“I am now,” she said, moving as quickly as she could to connect the two sleeping bags so he’d stop staring at her in her bra and panties.
“I packed you a shirt and sweatpants.”
“I left it in the back of the Jeep, and I wasn’t in the mood to face you,” she admitted.
“Here.” He pulled his shirt over his head. “You can wear that; I’ll keep the pants though.”
“Deal.” She quickly wiggled the cotton fabric over her body, enjoying the fresh pine scent that smelled exactly like she remembered. When they’d been a couple, she used to love to grab one of his shirts and sleep in it when he was working late or not going to be around that night. He had a thick outdoorsy scent that reminded her of being in the woods in the spring when all the trees were blooming.
“Come here,” he whispered.
She rested her head on his chest and splayed her hand over his stomach. “Did Kara know her wife cheated on her?”
“I don’t think so.”
“Good. That would have broken her heart, and it’s bad enough her wife was murdered.” By the time Callie had met Kara, it had been more than year since Renee had passed. While Kara was still bitter and angry, she was more interested and curious in the process of finding a serial killer.
And helping in any way she could.
It became her passion.
Until the Trinket Killer just stopped killing.
Of course, there had been Stephanie’s murder, which changed things for Callie, turning her into a crazy woman, and Kara nearly walked out of her life.
“But if Kara had known or suspected? Well, you know where my mind goes,” he said.
She lifted her head, pressing her chin on his shoulder. “But that doesn’t make sense.”
“I know. A few months ago, I tried to put Kara at all the crime scenes or connect her to them, but I got nothing. Plus, what would be the motive? Especially to kill your sister. So I then tried to trace it back to this Alley chick, and I thought I was getting somewhere, but she was deployed during three other murders, including Stephanie’s.” He rubbed his hand up and down her back in a tender, loving motion. Just like he’d done so many nights when they’d been together. “But my investigation has pretty much stalled out there.”
“Thank you.”
“For what?”
“For at least trying.”
“Besides being the detective in charge when we realized we had a serial killer, I cared about Stephanie. She was my friend. She was going to be my sister-in-law. I loved her too, you know.”
“I know.” She kissed his chest. “Do you really think we could be looking for a woman?”
“Female serial killers are rare, but they exist.”
“But do they kill that violently?” she asked.
“I’ve seen some pretty gruesome things in my day, and some of them have been achieved by girls.”
She inhaled sharply, letting it out in a big puff.
He reached out and tucked a piece of hair behind her ear. He gazed into her eyes, holding her captive. A year ago, all her hopes and dreams came in the form of Jagar Bowie. He was the sun that warmed her skin and the air that filled her lungs.
But they were doomed from the beginning.
She knew it then, and she knew it now.
Yet, if he kissed her, she wouldn’t stop him.
His warm hand slipped under her shirt. His fingers fiddled with the elastic on her thong.
Her breath came in short choppy pants as she continued to stare into his smoldering gaze. He’d been an intense and demanding lover, but she freely caved to whatever he wanted, because she craved exactly the same thing. Their lovemaking had often been rough and urgent. It was as if they could never quite get enough of each other.
Or they were terrified that tomorrow it would all be over.
Right now, lying in his arms, she just wanted to enjoy the moment.
“Do you remember the first night we camped here?” he asked.
She laughed. “You sent me a text daring me to meet you at the ferry dock. We’d only been out together once or twice.”
He lifted his head and gently brushed his mouth over hers. “We had wild, crazy sex twice. I wouldn’t call that having gone on a date. Our little camping trip would be what I consider that. It’s where we really got to know one another as people, not adversaries.”
She palmed his cheek. “Why’d you bring me here tonight?”
“To remember who we once were and to forgive all the crap.” He curled his fingers around her wrist. “When you showed up at my apartment to tell me you were leaving Seattle and you planned on writing this book, we both ended up saying a lot of shitty things to each other. I honestly believed I’d never see you again. I thought my heart stopped at Levi’s send-off party. I wanted to hate you. I wanted to blame you for everything that happened, and I really tried to. I’d been holding on to it for so long that I believed the narrative I had created. However, the truth is you said some things that hit too close to home, and I didn’t want to take a deep look at myself. Moving to Whidbey, and giving myself some space and time, forced me to do exactly that.”
“I know what you mean. You were right about certain character flaws about me.” She snuggled in closer, pushing her knee between his legs. “Can we just let all that go now and work together so I can get the book done and maybe give the cold case unit something to work with? My goal is still to find Stephanie’s killer.”
“I’m good with all of that as long as you don’t let it consume you. I want you to promise me that you will write your next crime book and move about the country and live your life. Don’t stay stuck.”
“I promise.” Lying to him came too easily. She’d never put
