was recovered from the vehicle, and it appears the license plate, as well as all identification sources, were destroyed. If you have any possible information that can identify who the vehicle belongs to, please call the number on the screen.

And in other news. Local real estate mogul and philanthropist Alistair Cromwell, who was indicted last spring for multiple counts of money laundering and fraud, was found dead earlier this evening in his cell in Otisville Correctional Facility in an apparent suicide but authorities are conducting an investigation.