Payday. Conner tried to focus on the job, running a knife through the last few cuts of raw meat, as the clock ticked down to four-thirty. Across the bloody table, Murphy wasn't helping. His twin danced excitedly from foot to foot while glancing at the clock every few seconds ( Read more... )

Moving to Boston had been a spontaneous decision made after a little too much drinking, but Conner didn't regret it a bit. A meat-packing plant wasn't exactly the career choice their ma dreamed of for her boys, but it paid better than most jobs available to two college dropouts. Fresh from their third and final year at University of Ireland and ( Read more... )

"But Ma, we went to church last week." Twelve year old Conner pouted and raised his eyes pleadingly to the woman currently straightening his twin's tie ( Read more... )

Three Dead as Saints Kill AgainConner scoffed and dismissively tossed the folded newspaper to the padded seat of the pew. He readjusted his perch on the wooden back of the bench in front. "Saints end up dead at the end of the stories. We'd like to avoid that ( Read more... )

They were on every corner and at every storefront, vacant eyes staring out from under ratty Santa hats, wrists mechanically ringing that little silver bell. Being a Salvation Army Santa had to be one of the shittiest jobs on the planet. The one slumped on the bench in front of the convenience store looked even worse than most, her blotchy face was ( Read more... )

"If I hear just one more Christmas carol..." Murphy muttered darkly. He danced from foot to foot, hands deep in his pockets, shoulders hunched against the snow, impatiently waiting for the crosswalk light to turn. Behind them, speakers blared "The Little Drummer Boy" from above dazzling bright window displays of expensive clothes ( Read more... )