The Sister(195)

‘Something in my eye,’ she explained, dabbing at it.

He waited until he had her full attention.

‘Carla, I just asked if I could trust you, and you told me, yes.’ Miller scrutinised her face.

Although she flinched, it was almost imperceptible. She met his gaze, chin out, defiant, but she shifted, no longer comfortable in her chair. He knows.

‘Why are you taping this conversation without telling me, Carla?’

‘Because I don’t want to forget anything you say, and because I want to play it back over and over, looking for clues.’ She bit her bottom lip and looked at the ground.

‘All you had to do was ask. I wouldn’t have refused,’ he said, disappointment evident in his voice.

‘I don’t suppose you trust me now, do you?’ She half-smiled. ‘I’m a reporter, sometimes I forget there are more important things…’ she trailed off, hoping for another chance.

After a moment’s contemplation, he said, ‘Come on, let’s get out of here.’

He paid the bill.

‘Does this mean you’re not going to tell me what you were about to confide?’

Miller put his finger to his lips and held it upright.

Steering her to the right as they left the cafe, they walked in silence for several hundred yards, before she asked where they were going.

‘We’re going back to my hotel,’ he said, accelerating into a brisk stroll. She confirmed her willingness by clattering along behind, on heels not designed for the pace. She stopped and slipped them off.

When she finally caught him up, she asked, ‘You will tell me what you were going to say, won’t you?’

They swept up the steps to the main entrance. Miller held the door open for her. ‘Of course I will, afterwards.’ He pushed the lift button. The doors opened straight away, and he stepped inside.

Her head turned away. Pushing her full lips into a petulant pout, she followed him in.





Once in the room, Miller poured them a drink from the mini bar.

Carla sidled up to him and then moulded herself into his body. He felt the beat of her heart through his shirt. With one hand, he scrunched the hair at the back of her neck. She placed a finger between their lips. ‘Wait, I don’t want to be distracted from this with your secret on my mind. Tell me now.’

Miller didn’t need to be clairvoyant to know what would happen in the next few minutes.

‘Okay, when I left you in Edinburgh I went to meet a former nun, but she wasn’t like any nun I'd ever met before. She’s known as The Sister and has the power to heal, read the past and help to put wrong things right. She can also tell the future.’

‘I can do that,’ Carla said with a wicked grin.

‘Whereas I saw Boyle carrying Lei, she witnessed the actual crime from her home in Ireland. She touched me and sparked a sort of transference of knowledge and experience from me to her.’

Her eyes narrowed. ‘Are you bull-shitting me?’

‘No, she wasn’t expecting what happened next. I got a flash of something from her. She tried to stop it, but it was too late. I’m still making sense of it now. Are you following me?’ She nodded. ‘Anyway, the point is; she wants me to help her in some way. She has this power, but she’s forbidden to interfere directly with fate.’

‘So what does that mean?’

‘I’m not sure, but I think it was no accident I connected with her. I’ve seen another murder through that connection, and I’ve seen the man who did it. A priest murdered a choirboy and got away with it, because she couldn’t break her vow of silence. It’s not my normal line of work, but I’m going to see justice done.’

‘That’s very commendable.’ Carla hardly dared to believe him. If what he said were true, he was well on the way to providing her with more great stories than any other source.

‘Do you mind if I have a shower?’ she said, already closing the bathroom door.

‘No, you go ahead.’ He turned, and saw in the mirrored wall opposite that she’d left the door open a few inches. The powerful jets of water thundered against the toughened glass cubicle. Carla called out to him above the roar. ‘Are you coming?’

Miller stripped out of his clothes and went to her. The cubicle door popped open. She let him in. The sight of her shapely body stirred him; each beat of the heart increased his desire. She held him. They kissed, tentative at first, and then consumed by a hunger, devoured each other. Her breasts were pert, and slightly upturned, with nipples like rosebuds. The water dribbling off them made them stiffen, and stand out more erect; he nibbled each in turn, tracing a line down through her belly. He tongued her navel; her hands grasped the back of his head, guiding him down to her lower abdomen, she was shaven and smooth, with a fine, black tattooed line of tiny words running down to her clitoris. He struggled to make out what they said in the trickling rivulets of water.





Carla arched, thrusting herself forward, expectant. She sensed his hesitation and looked down. ‘What are you doing, Miller, it doesn’t say read me in French, it says me lécher – lick me.’

Carla gasped as he obliged, whispering, ‘I knew you were going to do that.’





Afterwards, he asked if she was worried she might come to some sort of harm because of what he told her about people dying around him.