Darian Emberly regarded St. Stephen’s church from across the road, overwhelmed

by the grandiosity of the architecture and all its history. It was a building one could believe the creator of heaven and earth might

actually deign to live in. He pulled out his cell and pressed Lucius on the speed dial. He’d spoken rashly to his brother. Whatever must be done, Darian must not play a role in it.

He cursed when the call went to voice mail. Lucius never checked his voicemail. He clearly didn’t want to be reached, and there was no telling when he’d turn it back on.

After the first human life of his conscience, Darian vowed never again.

His face was scarred forever by that night. He knew people must whisper. How

did he get that scar? He deserved it, no doubt.Darian had hoped the reminder of his sin would keep him on the straight and

narrow, but there were too many roads that wound around him—all leading

into Hell. This time, it was a woman on his conscience, and there was no physical

scar to carry. He’d used her and broken her, and in the end, he was responsible for her death.But they say confession is good for the soul.

Seven months earlier…

FAITH HUDDLED in a dumpster surrounded by garbage, her breath coming in

quiet, desperate gasps. Heavy boots thudded nearby. Please keep moving.

Please please keep moving. Her face was wet from silent tears gliding down her cheeks.

I should never have gone this way. She’d almost stayed home, snuggled

in bed with her cat, a sappy movie, and a bowl of popcorn. But it was too

pathetic for a Friday night—especially so close to Christmas when she was

all alone. The general holiday malaise and depression had already started to

set in, and it was only the first week of December. Grudgingly she’d gotten

dressed and met some girlfriends at a club. But the others had wanted to party

later than she had.

It was only a few blocks to a subway station. She comforted herself with knowledge of the pepper spray tucked away in her purse—the pepper spray her pursuer now had possession of. Faith closed her eyes, trying to shut out the sound of the shot, the image

of the body falling, her stupid gasp that had turned sharp eyes on her.

She hadn’t had the presence of mind to retrieve the mace before he’d

grabbed her purse. But with the way the wind was blowing tonight, it would

have just as likely blown into her eyes as his. And then where would she be?

Just another corpse.

The footsteps stopped. His breath sounded as if it were blowing right in her ear. His cologne put him in the cramped, dark space with her, drowning out the scent of rotting food and alcohol. He was a professional, not some random street tough. Poor, desperate people didn’t bother with cologne. And

if they did, it wouldn’t have been such an expensive brand. She bit back a scream until it rattled around and echoed so loud in her

mind she feared he’d hear it. There was a snick of a lighter and then cigarette

smoke filled the air.

It was like he was trying to smoke her out—as if he knew she couldn’t stand the stench. He took drag after drag as she watched the faint light through the cracks of her metal cage. He was toying with her. She heard the pull of a zipper, and for one sick moment thought it was his pants. But the sound that followed was the snap of a wallet being opened. Her wallet.

“Faith Jacobson. 580 Flatbush Avenue. Brooklyn.” His voice was

relaxed, casual, because murder was casual to him. She didn’t want to stereotype, but a nicely dressed Italian man in Brooklyn standing over a dead body required no leaps of logic. This guy had a mob written all over him. Letting go of the purse had been necessary to save herself, but now he knows who she was and where she lived. For a moment she continued to pretend he didn’t know she was in the dumpster. She tried to

think about where she could go, how she could stay safe from someone who would no doubt relentlessly pursue the only witness to his crime.

“Pretty. Brunette, though. Too bad.” He must be looking at her driver’s license photo. She’d dyed her hair right before that was taken. Now it was back to her natural red. She didn’t know what he meant about her hair color,

why it should matter one way or the other.

He let out a heavy sigh. “All right, come on out. If you make me come get you, I might have to play with you first.”

That was it. She’d held it together as long as she could, been quiet as long

as she could manage. “Please, let me go"

“Sorry, I can’t do that. You’ve got too much information in that pretty

head."

“I don’t know anything. I don’t know who you are. I don’t care. I won’t get involved. I swear to God. Walk away. Please. Whatever happened back there, it’s not my business. I don’t care about it.” All Faith wanted was to be safe in her bed at home with her cat.

female lead: Evelyn Adams

Male lead: Darian Emberly