Sinless by Sarah Tarkoff

Author:Sarah Tarkoff
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: HarperCollins
Published: 2018-01-09T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter 12

I still wasn’t used to being afraid of people. As Clint and Rowena closed in on me, the voice in my head still insisted, They can’t hurt you. Great Spirit will Punish them. But I had to quiet that voice and remind myself . . . it wasn’t about Great Spirit, it was about guilt. If Clint felt that he was justified in his actions, that I was a member of some evil organization that had taken his child, who knew what he might be capable of doing. I also wondered about the effects of alcohol . . . did that change the intensity of guilt one felt—was that why Clint’s face changed? Until, like the pills, it wore off. Was that why it was Prohibited? Like Xanax, was it another way to change your brain chemistry, avoid Punishment? If Clint had been defending Ciaran his whole life, covering up his other near rapes, or worse . . . maybe drinking was the way he got through the morally questionable things he’d surely had to do?

Of course, all this flashed through my head in an instant of sheer terror. “Please, I’ve told you everything I know,” I said.

“So you say our son is dead,” Clint said, voice slurring a little as he took the pack of cigarettes from a wary Rowena.

“Yes,” I said, “I’m so sorry . . .”

“Why didn’t you call the police?”

“I did call the police,” I said. “They didn’t do anything.”

“And you didn’t think to contact us. Let us know our child was dead.” Clint seemed genuinely upset about this point.

“I’m sorry, I know I should have. I was afraid. I didn’t know what was happening. If the police didn’t believe me, why would you?”

Clint flicked his lighter on and held a cigarette to the flame. He removed it very slowly, his eyes never straying from mine. “Tell us about this man. This murderer.”

“He’s not dead. She’s lying,” Rowena cut in.

“Let her tell us her story,” Clint said. “Now, Grace—where is Ciaran?”

“He’s dead,” I said, my voice trembling with fear. “I’m so sorry, I should have told you . . .”

He lowered the cigarette to the inner crook of my elbow. Paused. “Are you sure? Are you sure that’s what happened?”

I stared at that smoking little weapon. Saw in Clint’s eyes that he meant to use it. I realized I’d made a strategic error—if they believed I was responsible for what had happened to Ciaran, and I convinced them he was dead, that made me his murderer, in their eyes. Even the most kindhearted parent would be brutal to their child’s murderer. Unless I backtracked and convinced them Ciaran wasn’t dead at all. I squeaked out, “I wasn’t that close. I didn’t see for sure. Maybe he’s still alive. He could still be alive.”

I looked desperately at Rowena, who was staring at Clint, brimming with renewed hope. “See?”

“He’s dead, he’s alive, you can’t make up your mind, can you?” But I could see the hope flitting through Clint’s eyes as well.

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