First Chapter of Deadly Sins: Lust by Cheryl Bradshaw

Lust (n.) a passionate desire for something; a sensuous appetite regarded as sinful

Cairns, Australia 3 a.m.

Marissa Calhoun slid her narrow, black, four-inch heels off her feet, dangling the straps from her fingers as she walked along the wooden planks on the promenade. A week before, she had arrived in Australia to celebrate the upcoming wedding of her best friend Layla, and though it was her first visit down under, it wouldn’t be her last. In the short time she’d been there, she’d grown to love the vibrant, laid-back feel of the city, and tonight was no exception.

What had started as a group of five longtime friends had all but dropped off until she looked over her shoulder and noticed she had been talking to herself for much longer than she realized. A few hours earlier, downtown had been humming with boisterous activity, people popping in and out of bars, listening to music, sharing a few laughs with friends. With exception of the screeching of bats hiding in a fragrant mango tree nearby, the streets were weary and quiet now. Most were asleep in bed, but Marissa wasn’t ready to call it a night just yet. She had another five days of vacation before she returned to her normal life in the States.

Sleep could wait.

Her conscience, on the other hand, couldn’t.

It was restless, struggling with a secret she’d been keeping that made her skin burn like it was being branded over and over again. 

Marissa didn’t like secrets.

She wasn’t good at keeping them, either.

It wasn’t like her.

It wasn’t how she was raised.

But she’d been keeping one nonetheless, trying to convince herself that in this singular instance, deception was better than destroying the man she loved with the honest, bitter truth.

Now in her thirties, she’d finally married, and life was much different now. Evenings out with girlfriends all but ceased to exist anymore. Over the last week, she’d forgotten how much she missed it—how much she needed it, but her husband Nick was more of a “dinner and a movie at home” guy than the “night on the town” type. He liked her to be around when he returned from work, and she’d indulged his fancy because Nick made her happy, and because he was the first man who had deserved her in a long time.

Tired of walking, Marissa sat in front of the lagoon, a beach-like swimming hole along the city’s foreshore. She dipped her toes into the cool saltwater and swirled them around, creating a small, circular whirlpool with her big toe before patting it out with the bottom of her foot.

During the day the lagoon was brimming with families and tourists. Tonight it was hers, and hers alone.

Or was it?

Marissa swore she saw spotted a brief flurry of movement behind one of the lamp-lit trees in the distance. She blinked and stared at it for a moment, and then shrugged, deciding it was nothing more than one of the curious-looking, long-legged birds that frequented the area. Or perhaps it had been a moment of drunken stupor, and she should have been doing what her girlfriends were doing—sleeping it off.

The cool chill of the spring breeze swept across her face, and she closed her eyes, drinking in the freshness of the air. When she opened them, the same tree she’d eyed before cast a shadow in what appeared to be the shape of a person.

“Hello?” she said. “Is someone there?”

A tall figure stepped out from behind the tree, his face cloaked beneath a dark hoodie. Without uttering a word, the figure stumbled a bit and then took a couple steps in her direction. Her first instinct was to panic, but as she watched him stumble toward her, she noticed something—he seemed just as drunk as she was and far too lanky to trifle over.

Still …

Something about him seemed off … and strangely familiar.

To ease her concerns, she said, “Nice night, isn’t it?”

It looked like he’d attempted a nod, but he was still too far away for her to tell.

“What brings you to Cairns?” she continued. “Are you a local or just visiting the city?”

The man stopped and crossed his arms in front of him. He said nothing. And this time, Marissa’s nerves kicked in.

She stood, attempting to remain calm. “Well … my friends are waiting for me across the street. You have a nice night.”

The man looked over his shoulder, canvassing the establishments along the esplanade. None of their lights were on. Not a single one. He looked back at her, tilting his head to one side.

A sense of unease agitated Marissa like a dreaded phone call in the middle of the night. The last time she’d felt that way she’d returned to her car after a movie and found a note taped to her windshield—a letter left by her jilted ex-boyfriend, Shawn, whom she’d just broken up with that day. The note he’d left was a simple one. This isn’t over. I promise. I’m watching. She’d looked over her shoulder for weeks afterward, wondering if he was out there somewhere, hiding in the shadows, and whether he’d discovered the real reason she’d rejected him—not because they didn’t have a future together, but because she’d met someone else, Nick, a detective in Park City, Utah. She assumed it was the reason Shawn never made good on his threat of stalking her. Once he’d left the note, he was never heard from again. 

Marissa wiped the sand from her hands onto her dress and walked away, keeping a close eye on the man as she did. For now, he made no movement. He just stood on the sidewalk as if frozen in place. 

She shook her head and turned. Weirdo.

Footsteps slapped against the pavement, fast and hard, Twenty feet, then fifteen, then ten. He was close. Too close. Instinct kicked in, and she broke into a sprint, but before she could make it out of the lagoon, the fabric on her dress was yanked from behind, ripping. He tackled her to the ground. She grabbed at her attacker, but his strength far exceeded hers. His hand clawed into the back of her head. Grabbing a fistful of her hair, he plunged her face into the water, pressing down. Her muffled screams bubbled into the water. He held her there for a moment and then pulled her out, only to thrust her back down and pull her up again. It wasn’t until the third or fourth time she’d been jerked back out of the water that she realized her attacker was yelling.

“Why did you do this to me? Why did you do this to us?”

And there it was again—familiarity. The answer to the question about what was happening and why.

Through panicked tears Marissa uttered the last words she’d ever say before her head was plummeted into the water for the last time.

“I can’t believe … it’s … it’s you.”

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