The truth was out there.
Now, it was all up to him.
Quinn was disgusted that someone hurt her like that. Gently, he rocked her to help soothe her frayed nerves. With soft whispers and gentle kisses, she calmed down for him.
“Callie, I’m sorry, baby. I shouldn’t have asked about it. Had I known it would hurt you like this, I wouldn’t have pried. It wasn’t any of my business,” he whispered, feeling sick to his stomach at the idea of her lying on the floor, bleeding to death.
“It’s okay, Quinn. You were correct. You had a right to know.”
“Callie,” he said softly.
She pushed on. “So, I left the city, stopped working for FBI, and came here to grow flowers. My goal was to celebrate life and find peace again.”
It was a few minutes before he could get the knot out of his chest, so he could speak. “I’m glad you came here, Callie,” he admitted, as he pulled her securely against his frame. Deep in his heart, he didn't doubt that fate wanted them together in this moment. Possibly, they were here to help each other heal.
Callie curled into him, seeking out the safety of his body. “Me, too, Quinn, me too,” she replied. Now that he knew, it was a game changer. She had laid it all on the table, and it was going to come down to his next move.
She prayed that she didn't make a mistake.
If she did, there was no doubt that it would cost her everything, including her heart.
* * *
‘The Brethren of the Blood’ watched her leave the bar.
As she climbed into the car with the man, who waited impatiently for her, they grew excited.
They could hear her laughter, and the man’s nervous words as she disappeared below the view of the seat.
It didn't take a genius to figure out what she was doing with him. From the motion of the car and the bobbing of her head, it was quite evident.
They practically salivated over their pick.
She was the perfect sin. There was no doubt that she was the one who they were meant to take.
As quickly as she arrived, she departed. Leaning in the driver’s side window, she whispered something and dropped a kiss to the top of the man’s head. He didn't wait around, quickly pulling away as the woman teetered to her vehicle on her stilts.
‘The Brethren’ knew it was time to strike while there was no one around.
As she approached her car, digging for her keys, the leader exited from the shadows behind her. At the sound of footsteps, she turned to face them.
“Well hey there, sugar,” drawled Sammie Jean as she leaned against her car.
She smelled like cigarettes, booze, and cheap sex. It only added fuel to their fire.
“How are you tonight?” the leader asked.
“I’m right as rain. I’ve ain’t never been better,” she replied, smugly.
It was all it took. Swinging out with the baseball bat, the smirk was effortlessly wiped from her face. Sammie Jean was knocked off her hooker red heels and onto the ground.
“Oh, trust me, whore, you’ve had far better days. Just wait and see…”
* * *
When Sammie Jean woke, her head was pounding and she wasn’t able to move. Immediately, she began to panic as she struggled against the bonds that held her in place. Once Sammie Jean realized that she was naked and tied to an altar-like structure, the real freaking out began.
“Help!” she yelled.
“No one can hear you, Sammie Jean,” said the voice.
“Why are you doing this?” she asked, crying. She didn't understand what was going on around her.
“You’re the next one,” came the only reply.
Then, Sammie Jean understood. The other two women, who were killed, had gone through this terror too.
“We’re cleaning the town of the sins that are taking over our streets.”
“What does that have to do with me?” sobbed Sammie Jean. Surely, she wasn’t guilty of anything but having a little fun and making a little money on the side.
“You’re a cancer that takes over and spreads, and the only thing that can save us, is to cut it out. We’re removing you, Sammie Jean.”
“No, please,” she begged as the figures walked into the open. They immediately disrobed. Sammie Jean’s face changed as recognition dawned. “You’re not supposed to hurt people,” she whispered in horror, as she stared at the leader.
“Sometimes, people have to be sacrificed so others can survive.”
“No, I’m sorry! I’m so sorry! Please let me go,” she begged, looking at the first figure. “I’ll be good! I promise.”
“Gag her.”
The woman’s panties were shoved into her mouth as the duct tape was slapped into place.
“It seems your mouth if full again,” one of them taunted.
Her eyes filled with tears.
“Now, we’ll make the offering, Sammie Jean, and you’ll be the sacrifice,” the figure said, lifting the blade to terrify their victim.
It was the last thing Sammie Jean saw before the hood was thrust down on her body and the ritual began.
* * *
Quinn watched her sleeping peacefully beside him.
Every once in a while, he would brush a stray hair from her cheek as he marveled in his fortune.
Yes, they both had scars, but he really believed that they could come together and be whole. She was going to be his second chance in life, and he wasn’t going to let it slip by.
When Callie moved toward him, clinging to his body in sleep, Quinn’s heart slipped a little more. Pressed up against him, there was no doubt she belonged there forever.
Here, this fearless little warrior was in his bed, and now his heart. Quinn knew that he would do anything to keep her safe.
They were both lost souls. Finally, fate had lead them down the path, bringing them together.
He had been alone a long time, but that was apparently changing. Placing his lips over hers, he was moved to share what was growing deep inside him. This time, he would be tender and show sweetness.
Because Doctor Callista Carter had plowed right over him, whether she knew it or not.
* * *
Finding a place for her wasn’t difficult at all.
They simply followed their plan. Placing Sammie Jean behind Ollie’s, in the dumpster, was sheer genius. She was destined to be found, but the police wouldn’t have a clue.
Not even the meddling woman.
Oh, she was smart and the sheriff was crazy about her, but that was about to change. When even she couldn’t save the women, her glory would fade, right up until the point where they took her to be theirs.
Oh, the plan would work, as long as they stuck with it.
“We did good work tonight,” the leader said.
There was satisfied laughter, as they arranged the victim on top of the garbage and fluffed her matted hair.
“It’s a suitable place for her.”
Another added, “She deserved it. God would be proud.”
“Not bad. We couldn’t have picked a better specimen for this sin,” said the first figure.
“Yeah, she was gluttony personified.”
They laughed, returning into the shadows. It was time to go their own ways, until once again there was another woman to slay.
It wouldn’t take long.
Myrtle Springs was a vile, dirty little town.
Thursday Early Morning
It was three in the morning when Quinn’s phone rang.
Reaching for it, he had to practically roll over Callie to grab it. She didn't seem to mind, and instead wrapped her arms around his torso to move with him. He could detect her scent on his body, and it reminded him of their night.
Yes, he woke her twice through the night to take her again and again. He couldn’t get enough of touching the woman, who was sharing his bed. Quinn believed it had something to do with her eagerness, breathy little gasps, and the way she clung to him afterward. It made him feel good.
Who was he kidding?
Now that she had been in his bed, Quinn didn’t think he could let her go.
This didn't bode well for his heart, and he knew it.
“Sheriff Gaines,” he said gruffly into the phone, as Callie’s hand slid down his body. Silently, he began praying it was a wrong number, and since he was already up…
“Sheriff, it’s Junior. We have another body,” he blurted.
It was all he had to say.
Quinn sat up, jostling Callie. “Another body? Where and who is it now?”
“It’s Sammie Jean Hargrove, and the staff at ‘Ollie’s Wilde Hare’ found her in their dumpster. I touched her, boss. She’s still warm.”
Oh, hell. This wasn’t going to be good. They were turning up bodies all over the place. The killer was working overtime, and now so was he. “Don’t move her! I’ll be there in a few minutes.”
“Yes, sir,” he said, hanging up.
Callie sat watched him in the moonlight. “Are you okay, Quinn?” she asked softly.
“I have to go, Callie. We have another victim.”
“I’ll be dressed in three minutes,” she said, jumping out of bed to get to her things.
“I want you to stay here, Callie,” he said gruffly. God, he didn't want her around any of this.
Callie glanced over her shoulder before speaking, “Sorry, darlin’, but you made a deal. I’ll be downstairs waiting.”
She didn't give him time to respond.
“We’re in this together, Quinton,” she shouted from the stairs.
Quinn swore like a sailor.
The last thing he wanted was the woman he was really attached to, running amuck at a crime scene. Hopping out of bed, he began dressing as fast as he could.
Something made Quinn believe that Callie would have no problem leaving without him.
Then, he would lose his damn mind.
When he arrived downstairs, Callie was already there, and true to her word, she was ready. If they weren’t going to a crime scene, he would have laughed. His girl looked like a cat burglar, a sexy, female one who had her eyes on some big heist. She stood there in black cargo pants and a t-shirt to match.
“I’m ready,” she said, meeting him at the door.
“I wish you’d stay here,” he said.
“Quinn, I’m safer with you than I am here alone. Besides, we had a deal, if I recall.”
He began cursing more. Not only because she kept pointing out their agreement, but because he knew she was right. “Fine. Let’s move,” he muttered, as he jumped up into the truck. From the corner of his eye, he could see her pulling her hair back in a ponytail.
Yep, sexy cat burglar.
“How did you get ready so soon?” he asked, pulling out of the driveway.
“I worked with the FBI. They gave you no notice when they came to your house. Sometimes, Nate would wake me up, only to threaten to make me leave in my pajamas if I took too long. I would stare at them and be barely cognizant, but I still had to do my job.”
“I see,” he said, picturing her rolling out of another man’s bed. The idea that she was awoken by that mystery man pissed him off.
Well, he had a newsflash for her and every other male on the green Earth. That was definitely over.
In fact, it was happening over his cold dead body.
“What do we have?” she asked, trying to make him out in the darkness of his truck.
“We have Sammie Jean, the local woman of ill repute, dead in the dumpster behind Ollie’s.”
“They’re moving fast, Quinn,” she said, quietly. “In my professional opinion, this could be a form of escalation. We’re almost at one a day now.”
“Yeah, I know.”
It was all that had to be said. Neither spoke the remainder of the trip. Quinn was thinking about the newest victim from his town. At that point, his options were limited, and it looked like there was only one thing that he could do.
Call the FBI for help.
It was pretty much out of his control.
As if she knew, Callie placed her hand on his leg and moved her fingers back and forth reassuringly.
“I’m sorry, Quinn,” she said, finally. “I know this has to piss you off and be an insult to you as a man, and sheriff.”
He glanced over at her. “Am I that far gone, that my girlfriend feels the need to psychoanalyze me?”
The use of the term ‘girlfriend’ caught her off guard. It gave her little goose bumps.
Pulling into the parking lot, he realized that she was speechless. That made him laugh, and he knew it was likely the last one he would have for the day. “I’m writing this one down. You had nothing to say back to me,” he stated, putting his truck in park. Leaning over, he kissed her softly. “You’re right. It insults my manhood,” he admitted before hopping down.
Callie snapped back to reality and chased after him through the parking lot of ‘Ollie’s Wilde Hare’. Fortunately, it was past closing time so it wasn’t that busy. Almost everyone there was on duty with either the sheriff’s department or the coroner.
“Sheriff, over here,” called Junior. He was surprised as Callie came up behind his boss. There was no way that the man had time to drive across town to pick her up, so that meant…
“Hello, ma’am.”
Callie greeted him, but had other things on her mind. Heading over to the dumpster, she took the pair of gloves that Jimmy Lee held out to her. The coroner and his tech were in the big metal container working on the woman.
Tommy Brooks noticed her approaching. “Doctor, hop on up and take a look,” he offered. All the men around her moved to give Callie a boost.
Then, came his voice.
“The first one who touches my girlfriend, ends up in the dumpster as another corpse,” Quinn stated, moving toward her.
She stared at him, openmouthed once more.
He lifted her chin with his finger. “I got you, baby,” Quinn said, placing his hands on her hips as he lifted her effortlessly.
Doctor Brooks snickered. “Way to mark your territory, Quinn. Are you going to pee on her next?”
Callie made some sound between a strangled gasp and a hiss of outrage. “Excuse me?”
“Oh look,” Quinn said, pointing at Sammie Jean. “A dead woman. We should probably focus on her and not me.”
He had a point.
“Wow, someone hit her pretty hard,” said Callie.
Tommy agreed. “I don’t think it killed her. The edges of the wound, where her throat was cut, are red. That generally means the skin was still alive and blood was pumping.”
Both stayed out of the way as the lab techs finished pulling the gag from her mouth to bag it for evidence.
“This one was more violent for some reason,” said Callie, as Quinn lowered her back to her feet.
He stared at her and so did the coroner. “What are you thinking, Doctor?” Quinn asked, giving her the respect that she deserved. Yeah, she was definitely his girlfriend, but she earned her title.
“Mentally, I’m comparing the differences. The other women had bruising, but this assault looked far more violent. Even the neck wound looked deeper and torn open.”
Doctor Brooks agreed. “It was. You're not imagining things.”
“It almost looks personal,” Callie said, putting all the information together in her mind. She would save it for now, and then use it later when it was time to figure it all out.
He didn't disagree. “How long has she been dead?” Quinn asked the coroner.
“I would say less than four hours, according to the liver temp. Rigor is just beginning to set in too.”
Jimmy Lee interrupted, “I come here after work for a beer all the time. Sammie Jean is a well-paid bar fly.”
Callie glanced over because she was confused.
Quinn whispered in her ear, “She liked to hang out until some man purchased her services for the night.”
“O
hhhhh. Well, then, placing her in the trash is an allegorical statement from the killer. Metaphorically, he left her where he felt she deserved to be.”
“Huh?” Jimmy Lee stared at his boss. “What did she mean by that?”
Tommy Brooks jumped down and winked at his friend. He was glad Quinn seemed happy. Well, as happy as a man dealing with a serial killer could possibly be.
“It means that your boss gets all hot and bothered when his babe uses really big words. It’s probably orgasmic. Right, Sheriff?”
Quinn stared at the coroner. “Really? Do you know my temper?” he drawled. “I’ve been back long enough that your memory should be refreshed.”
Callie started laughing. She didn't mind the men teasing her, since Quinn looked just as flustered.
“What I’m saying, Jimmy Lee, is that the killer was making a statement by placing her in the garbage. He viewed her as trash, so that is the appropriate place for her,” she explained.
“So, she was definitely gluttony,” stated Tommy, referring to the word carved into her body.
“This could be our first break if we can figure out what her day was like, and what she was doing right before she was killed,” Callie said. “If this was her hangout, then maybe a patron saw something.”
Quinn agreed with her. As soon as they could, there would be mass interviews going on with every customer and employee. He glanced over at Callie, who was busily entering information into her phone.
“I’ll need this autopsy ASAP, Tommy,” he said. “The quicker you can get it to me, the better.”
“Yeah, I’ll put a rush on it. You’ll have it by nine,” he said, pulling off his gloves to head toward the coroner’s van.
Callie was pacing back and forth, and Quinn was beginning to worry about her. “What’s got you all worked up?”
“A few things, Quinn. I think we need help. Calling in the FBI now might be a good thing, or we could get buried under this fast,” she said, touching his hand.
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