Sinner Repent

by Morgan Kelley

  Callie returned to the kitchen and began making dinner. By the time he came into the house to wash his hands, she was almost done with the prep for their meal. “How do you feel about asparagus?” she asked, grabbing a beer from the refrigerator for him.

  “I love it,” he said, enjoying the way she moved. As she was bent over, he knew that he shouldn’t be treating her like she was some conquest, but hot damn, did he want her bad.

  “Good, me too. Would you like a drink?” she asked, resting her arms on the refrigerator door.

  “Sure, I’d like that,” he said, trying to stay calm. Already, his brain was starting to do the man math. Babe plus alcohol…

  As she cracked it open, she held it out. “Is beer okay?”

  “Now, I have to say I’m impressed. I expected wine,” he admitted, and then he was amused as she showed him what was in her other hand.

  “I like beer, but not all the time,” she explained, as she placed the wine on the counter. Callie smiled when he practically chugged his drink. At least she wasn’t the only one suffering from the heat between them.

  “I have to go out to the grill, so you can sit here if you want,” Callie said, as she picked up a platter with fish and asparagus and headed outside. Callie was woman enough to admit that when he followed, she was secretly thrilled.

  “You grill, too?” he asked, watching her turn it on efficiently.

  “Yep, I’m a country girl. My daddy taught me when I was young.”

  Quinn sat at the table and drank his beer. “Do you have any brothers or sisters?” he asked, as Callie expertly placed the salmon and asparagus on the large grill.

  “Yeah, I have a big brother. How about you?” she asked.

  “I have four brothers and two sisters,” he said, grinning. “My momma liked kids, plus we’re Catholic, so you know what that means.”

  Callie laughed as she flipped the salmon. When he smiled, there were little crinkles around his eyes, and they made her heart skip in her chest. “I would say she certainly did. What was it like having that many siblings?”

  “Noisy,” he answered, watching her efficiently check their dinner.

  It was peaceful sitting there as she cooked for him. It was so tranquil to watch her move through the process of preparing dinner. Every once in a while, Callie would look up and give him a killer smile, and Quinn believed he was the luckiest SOB in the world.

  As the time passed, neither felt that they needed to fill it with useless banter. They took in the night and relaxed for the first time all day.

  “It’s ready. Come on,” she said, carrying it to the kitchen. At the oven, Callie took out some potatoes, which she had cut into wedges and sprinkled with Cajun seasoning. She efficiently served the food, and then moved to the refrigerator to snag the salad and another bottle of beer. Twisting the top off, Callie handed it to him. Her multitasking skills were amazing, and it made him wonder what else she could do as smoothly.

  “You move around a kitchen really well. Do you cook for all the men you invite over?” he asked, and then realized how that sounded. Yep, he was the biggest idiot on the planet.

  She pondered his question. “You’re my first dinner guest here in Myrtle Springs. Well, other than Susie.”

  “I’m sorry,” he said, trying to fix his mess. “I didn't mean to ask something personal.”

  She patted his arm. “It’s okay. I’ve cooked dinner for men before, but you’re the first here. Does that answer your question?”

  “Yes,” he said. He was going to add that he was going to be the only man who she ever cooked for again, but he figured that would cause tension. Quinn wasn’t exactly batting a thousand when it came to her.

  “Thanks,” he said, breaking off a piece of salmon. It was flaky and seasoned with a creamy dill sauce. “Mmmm… I’m in heaven.”

  Callie was glad. “Uh huh, except, for the record, I’d be more impressed if I didn't know that you ate pizza every night.”

  Quinn was going to be honest with her. “For your information, I only eat pizza twice a week, and this really is amazing. I don’t think I’ve ever tasted anything better.”

  “Well, thank you, Sheriff,” she drawled, taking a bite of her salad.

  “When would it be appropriate to ask you when you’re going to call me by my first name again? I know on our date, you used it easily. Maybe we can work our way back there again?”

  Callie thought about it. There was no doubt that it would be a horrible idea. “I could call you, Quinn, if you wanted me to,” she offered, smiling.

  “Oh, darlin’, believe me. I want you to, Doctor Carter.” He prayed that she would offer him her nickname. He wanted it in the worst possible way.

  “I guess then you should call me, Callista, or Callie,” she offered, noticing his triumphant grin.

  “Okay, Callie. I have to say you aren’t anything like I thought you would be,” he said, taking a bite of tender asparagus.

  Callie lifted a brow. “And what did you think I would be like, Quinn?”

  “Well, we only had that one date, and I was under the impression you were Doctor Carter straight through to your bones. Now, I find out that you can grill, you walk barefoot in your garden, and like to wear low-rise jeans to show off your bellybutton. You caught me off guard.”

  Callie wasn’t offended in the least. “Well Quinn, I have to say I like keeping you on your toes. I’ll even tell you that I also have tattoos and my bellybutton is pierced.” She laughed when he dropped his fork.

  “Don’t tease, Callie. I’m getting old and my heart can’t handle the excitement,” he said, admiring her smile. He knew that she was beautiful when she was serious, but spectacular when she let herself relax. This was far better than their first date.

  “Old, huh?”

  “Yes, ma’am, and now I have to know. Is your bellybutton really pierced, or are you just playin’ with me?”

  Callie grinned wickedly, taking that challenge. When she lifted her shirt an inch to show off a glittering stud erotically piercing her navel, the look on his face was worth it. “I’d show you my tattoos, but they’re in locations that people don’t generally get to see.”

  “My God,” he whispered hoarsely. This woman was nothing like what she appeared to be on the outside. It was like opening a conservatively wrapped present and finding that it was wild and untamable underneath. What he wouldn’t give to be able to play ‘find the ink’ on her body.

  He grabbed his beer and drained it.

  Callie found that it was comfortable to be near him. Even as she was getting relaxed, the bells were going off in her head and she chose to ignore them.

  “So, Callie, how was work today?” he asked, trying to stop thinking about sex.

  “It was the same as always. I had quite a few patients, and some made progress and some didn’t. How was your day?”

  “Shitty,” he said. “I got the autopsy report…” Then, he realized what he was doing. He was about to ruin the night by talking death over dinner. He’d lost almost all the serious relationships in his past by discussing his job at home. No one wanted to talk death at the table, especially a woman. They wanted to discuss happier things, and that simply wasn’t his life.

  Yeah, that was a close one.

  “What’s wrong?” she asked, looking up when he paused. “Why did you stop?”

  “I almost ruined the evening by talking about the unpleasantries of my job,” he admitted, as he went back to eating his food. “It’s not acceptable table talk at dinner time.”

  He tried to sound nonchalant, but she could hear the pain in his voice.

  Someone had run him over the coals for that before, and that made her soften toward him. It was clear that he was a good man. He was polite, talked about his momma, and thought to bring her flowers. Seeing the way he hurt was unacceptable to her.

  “Okay, well then, I have an idea,” she suggested. Moving to his side, she grabbed his plate and headed out of the room. “Grab our drinks, plea
se, and follow me.”

  He didn't know what she was doing, but he didn't argue. He had no idea where she was taking his food, but it was delicious, and he really wanted it back. Quinn entered her family room only to find Callie sitting on the couch.

  “Okay, now you can tell me about the autopsy report. We’re no longer talking death at the table. Now, it’s death on the couch, which is perfectly acceptable.”

  Quinn stared into her eyes and saw no anger or hostility. He couldn’t believe she was serious. “You mean it? You really want to hear about my day?” He’d had girlfriends who asked, but five minutes into the conversation, they would look bored or stare off into space.

  “Darlin’, do I look like I’m kidding?” she asked, handing him his plate as he sat on the couch. She continued eating. “So tell me about your day and the autopsy report.”

  “Okay.” Wow, she was nothing like he thought. “I got the details and there was nothing on it that you didn’t tell me,” he replied, cleaning it up a little bit.

  “Quinn, I can handle the mess of it all. You can give it to me straight. Trust me when I say that you can’t shock me. I can’t help you if you don’t spill it all.”

  “You want to help me?” He didn’t know what to say to that one.

  Callie absolutely did. “I’ve profiled for the FBI, and I know deviant behavior. If you want my help, you’re welcome to it. This town is my home now too.”

  He wanted to kiss her right then and there. “You keep catching me off guard, and I don’t know what to say to that,” he admitted, as he started eating again.

  “Say that you’ll accept my help, and we’ll go from there.”

  There was no way he was going to say no. “I’d love your help, Callie.”

  “Okay, so tell me where you’re at.”

  “We have very little, including no DNA. The only thing that they pulled was a partial print from the duct tape which was over her mouth.”

  “Was she gagged with her own undergarments?”

  “How did you know that?”

  “If they wanted to leave as little a trail as possible, they would use her possessions, and they would be the smallest piece of clothing. If there was a sexual assault, it would be a form of degradation and humiliation to the victim.”

  “She was raped, and the coroner believes that it was either multiple times or by multiple individuals. I saw the bruising when I arrived on the scene. It looked violent.”

  She had to agree. “Did he leave any of his swimmers behind for the police to use?”

  “Nope, not a single one.”

  “Okay, so we have a sexual assault with the word ‘pride’ carved into the body, and a severed jugular. That takes planning. When you’re sitting down to kill a person, there are several kinds of murder. There are the ones done in the heat of the moment and the ones you plan. Since the killer brought tools, and then moved the victim, this took planning. That’s going to make the person behind this methodical, especially since he didn't leave any sperm or trace. That takes a good deal of patience and control.”

  Quinn was caught up with listening to her mind work. He was amazed that she was putting it together faster than half his deputies would have.

  “As someone who has profiled before, I’m going to tell you that with this case, it’s harder to catch someone who has those characteristics. Most killers are caught when the person loses focus or slips up.”

  “So, we want a raging lunatic running around?” he asked, sipping his beer.

  “Not per say, but we would prefer one who’s not in rigid control. He won’t make mistakes, and that means we won’t catch his screw ups.”

  “Damn it.”

  She continued, “What we need to be asking ourselves, is why Walker’s Point? That’s outside of town, but often frequented by hikers. Did he randomly pick a place or is there something behind it?”

  He didn't answer, since he was too busy listening to her think it out. Quinn was pretty sure that her brain was incredibly sexy too. Then again, she was wearing librarian glasses and his hormones were going wild.

  “We already know that she was killed elsewhere, but where?”

  “From my experience, I’d say in a private dwelling.”

  Callie nodded. “Most likely, or some type of an abandoned property.”

  “But why move her?” he asked, placing his dinner dish on the coffee table. “He could have buried the body or dumped her in the swamps.”

  “I would speculate because he wanted her found. I believe that the word ‘pride’ has something to do with that. Once you figure out what it means, then you’ll have a clue as to why she was killed in the first place.”

  “I just don’t get it. Sissy was a nice girl. She came from a good family that supplied everything needed. Who would do this to her?”

  “I wish I could tell you that Quinn, but unfortunately, it’s one thing to get into the mind of the killer, but it’s another to understand the madness. I’ve never quite been able to quantify the reasoning behind it, personally.”

  Quinn sighed.

  “Hey, we’ll get whoever did this.”

  “Yeah, I know. Can I ask you a personal question?” he asked, needing to know.

  “You can ask, but I can’t guarantee that I’ll answer.”

  “You’re obviously smart and know your stuff. Why are you in a backwoods town like this, when you’ve already done so much with your career?” Quinn knew why he was back, and it was called burn out.

  Pulling off her glasses, she touched the bridge of her nose.

  Quinn didn't miss how her hand shook. Something about that question had rattled her cage.

  “Let’s just say I had to get away from the city, needed to relax, and wanted a normal life. Being a full time Fed puts a drain on your energy. At some point, the well goes dry.”

  Apparently, they had a lot in common.

  “Okay, that’s fair, but one day will you tell me the entire story?”

  “Maybe I will. Why are you calling Myrtle Springs your home? I know you’re from here, but I can tell by your accent that you haven’t been back long. How did you end up being the sheriff?”

  He shrugged. “I was a detective in Georgia. One day my partner and I were shot as we arrived on a scene. We thought that by the time we rolled up to investigate, the killer would be gone. He got me twice and killed my partner. As I was lying there, I promised that if I lived, I was going to get the hell out of there, and fast. I knew then that I didn’t want to die in the streets of Atlanta.”

  “I’m sorry, Quinn,” she offered, touching his shoulder.

  “Yeah me, too, but you know what they say. You can’t go back and change the past. You can only go forward.”

  “Want to know a secret?”

  “You know I do, darlin’,” he replied, taking her hand in his. At the simple touch of flesh on flesh, there were sparks shooting through his body.

  Oh hell! He was in big trouble.

  Callie enjoyed the warmth of his rough hand in hers, as it sent a shiver through her body right to her toes.

  “Well?” he asked.

  “I always hated that saying.”

  He found her entertaining and desperately wanted to kiss her. Unfortunately, the timing wasn’t right. Quinn was rebuilding trust, and that took time. “Hey, how about I wash the dishes, since you did the cooking?”

  Callie looked shocked. “Have I really found a man doing the domestic chores, and willingly?” Her laughter filled the room. “You can come to my place anytime and randomly take kitchen clean up duty.”

  “Careful what you ask for, Callie,” he warned.

  Quickly, she changed the subject. “I’m in the mood for dessert. How about you?”

  “You said one of my favorite words, darlin’.”

  “So, you like sweet things, huh?”

  “Oh, yeah, I really do. Then again, what man doesn’t?” he asked, reaching out a free hand out to haul her up from the couch. Again, she hesitated but still
took his offering. It was like she was carefully guarding every choice she made when it came to him.

  “So, what’s for dessert?” he asked nonchalantly, as he reveled in the thrill of being back on the ground they were at before he made an ass of himself yesterday.

  “I was thinking brownies a la mode out on the patio. I have to water the garden tonight, since it won’t be raining.”

  “That sounds damn delicious. I’ll go water your flowers, so you can focus on dessert.”

  “My, my, you’re handy,” she admitted, as he washed the dishes. Damn, but a girl could get used to this kind of attention.

  Lifting an eyebrow, it took everything he had to not say something inappropriate. “You have no idea, Doc. You just wait until you have a pickle jar you need opened, or a big hairy spider to kill.” When she smiled at him, his chest tightened in lust.

  “I’ll dry so we can get outside to watch the sunset. It’s pretty out in the garden at night, once the stagnant heat is gone.”

  “Oh, I bet it is. You have quite the botanical spectacle growing out there.” Quinn washed the last dish and turned off the water. “I’ll go get the plants handled, and you get to impress me with that dessert you promised me.”

  Callie knew she was screwed. “Damn it, Quinn. You’re going to be a big mistake,” she muttered, as she brought out a pan of homemade brownies and a tub of ice cream.

  It didn't take her long to put it all together. The entire time, one thing plagued her mind.

  Sexy Sheriff Gaines.

  Finally, heading outside, carrying their dessert, she located him in her garden.

  “Here you go, Quinn,” she offered, finding immense pleasure in feeding him. There was something so comforting in taking care of a man you…

  Crap! Where the heck was her brain headed?

  “Hell, if I ate like this every night, I’d need a diet.”

  She prayed that her face wasn’t flushed from her thoughts. “That’s why I run every morning. I’ll suffer an hour a day to have chocolate.”

  They moved to the porch swing. Together, they began feasting on their dessert.

  When he had his first bite, he was lost. “Man, the brownie is warm! My God woman,” he muttered. Quinn now had confirmation that he was missing out on something big.