Page 71 of Sinner's Saint

“That won’t be necessary.”

“All for the best.” He slapped the folder onto the counter. “We both know what I’d find.”

“I’m only human.”

“Not much longer at the rate you’re going.” Dr. Stein released a crude laugh. “I’ve asked you to give up the solo running and I’ve asked you to ditch the cannabis. You were doing alright with the alcohol until recently. You’re a doctor yourself, Dayton, so tell me, what do you do with insubordinate patients?”

When it became clear he wasn’t going to respond, the doctor carried on with his spiel. “You know I can’t give you beta blockers because of your unique comorbidity, so I’m afraid if you can’t follow the lifestyle changes I suggest, I have to release you from my care.”

Time slowed. The clock’s second hand teetered back and forth, stuck in place, rather than moving forward. And even with a moment to think, he still acted against the premature regret he felt.

Extending a hand, Dayton said, “I suppose we’re finished, if that’s the case.”

* * *

Though he admitted it was his own doing, Dayton was miffed at having been officially released. He was the only physician in the area seasoned enough—and, quite frankly, the only one willing—to take on a patient in his condition.

The search for a replacement provider was bound to be extensive and exhausting, and it would involve driving to Portland, perhaps farther, for appointments.

Yes, the process would require a great deal of time and energy, something he possessed little of at present.

A more urgent matter had to be dealt with.

Rows upon rows of diamonds gleamed within the confines of the glass display case. The last time he’d given a woman a ring, it had been thrown at him while he was dragged away in handcuffs. He knew purchasing another was gambling with fate. There was no guarantee his engagement to Kenna wouldn’t end the same way.

“Let me know if there’s a particular piece you’d like to take a closer look at,” said the gray-haired woman behind the counter.

Dayton half-nodded in assent. He had few brain cells available for processing speech. His mind was a million places at once. Reynolds had not made an appearance in a while but he feared he was still observing from afar. Monitoring him.

Or at least that was the scenario he needed to believe if he wanted to survive. Hence the trip to the jewelry store.

He had to be prepared to one-up Reynolds on the off chance something was discovered that put him, rather than Sanders, behind bars for life. At least he’d get proper medical care.

If Kenna were to testify during the Greene trial, it’d be the opening of Pandora’s box.

Dayton had roped her into spending the night after her heartfelt confession at the bonfire and she’d accepted, not because they had entered some higher level of intimacy, but rather she knew he had a cardiology appointment the following morning.

Meaning, she’d have the entire house to herself.

Kenna had been to his home countless times but she had never been alone in the space, free to roam and peruse without the threat of his watchful gaze.

First, she chose the backyard—somewhere she had seen only through the bedroom windows.

The yard was lush but modest in size. Unfenced. There was a well-manicured garden, not dissimilar to the one at the front of the house, along with some rose bushes and youthful trees. She half expected to find a creepy shed. There was nothing of the kind. Instead, he kept his bare-bones assortment of yard tools and fertilizer beneath a tarp against a corner of the house.

Kneeling by a section of the garden, she was overwhelmed by an array of scents that were anything but floral. She smelled ginger, honey, and coffee grounds. She recalled seeing Dayton slip through the back door carrying a plate piled high with decaf remnants and tea leaves.

Incredible. He even manipulated the soil.

For all Kenna knew, the patch of dirt could’ve been riddled with the teeth of lovers past.

Why did she continue to leave room for the possibility that he was a killer? He didn’t have the best track record for repressing carnal urges with the likes of his former patients and mentees, but that didn’t mean his malevolence bent to more violent ends. Even after what Reynolds had revealed. She herself had said coincidences often pointed to guilt, but his guilt in this scenario would bury her.

Spreading her hand in the soil, she was greeted by the cold, wet earth molding around her skin. Kenna welcomed that sensation, letting it calm her and chase away the paranoia.

There was an explanation. Missing pieces, like always.

Once inside, she scrubbed the dirt from under her nails at the kitchen sink. She considered the living room briefly but her footfalls guided her to the bedroom.

---