Page 37 of Sincerely, Butterfly

“Holy shit. This is amazing!” he cheers.

My lips part in shock. “It is?”

“Hell yeah, it is. I’m so proud of you, Nola.”

I’m sorry, he’s what?

“Proud?” I ask slowly, wondering if my ears are working correctly.

“I always wished you would take after me. I was worried it was never going to happen. I would have still loved you no matter whatand been just as proud, but now…” He trails off with a laugh, one with pure glee on his face as he looks at the body. “Here we are. Your first body.”

“I’m so confused right now,” I state plainly. My brain is trying to compute, to process this whole situation, but I'm getting nothing. My brain is blank as fuck.

“Come on,” he chuckles, grabbing the gurney and pulling it into the room. “We have a lot to talk about.”

“Alright, spill,” I demand as we sit in Dad’s office. I curl up in the chair, wrapping my arms around my knees. My eyes are heavy, the excitement of tonight beginning to dissipate.

“Me spill?” he asks with an amused look. “I think I should be the one asking you to spill.”

“I already told you why I killed her,” I point out.

“You gonna tell me who she is?”

I chew on my lip nervously. He might not be losing his mind about this—for some odd reason that I can’t wrap my head around in this moment—but I’m not so sure he’s still gonna be proud when he finds out that I killed the daughter of one of the Brotherhood’s top families.

“Not until you tell me why you’re not losing it over the fact you just caught your daughter trying to get rid of a dead body,” I argue. “Proud. You said you were proud of me. Why the hell would you be proud of your kid murdering someone?”

“Because that means you’re just like me.” He grins widely, from ear to ear, truly looking proud.

“Okay, so I wasn’t hearing things before when you said you’d always hope that I’d take after you.” I cock my head to the side. “Dad, are you telling me you’ve killed people? Were they for the Brotherhood?”

He snorts out a laugh. “Ofcourse not.”

“Okay, I was gonna say.” I blow out a breath.

“I ended my killing career years ago.”

“I’m sorry, what?” My eyes widen at that little tidbit.

He leans back in his chair, a smile still on his face. “The eighties were amazing. Nola, you should have seen me. I was in my prime.”

“Prime… of killing people,” I say slowly, making sure I’m hearing things right.

“I was a big deal, you know.” He winks. “On the news and everything,” he states, puffing out his chest. “They even made documentaries about me.”

“They did?” That has me sitting up with interest. “Holy fuck. Dad, were you a serial killer? Like, no joke?”

“No joke,” he chuckles. “The real deal.”

“Oh shit.” I laugh, excitement flooding me again. “Holy shit, my dad was a serial killer. A famous one?” I ask again. “I’ve never heard your name as any serial killer. But I’m guessing you went by an alias, seeing as you're not behind bars and have been living a pretty normal life here in New Orleans. Well, as normal as it gets with the Brotherhood society.”

“I’ve never even been close to being caught. I knew what I was doing.” He shrugs as if it’s no big deal. “But yeah, they had no clue who I was. So, they called me the Midnight Shadow.”

My. Jaw. Drops. To the ground.

“Hold the front door,” I say a little too loudly, buthello!My father just told me he was my favorite serial killer. How fucking cool is this? “You’re the Midnight Shadow. As in the best serial killer of all time?”

His eyes start to water as his grin grows warm with satisfaction. “You really think I’m the best serial killer of all time?”