Tom Residence

Robert Carlyle approached Darla Tom. “So, how is my little son doing so far?”

“Don’t call him that. It –”

“Son?!” came Kassie Tom’s voice came from the doorway. She stood with an equally confused Patrick Donavon. “I don’t believe it! Is there something you two want to tell us…?”

“I… uh…” Darla stuttered.

“All I meant,” Robert said, lying with a straight face, “was that since I’ve been taking care of your mother, it feels like my son. I am in no way the father of this baby. I was… out of town at the time it was conceived, even.”

Kassie nodded. “Of course.” She pushed her dirty-blonde hair from her eyes. “I guess am just so shocked that my mother was pregnant in the first place.”

Patrick still remained unsure.

“C’mon,” Kassie urged Patrick. “We have to make sure your room is set.”

Patrick followed Kassie up the stairs. “Do you believe what Robert said?”

Kassie spun around. “What? Of course I do. It is absurd.”

“Is it really?”

“Yes!” Kassie exclaimed. “My mother has been a devout Catholic since I was a child. There is hardly a chance she’d have lusted over another man, let alone conceive a child.”

Patrick nodded, but he doubts remained.

Back in the kitchen, Darla spooned a yogurt cup.

“That was close,” Robert said, breathing a sigh of relief. “From now on, I am not going to say anything unless they are out of this house.”

Darla remained silent.

“Is everything alright?” Robert asked.

Darla raised her head ever so slightly, and spoke in a worried tone. “I’m not sure we’re going to get away with it. And if we do, I’m not going to Heaven.”

King Mansion

Julian King sat in the dining room. He was looking at yet another editorial in the Presence Chronicle.

“Damn John Johnson,” he cursed aloud. “Damn everyone who has been writing such things about our family. ‘Adam King is a disgrace to humans in general,’ he writes, ‘and he represents his whole family quite well.’ Damn!”

“I’m just sick of waiting to hear about Adam.” Constance King entered the room with her hair tied up in an elegant bun, and a silver gown. “And you worry about the King name.”

Julian turns to his wife. “You are looking beautiful, as always.”

Constance turned to her husband. “And you look pig-headed, as always.”

Julian got ready to give a comeback, but the phone rang. “Henderson!” he called out.

“He’s left. His wife got sick, and I said he could go.” Constance moved to the phone. “I’ll get it.”

“It better not be damn reporter. We have no comments.”

Constance answered. “It’s John.” Her voice was lackluster, as if she wasn’t excited to hear her own son.

“Put him on speakerphone,” Julian said excitedly.

Constance touched a button, and the voice of a young man came over the speaker. “Mother? Father? It’s been a while.”

“It certainly has. We haven’t been in touch for several months. How are politics going?” Julian said.

“Things are going great. Being mayor is simple enough… when I can get everyone else to do the work. I just cut the ribbon and get in the picture.” John’s voice crackled then became clear again.

“Who did you kick down to get to the top?” Constance asked bitterly.

“Who didn’t he kick down?!” Julian spoke forcefully, but happily. “Our son’s a true King, through and through!”

Constance backed away from the phone, and sat on the far side of the room.

“I heard about Adam. Shame, isn’t it? I’m feeling the heat all the way here.” John was unsympathetic. “I have a meeting to get to. Sorry the chat was so short.”

“Thank God…” Constance whispered under her breath.

“See you son. Visit some time!” Julian hung up. “Good boy, eh?”

Constance didn’t answer. She turned around, and quietly made her way upstairs.

Consuelos Residence

“…and now I’m going to jail because of you! You are selfish. What are you getting out of this anyways? I killed a man, and now it’s as if you’ve hated me all your life…”

“Hello…” Brianna Huber cooed, listening to Mateo Consuelos’ brother speak. She quickly moved behind a large group of evergreen shrubs in her yard. She strained to hear.

“…and I’m going to be damned if you are going to get me caught!”

Bingo! Brianna thought excitedly. This is getting interesting…

“This is your own doing!” Skye Lore blasted back, finally getting word in. “And don’t get angry at me. I’m the only way out of this mess.”

“How could you help me? You’ll probably say that going to the police and confessing will be the fourth missing prophecy. ‘Confess!’ you’ll say. ‘You’ll be free afterwards.’ I almost killed my own brother.”

Skye shook her head. “If it was the fourth prophecy, I assure you it would save you somehow. I wasn’t wrong, mind you. You never bewared of Mateo. And you’ll pay the price.”

Brianna pulled a pad of paper from her purse and began jotting down notes feverishly.

“How?” Dean Consuelos asked. “I’ve seen you lately. You are getting weaker. I know it.”

Skye shifted slightly. “I… I have just been keeping low, that’s all. I don’t want anyone to start getting suspicious that demons have invaded my body and given me special powers… not that they’d believe me.”

“Think again…” Brianna breathed. “I think they re-released The Exorcist just for me! This is the perfect time for a story like this. The public will devour it!”

“Maybe one all your powers are gone, you’ll act like a real person, with a real past,” Dean said, turning around. “Because I murdered someone, and that’s no joke.”

“What is this about murder?” Mateo exclaimed, come out of the house.

As Dean stuttered for an answer, a police cruiser pulled up to the driveway. And they had tracked down the man they needed…

Evans Residence

Addy Evans answered the door as soon as the doorbell rang. As she swung it open, and man stood there with a package.

“I am so sorry, m’am,” he began, “but I forgot this one model you ordered. I almost delivered it to the wrong house. I didn’t think big companies used hand written labels anymore.”

Addy thanked the man, and placed the packages in the living room. She needed to work, but had so much on her mind.

“Gillian,” she whispered to herself, vengefully. “I knew you have stooped low, but stealing Giovanni away from me is the last straw. I will find a way to get back at you.”

Presence Shopping Plaza
7 Collier Road

“Whose fault is it, then? How could mom and dad have dealt with the loss of a daughter?”

The words of Wyle Torres flowed through Iris Torres’ mind. Her brother was right. How could her parents have dealt with the loss of a daughter? But could Bo have been willing enough to kill?

“Iris!” Gillian Evans cried out, running up to her best friend. “What are you doing here? I thought you’d be at home with the police. I heard the news… I’m so sorry. We just haven’t been able to meet up for a while.”

Iris was glad to see her. “I was just looking around. I needed to get out of my house for a while. It has been hard dealing with my mother’s death… and my father being arrested…”

“I’m so sorry!” Gillian said, coming closer. “My problems seem so trivial compared to yours.” She paused. “I guess you’ve heard of Adam’s escape?”

Iris nods. “Of course… I – I was one of the first to be notified.”

Gillian pulled Iris down to the bench in the mall. Gillian’s red hair streaked around her head, and she wore a tight fitting red sweater with a pair of blue jeans. Iris wore a an equally beautiful blouse. “Tell me everything! How did you get the news? The police?”

Iris shook her head. “No. They told me quickly, but I found out another way.”

Gillian paused, and placed one of her fingers on her fleshly lipsticked lips. “The radio?”

“No. But they were good – ” Iris pushed a strand of hair that had escaped onto her forehead. “It was much more… personal…”

“How so?”

“Well, one the night my mother was… murdered,” (the words could still not come easily), “I found out. Giovanni was at my house…”

“Giovanni?” Gillian asked, almost jealously. “What was he doing there?”

Iris eyed her friend. “Just for a rest. Needless to say, he left very quickly, but I was payed a visit by someone I never would have expected.”

“Who could it have – ?” Gillian pause, but took a long look of her friend’s face. “Oh, my God… did he…? Is really…?”

Iris nodded excitedly. “Me and Wyle have him gagged in the basement. I knocked him out with a chair!” Iris laughed a bit, and leaned closer and began to whisper. “And I’m blonde, too.”

“I don’t believe it.” It took only one look. “But it’s true, isn’t it? Adam King? Oh, my God! This is so juicy. Has anyone found out yet?”

“Nope. Only you and Wyle… and it is going to stay that way, okay? You don’t breathe a word of this. Do you hear?”

Gillian looked like she was bursting. “All right. But isn’t this dangerous?”

Iris shrugged. “He actually seems harmless enough. He got a good whack.” She smiled. “But I do believe you had something to say when you spotted me. I can see it on your face.”

“It’s nothing like your news… well, it isn’t even news…”

“Out with it, then!”

“Well, me and Giovanni – ” Gillian started.

“You mean that guy your mother is going out with?” Iris thought for a second. “And he was the one you wanted me to go out with a while back. Have you come up with a different dastardly scheme to lure him from your mother?”

“We kissed.”

Iris stared at her friend in awe, only wondering if it was a scheme, or for real feelings.

Torres Residence

Wyle Torres paced around in the basement. He walked around Adam King’s gagged up body, wondering what to do next.

“We need to get rid of you,” Wyle gnarled. “You have caused one too many problems with my family.”

Adam tried to speak, but his voice was just a loud muffle.

“You want to speak?” Wyle slapped him in the face. “Too bad. So sad.” He walked around behind the chair Adam was seated on. “In order to get rid of you, I need to make sure of one thing. One very important thing.”

Adam remained silent, straining for the answer.

“Your death has to be by suicide.” Wyle pulled a syringe from a small drawer in the basement tool box. He pulled some liquid into it from a small vial.”

“Stmmmp!” Adam yelled, deciphered only as the word ‘Stop!’

“Too late,” Wyle said, and he inserted the needle into Adam’s arm. With him wearing black gloves, no fingerprints were made.