Camille could only hope that was true as the tech walked away to survey his own corner of the house. She then began her own search; looking for even the slightest thing that might have been missing or out of place. From what she could tell, everything was as she remembered it before she left for the Brown Palace, right down to her father’s car keys and wallet sitting in their usual spot near the kitchen table.
She continued her methodical walk through the house as the CSI techs worked around her. She wasn’t sure what they were supposed to find, but she appreciated their presence, as well as the gesture by a good friend that brought them here in the first place. Had the promise to find her father been made by anyone other than Chloe, it would have felt hollow. But Detective Sullivan was as good as they came. And if she promised a positive outcome, Camille had no choice but to believe her.
As she trailed the techs through the house, she was finding very little to sustain that belief. Then she came upon the delivery box on top of the foyer end table. Aside from the fact that it hadn’t been here when she and Meredith left the house, what most caught her eye was the plain white shipping label with its crude scribbling of her name. She instinctively reached for it but quickly stopped herself.
“Chloe, come look at this.”
The detective rushed over. Her eyes were already fixed on the box. “What is it?”
Camille shrugged. “Apparently it was delivered this afternoon while I was gone.”
“Were you expecting a package?”
“No.”
Chloe called over her shoulder. “Hey Rob, check this out.”
The tech walked over, adjusting his latex gloves as he did. “What is it?”
“We’re not sure,” Chloe answered. “It was delivered this afternoon.”
Robert picked up the small box. “It’s light. Feels like paper inside.”
“It could be pictures my dad ordered for all I know,” Camille said, not believing one word of it.
“Or it could be something else,” Chloe warned.
Camille nodded and held her breath as the tech took out a Swiss Army knife and cut gently along the edge of the box.
“Definitely looks like a piece of paper,” the tech confirmed as he peeled back the top. “Odd one, though.”
“What do you mean by odd?” Chloe asked, craning her neck to get a better look.
Her question was answered when the tech took out a pair of tweezers and lifted the paper out of the box.
“My God, are those blood stains?” Meredith asked, her voice muffled by the hand covering her mouth.
“Four of them,” the tech confirmed.
“Spatter?” Chloe asked as she inspected the black page dotted with red.
“No. The pattern is precise, almost as if they came out of a dropper.”
“And the names written underneath?”
The tech shrugged. “No idea.”
The group turned to Camille.
The four female names were written in white marker, in the same crude penmanship that was evident on the shipping label. Camille didn’t recognize the names, but she knew who they were. The phone call that she now knew she had to make to Special Agent Crawley would most likely confirm her suspicion.
There would be no more time to weigh the pros and cons of joining his task force. The copycat had just made the decision for her.
“Do you know what any of this means?” Chloe asked.
“Look on the back,” Camille answered in a solemn voice.
Chloe turned the paper over. Beneath the traces of blood that had seeped in from the other side she saw three names written the same as the four on the other side. But unlike those names, the ones she looked at now were very familiar.
Jacob Deaver
Paul Grisham
Camille Grisham
A question mark occupied the space under Camille’s name.
“He’s leaving his options open for victim number eight.”
Silence filled the room while everyone attempted to process Camille’s words. But for Camille there was nothing left to process. She knew what needed to happen next. In her heart of hearts she always knew it would come down to this, whether through Daniel MacPherson’s design or some other unforeseen circumstance. But she never could have imagined this full circle moment would come with such dire personal stakes.
Daniel Sykes would be most proud of his fledgling protégé, whoever he was. Camille now knew it would be her job to find him. “Would you excuse me for a moment? I have a phone call to make,” she said before quietly slipping into her father’s office.
True to his reputation as the most emotionally-barren man on the planet, Special Agent Peter Crawley didn’t waste a second of time with personal pleasantries.
“Let me guess, Camille. You received a note too.”
EPILOGUE
MISSION STATEMENT – BY JACOB DEAVER
At least I’m not alone. I take solace in that fact, though perhaps I shouldn’t. It is a selfish thought, and considering the circumstances, a completely heartless one. The truth is I wouldn’t wish my current circumstance on anyone else in the world.
Paul Grisham is strong. But he is losing his will, much like I am. We have been told that our suffering has not been in vain, that it is serving a much higher purpose. The purpose, we are told, is justice. Justice for twenty-seven people who died needlessly. Justice for the families who continue to grieve over their loss.
What about our suffering? What about our families?
My original ambition was to write a book about Daniel Sykes, the man who I am told is ultimately responsible for the misery that I am enduring. But my ambitions have since changed. My only purpose now is to stay alive, and the only way to do that is to tell the Daniel Sykes story the way it should have been told in the first place: through the eyes of those who continue to suffer from his actions.
I have come to learn that theirs is the only truth that matters. Theirs is the only truth worth telling. That truth isn’t just about grief and loss and pain. It is about love. It is also about vengeance. Vengeance against the one who allowed it to happen. Vengeance against the one who tried to wash the blood of twenty-seven people off of her hands without thinking anyone would notice.
Someone noticed. And this is his time.
The message I am charged with delivering is very clear. Camille Grisham can no longer run. She can no longer hide. She can no longer keep the truth of who she is from the world.
At least I am not alone here.
But if Camille doesn’t step forward to accept the justice due her, I fear that it will not stay that way much longer.
~JD
COMING SUMMER 2015
THE DARKEST POINT
A CAMILLE GRISHAM NOVEL
The Other Daniel - A Camille Grisham Novella Page 6
