Longing for sin, p.1
Longing for Sin, page 1
Longing for Sin
Touch of Evil - Book Two
Kennedy Layne
Kennedy Layne Publishing, Inc.
Copyright © 2022 by Kennedy Layne
Cover Designer: Sweet ’N Spicy Designs
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED: The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. Criminal copyright infringement is investigated by the FBI and is punishable by up to 5 years in federal prison and a fine of $250,000.
All characters and events in this book are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead is strictly coincidental.
Dedication
Jeffrey — Thank you for knowing exactly when I need the perfect cup of coffee! I love you!
Cole — Remember, you can do whatever you set your mind to!
Contents
About the Book
1. Chapter One
2. Chapter Two
3. Chapter Three
4. Chapter Four
5. Chapter Five
6. Chapter Six
7. Chapter Seven
8. Chapter Eight
9. Chapter Nine
10. Chapter Ten
11. Chapter Eleven
12. Chapter Twelve
13. Chapter Thirteen
14. Chapter Fourteen
15. Chapter Fifteen
16. Chapter Sixteen
17. Chapter Seventeen
18. Chapter Eighteen
19. Chapter Nineteen
20. Chapter Twenty
21. Chapter Twenty-One
22. Chapter Twenty-Two
23. Chapter Twenty-Three
24. Chapter Twenty-Four
25. Chapter Twenty-Five
26. Chapter Twenty-Six
27. Chapter Twenty-Seven
28. Chapter Twenty-Eight
29. Chapter Twenty-Nine
30. Chapter Thirty
31. Chapter Thirty-One
32. Chapter Thirty-Two
Also By
About the Author
About the Book
USA Today Bestselling Author Kennedy Layne continues the psychological thriller series that will have you redefining evil…
Brooklyn Sloane has left her job as a consultant for the FBI to take on her first cold case in the private sector. Doing so allows her the freedom to work the one case she’s never professionally been allowed to touch – a ruthless serial killer, who just so happens to be her own brother.
Privately, she’s hunting her only sibling, but alongside her team, she’s seeking justice for those without a voice. But there is always the anomaly…
Seven arrests. Seven trials. Seven closed cases.
Brook has discovered one thread that ties them all together. Soon, as the investigation begins to unravel, the evidence all points to one disturbing truth – the real serial killer has never stopped hunting innocent victims, planting evidence, and causing others to pay for his violent crimes. Unfortunately, he isn’t Brook’s only concern. As she divulges deeper into her brother’s reign of torment, she finds herself falling down a dark rabbit hole where she lands on a web of deceit. Who wins is unknown, for their chilling lies can make for very convincing truths.
Chapter One
Brooklyn Walsh
December 2000
Saturday — 01:29am
The two-story house was relatively quiet, but it wasn't a comfortable silence. There was an uneasiness that hung in the air that had become all too familiar over the past couple of years. The only discerning sound that drifted from the kitchen to the bottom of the staircase located in the short hallway was the loud hum of the refrigerator. The strange whine had only gotten louder throughout the week. It was as if the old model refrigerator was announcing its own forthcoming demise, screaming into the silence its appliance death song as it gave out after years of honest and faithful service.
Brook noiselessly stepped onto the hardwood floor as she stared intently at the front door, keeping ahold of the banister with her right hand. She'd heard her brother sneak out about two and a half hours ago, which had been right after their parents had gone to bed.
Jacob hadn't returned home since.
Where could he have gone so late at night?
It wasn't like he had any friends. There had been a time when he'd hung out with Scotty and Daryll, but they'd stopped coming around about the same time that her brother's demeanor had changed two years ago. She'd learned that word in English class, and she liked how it sounded in her head, but not when it was in relation to her brother.
Their parents had finally started to notice the changes in Jacob's life, but she'd overheard them talking one night a couple of months ago. They thought it was simply a phase that he was going through.
They couldn't have been more wrong.
So, so wrong.
Brook had promised her brother that she wouldn't say a word about the time that he'd come home with blood covering both of his hands. She hadn't been a rat then, and she wasn't a rat now. She'd kept their pinky swear, even though she'd known it was wrong to do so. She had also maintained hope that things would return to normal, but Jacob had kept pulling farther and farther away from everyone.
He had basically retreated into his own, lonely little world.
Sally had been the first of Brook's friends to notice that there was something wrong at home after Brook had kept coming up with excuses as to why they needed to stay overnight at her house. No matter how many times that Sally asked why, Brook had resorted to telling white lies and coming up with excuses.
At first, she'd said that her parents were fighting. One time, she'd even used the excuse that they had black mold in the bathroom after hearing something on the news about how it could cause some kind of sickness. Lately, Brook hadn't had to come up with any reason at all. Sally seemed to have given up on changing Brook's mind about where they spent their time when they had their sleepovers.
Brook yawned as she made her way into the kitchen.
It wasn't like Jacob was going to spontaneously turn back into the brother who used to laugh with her while watching sitcoms on Wednesday nights. He rarely even ate dinner at home, claiming that he was going to the library to study or do homework. He never needed to study anything, because he was the type of student who aced everything without so much as the slightest effort. To say that her brother was smart was like saying the Pope was Catholic. It was a monumental understatement. She often wondered exactly how gifted Jacob truly was, and that knowledge made her even more scared of him.
She, on the other hand, had to study for hours the night before for an exam to get a grade even remotely equal to his.
Unfortunately, she would be doing that tomorrow for this week's upcoming midterms they needed to complete before their Christmas vacation. She'd waited so long to say that she was in junior high school, and now she would have given anything to go back a few years when her brother had been himself and she wasn't forced to study so hard for an A- compared to his A+.
Brook couldn't help but shiver as she reached for a glass in the cupboard next to the sink. Her dad liked to set the thermostat a few degrees lower at night, which always meant that the kitchen tile was freezing and the handle on the sink was cold to the touch. It didn't help that there seemed to be a draft coming from the kitchen window.
She quickly filled her glass with water, wondering if she should have heated up some milk in their brand-new microwave. The beep might have awakened her parents, though. She would just hurry back upstairs and climb underneath the covers to chase the chill away.
"You should be in bed."
Brook swung around in surprise.
The glass that she'd been holding slipped from her hand and shattered upon hitting the tiled floor.
Jacob was standing next to the refrigerator. He was only fifteen years old and somehow had grown as tall as their dad. He had the same square jaw, brown wavy hair, and dark brown eyes, yet there was something missing in her brother that her father exuded with every smile…affection.
Maybe it was all emotions that Jacob lacked.
She wasn't quite sure.
The draft of cold air that had washed over her must have come from when Jacob had opened the front door. He wasn't wearing a winter hat, but he was holding a pair of black gloves in his right hand.
She'd been avoiding him lately, and this was the first time that they'd been alone in months. There was a secret part of her that wished her parents would come rushing downstairs to find out what all the commotion had been about, but Jacob didn't seem concerned in the least that they would appear.
"Don't move," Jacob instructed with what sounded more like disappointment than anger. He shrugged out of his winter jacket and tossed it toward one of the kitchen chairs. It slid to the floor, but it was far enough away that it wouldn't land on the shattered pieces of glass. "Back up onto the rug."
Brook wasn't sure why she listened to him, but she instinctively did as he directed so that she wouldn't cut her feet. She wrapped her arms around her abdomen as he began to pull on his black gloves. The light from underneath the microwave was always left on, and she could see that his cheeks were flushed red from the cold.
"Where were you?"
The question slipped out before she could stop it, but Jacob didn't even hesitate as he walked across the floor in his winter boots to the small closet next to the pantry. He grabbed the handheld brush and dustpan that their mother always had hanging on a nail that stuck out from the back of the door.
"You didn't go to the library earlier, either," Brook said as she leaned back against the sink. She wasn't sure why she continued to talk as if she wasn't afraid of the consequences. Maybe it was because he wasn't answering her questions. He'd all but ignored her as he flicked on the overhead light. Maybe it was the bright illumination that gave her the courage to continue to speak. "Sally said that her brother was there all evening studying for his upcoming SATs. He didn't see you."
Brook had really thought that Jacob would respond to her for calling him out on his lie, but he remained silent as he went about sweeping up the broken pieces of glass. She studied him while he concentrated on getting every razor-sharp shard into the dustpan.
There wasn't any blood on him like there had been the last time.
At least three minutes of screaming electronic silence had passed by before Jacob paid her any attention. Even then, he simply motioned toward the dishtowel that their mom always kept by the side of the sink. Brook warily reached behind her before handing him the blue towel.
She glanced toward the small hallway that served as her only avenue of escape. His reaction to help her clean up the mess had originally gotten her to relax a bit, but now she was debating with herself over whether or not this was some type of stalling tactic.
"Sally's brother was too busy staring at Pamela Murray's tits through her tight pink sweater to even notice that I was two tables over near the back," Jacob replied as he stood with the dustpan in his left hand. The towel and handheld broom were in his right. He tilted his head to the side as he studied her the way that she'd been doing to him. "Did you ever notice that they all think they have perfect, protected little lives?"
"What do you mean?"
Brook cautiously monitored him as he slowly walked back to the closet, which was where they kept the tall kitchen garbage can. His shocking description of Pamela had been practiced with ease, probably in an attempt to throw her off her questioning. He pressed on the black pedal near the bottom and then slowly dumped out the pieces of broken glass inside with a deliberate, smooth motion.
Was he telling the truth about Sally's brother?
There was no way to read Jacob's body language.
Sally had mentioned that Ben had a crush on Pamela Murray, which was the girl that Jacob had liked a couple of years back. He hadn't mentioned her recently, but then again, he didn't really talk to anyone in that fashion anymore.
"Sally and Pamela think the world revolves around them. Even Ben, but he's not worth my time." Jacob secured the handheld broom to the dustpan before hanging them both back up on the nail. "They all think they live these perfect little lives inside their tiny bubbles of personal vanities compared to the rest of us. Take your other friend, Marcie. She knows that life isn't perfect, doesn't she? She sees it. Feels it. She's awake. More people need to be like her."
Brook swallowed around the lump of fear in her throat.
Marcie had told her just the other day that her parents were constantly fighting over a divorce, her brother had gotten caught shoplifting a bottle of alcohol last month from the corner pharmacy, and that she was failing several of her classes. Brook and Sally were doing their best to try to help her with homework, but Marcie was just too stressed out over her horrible family life to concentrate on school.
How had Jacob known about Marcie's problems?
"I should go to bed," Brook murmured, noticing how Jacob's nonchalant movements had a slight edge to them as he quietly closed the pantry door. "I have to study tomorrow for midterms this week."
"Don't forget to get another glass of water."
Jacob still had the dishtowel in his hands, wringing it between both of his winter gloves. Not in a stressful manner, but more of a subconscious practiced maneuver. The refrigerator chose that moment to go silent, and Brook could swear he could hear her labored breathing.
"I'm not thirsty anymore." Brook kept her arms around her waist as she began to make her way through the small hallway, but she paused near the end of the staircase. She could still see him standing beside the pantry door. "Thanks for cleaning that up."
"Everyone makes mistakes." This was where Jacob should have smiled at her reassuringly, but she wasn't sure that he even remembered how to smile anymore. "You're not perfect, are you, Brook?"
She didn't answer him.
Instead, Brook made her way quickly upstairs to her room, where she quietly closed her bedroom door and turned the small lock on the knob. She stared at the brass button as she listened intently for any sound that her brother had followed her upstairs.
Blood rushed through her ears at an erratic pace.
Jacob had mentioned a few times over the past couple of months how she wasn't perfect, especially when they'd been in front of their parents. As a matter of fact, he'd almost gotten her grounded for saying that she'd been at Sally's house when they'd gone to the mall instead. Brook had quickly explained that Sally's mother had been the one who had needed something, and she'd had no choice but to go along with them since Mrs. Pearson had been driving Brook home that day.
The faint telltale squeak of the floorboard at the top of the stairs had her holding her breath and studying the knob on the door.
What was his fascination with people's lives?
Sally was a good person. So was Pamela, although Brook didn't know the girl all that well. She was Jacob's age, and she seemed nice. He couldn't have been happy to see Ben and Pamela together, though.
Low murmurs of conversation finally drifted from the hallway, and Brook breathed a sigh of relief. Her dad was awake, probably wanting some of that chicken casserole her mother had made for dinner. She couldn't make out everything that was being said, but she had heard Jacob mumble something about needing a glass of water. Their father believed every word that came out of Jacob's mouth, completely clueless that he'd been out of the house for hours.
Brook shook her head in disgust, though she had trouble erasing the unease over her encounter with Jacob. The way he'd talked about Sally and Pamela had been bizarre, but even more so concerning his knowledge about Marcie's problems with her family.
Brook hadn't even made it to her bed before the house phone rang, shattering any semblance of calm. The last time someone had tried to reach them in the middle of the night, it had been the hospital calling about her grandmother. She'd had a heart attack and had been put on life support. She'd died the following day.
Had the same thing happened with Grandpa?
Brook quickly retraced her steps and opened the door. Her mother was quickly coming out of her bedroom with a concerned expression on her face, and the two of them descended the stairs together. Her dad had already turned on the lamp next to the phone.
Brook heard Jacob's bedroom door open behind them.
"…can ask him. I know that he was at the library earlier this evening. Hold on." Brook's dad held the phone to his chest before calling out to her brother. "Jacob, you were at the library earlier tonight, right?"
"Yeah," Jacob replied from behind them. Brook glanced over her shoulder to find her brother leaning against the banister in a rather casual manner. "I was studying for my science midterm."
"Pamela Murray didn't return home tonight. Did you see her at the library?"
"I saw her." Jacob shrugged, as if Pamela missing wasn't all that big of a deal. "She was hanging out with Ben Pearson."
Brook's dad relayed the message while her mother descended the rest of the staircase. She motioned that she wanted the phone, and he handed it over to her.
"Did you try Scotty's parents? I was driving through town earlier, and I saw Pamela walking with him. Maybe he knows something that…"
"You two should go back up to bed," their dad said as he tightened the belt on his robe. "I'm sure that Pamela simply lost track of time or something. She'll be home soon."
"I hope so," Brook whispered, keeping an eye on her mother. She was now speaking really low into the phone, and it was hard to hear all the words. "Goodnight."
Jacob wasn't standing near the corner of the hallway when Brook finally turned around. She slowly climbed the steps one by one, thinking back to Jacob's reaction. He'd answered the question about being at the library, but he didn't seem concerned at all that Pamela hadn't returned home tonight.
