The Sinner - J. R. Ward Page 0,110

would you call me.”

“If you’re trying to get me to judge you, it won’t work.”

“I feel like I should be judged. Ten commandments and all.”

“That doesn’t matter.” He looked up into her face. “You matter. Your choice of what you want to do with your body is not an issue. It doesn’t change a damn thing.”

Mel touched her cheek where it was abraded. “How badly am I hurt? Do you think any of this is permanent?”

“No,” he said. “You’re still beautiful.”

The defeat in her eyes aged her. And the bruises and cuts, the blood and swelling, made him furious and despaired by turns.

“Listen, I know a doctor.” He cleared his throat. “She could come and check you out. She’s totally discreet.”

Mel shook her head and squeezed one of his hands. “I’ll take care of myself.”

“You really should have a doctor—”

“You think this is the first time something like this has happened?”

Butch closed his eyes briefly. “Shit.”

Releasing his palm, she pushed herself to her feet with a wince and lurched to one side. As she looked down at her shoes in confusion, she mumbled, “My heel broke off. I didn’t notice.”

“Let me take you home, at least? And is there someone we can call? Someone who can sit with you?”

“I shouldn’t have come. I just ran out of the club, and the next thing I knew, I was here. I just wasn’t thinking right.”

“Will you let me drive you home?”

She looked at the R8. “This is not how I imagined seeing you again.”

“Fate has a strange way of working things out.”

Behind the wheel of the Golf, Jo kept driving along, leaving the strip malls and the car dealerships behind, and proceeding into more open spaces where cemeteries, the community college, and part of SUNY Caldwell’s campus was. Things had been silent inside the car for a while now, and they were closing in on their destination. She couldn’t decide whether this was a good thing or not.

A part of her just wanted to drive around until dawn. As if everything on his mind, and all that was on hers, would maybe run out of gas before the VW did.

“So what about you?” Syn asked.

Jo cleared her throat and found it hard to know what to say; her thoughts were still bouncing around the details he’d shared about his own life. So it was on autopilot that she ran through her dossier.

“I was adopted. I grew up in Philadelphia in what would be considered an old family. I’m not close to either of my parents, I have no clue where my birth parents are, and I came to Caldwell for a job after I got out of college. Not married. Wouldn’t mind it, but it’s not a priority. Just moved into that apartment after living with some frat boys. Um . . . I’ve only just started reporting on things at the paper. I was hired to be the online editor. And I have a feeling I’m going to be out of work again soon.”

“Are things not going well for the Courier Journal?”

“You could say that.” She took her foot off the accelerator and let the Golf coast to a stop in the middle of the street. “And there’s one other thing.”

With a strange feeling in her heart, she looked up at the dilapidated entrance to the Brownswick School for Girls.

“Oh?” As Syn noticed where she was staring, he sat forward in his seat. “And what’s this?”

Jo tried to find the right words, but there were none. At least none that could guarantee him not to jump to conclusions about her mental health.

“I . . . ah, I’ve got a hobby, I guess you’d call it. I investigate supernatural things in Caldwell.”

When he just nodded calmly, she thought of his cosmetically altered teeth.

“But you maybe get it, right?” she said with hope.

“Does this place have something to do with your hobby?”

Jo let her eyes roam over the off-kilter wrought iron gates and the broken-toothed fencing that stretched in both directions, separating the shaggy grounds from the sidewalk, the road, the tended-to environs of the rest of the area.

“My mother went to school here. Back when it was a going concern.”

“Are you looking to speak with her ghost? Has she passed?”

“She was never really there in the first place.” Jo shook herself back to attention. “Sorry, I mean, she’s alive. She and my father still live in the house I grew up in.”

“Do you see them often?”

“No. We don’t have anything in common

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