Page 85 of Finn

“I know, but it looks nice. Aesthetics, you know.”

He sat on the sofa, unbuttoning his suit jacket. “Much better.”

I returned to my room, taking the only suitcase I had and filling it quickly with clothes and toiletries. My uniforms were in my locker, so I was covered there. I added some shoes and all the clothing Finn had bought me, including the lingerie. I looked around, deciding I had enough and I would return.

After I’d had a long talk with Mr. O’Reilly.

I reached for a photo on my bedside table. It was of my mum and me when I was little. I tucked it in the bag and carried that to the living room.

Tom glanced up from his phone. “Almost done?”

“Yes. I want to dump the trash. It smells a bit odd in here.”

He stood. “I’ll take it.”

“It’s just down the hall.”

He held out his hand for the key. “Really?” I asked.

“Yes. I’m not to leave you unprotected, and I’m not leaving the door unlocked. Even for a couple of minutes.”

I handed him the key and he left, the door clicking locked behind him.

An idea hit me, and I went into Brian’s old room, stopping for a moment at the scent. The odd smell lingered in here the strongest, and I wondered if I had missed something when cleaning.

I reached into the closet for the backpack, intent on taking the picture Brian had shown me. I would copy it, take it somewhere, have it digitally enhanced, and put it back in a couple of days.

I heard the door as I pulled the backpack off the shelf, the unexpected weight causing it to slip from my hand. It landed on the floor with a thump. “I’m fine,” I called out. “I’ll be right there.”

I bent to pick up the bag, not surprised to see the zipper had broken. The bag was stuffed. More than I recalled it being when Brian had shown it to me. Curious, I pushed the plaid material of what I assumed was one of my dad’s shirts to the side and blinked at what I was seeing.

Clear bags. Hundreds of them. Some looked like flour. Others like shards of glass. The odor I had been smelling was stronger now that the backpack was open.

Drugs.

The bag was full of drugs.

I heard a noise behind me.

“Tom, we need to call Finn. Right now,” I said.

“Tom has a bit of a headache right now.”

I spun on my heel, meeting my brother’s black-eyed gaze. He was pale, his mouth turned up in a twisted sort of grin. My heartbeat sped up as I took in the gun in his hands, the silencer on the end of it adding an even scarier threat than his casual stance.

Or the blood on his shirt.

“But by all means,” he continued. “Let’s call Finn. I have so much to tell him.”

He grinned.

“And neither of you are going to like it.”

* * *

I stared, and he tilted his head. “Cat got your tongue, little sister?”

“Brian—what—how⁠—”