Cameron nodded his assent, glancing at Serena to see if she was going to protest the arrangement. But her face was devoid of any telltale signs. It was as if he weren’t even there, and she were somewhere else.
“Serena,” Olson said, spreading his arms wide. “Always a pleasure.” He hugged her to him again, perhaps a little too hard. Then, as if realizing he’d allowed his emotions to overpower him, Olson stepped back. “Sorry, it’s just that it’s so good to see you again after all this time.”
Nodding at Cameron, Olson got into his car and drove away.
Cameron opened the passenger door for Serena, still looking after Olson’s vehicle. “I’ve never seen him that emotional before.”
Serena slid in and buckled her seat belt as Cameron closed the door, then rounded the hood. “He was close to my father. I guess maybe, if I look as much like my mother as he seems to think, it shook him up a bit.”
Cameron started the car, then shifted into reverse. He glanced at Serena before looking behind him as he backed out. “You do look like your mother,” he agreed. “At first glance.”
“And at second?”
He didn’t even have to think about it. “Well, for one thing, your mouth is softer. And your eyes are a hell of a lot kinder.”
That wouldn’t have taken much. If she was offended, her mother’s glance could have frozen a lake in July. “You seem to have made a study of my mother.”
“No, just of you. Once,” he qualified. After a moment’s debate, Cameron chose the shortest route back to the precinct. He figured Serena would prefer it that way.
“Why did you stop arguing with him back there?” He looked at her as they drove down a long street the kids referred to as Mission Row. There was a church of a different denomination in the center of each of the six blocks between the two main thoroughfares. “You’re not convinced.”
It wasn’t a question. Her mouth curved slightly. Cameron could still read her like a book, she thought.
“No, but something he said is bothering me.”
“That there was no evidence of an intruder?” Cameron guessed. It seemed to be the most likely choice.
“No. Although I think there was evidence, they just didn’t see it.” She shifted in her seat so that she could face Cameron more easily. Excitement began to build in her voice as she talked. “Aunt Helen never allowed me to read anything about the case. Never spoke about it, or let me ask any questions.” It had frustrated her at the time, although she knew it was just her aunt’s way of protecting her. “She felt it was best if I put the whole thing behind me and never looked back. That meant no exposure of any kind to what happened. I never knew the details.”
That had been wrong, Serena thought, to allow herself to be ruled that way. She should have insisted that her aunt tell her, or let her read the accounts on her own. She’d owed that to her father.
“And?” Cameron pressed, stopping at a light. What was she leading up to?
Over to the right, he saw the high school where he and Serena had once gone. A few summer school students straggled about, gathering near the entrance. He could remember standing there with her. Making plans, thinking about the future.
With effort, he shut out the sudden onslaught of memories. Wouldn’t do either one of them any good, he reasoned.
“My father knew nothing about guns,” Serena was saying. “And he had terrible coordination. He couldn’t hit the proverbial side of the barn with a football.”
“So?” He thought he knew the point she was getting at, but wanted to let her tell him herself.
Serena frowned. Didn’t he see? Or was he blind, like the others? “Doesn’t it strike you as strange that a man who wasn’t anywhere near being a marksman could kill someone with a single bullet fired across the room?”
“Ever hear of a lucky shot?” he asked. “Besides, who said it was a single shot?” Cameron had never read the report, and his memory of the newspaper accounts was vague. “Maybe he got off several rounds and one of them just happened to be dead center and killed her.” It sounded cold and dispassionate, but something had to shake her up and get her to give this up now, before she was hurt again.
But even as he tried to reason with her, Cameron could feel himself beginning to have doubts of his own, to waver just a little. Right now, he couldn’t have said if it was because he was being influenced by who was making the suggestions, or because what she was saying actually had merit.
Serena shook her head. “He didn’t get off several rounds. There weren’t any bullet holes in the walls.” When he looked at her, she added grimly, “I checked.”
His eyes widened. “You went into their bedroom?” It hadn’t even occurred to Cameron until just now that she would actually go into the room where the murder and suicide had taken place.
Serena nodded slowly. Someone had washed the blood from the walls and repainted them. A new rug had been laid in place of the old one. But when she went in, all she could see was the way it had been that night, when she had found them, both dead, both soaked in their own blood. Even now, she had to struggle not to shudder.
“How else was I going to find out?” she answered, her voice toneless.
She had guts, he thought. It wasn’t a word he would have applied to her before. Something very much like admiration began to nudge its way forward.
“The odds of that ‘lucky shot’ are highly unfavorable. Someone else was there that night, Cameron. Someone who could fire from that distance and hit what he was aiming at.”
“And then what—force the gun into your father’s hand and make him shoot himself?”
It was all pure conjecture, the last of it almost bordering on fantasy. If there had been this mysterious intruder, where would he have hidden while the police combed the area? For that matter, Cameron thought, looking at Serena, where would he have gone to avoid running into Serena? According to what he did remember reading about the case, she had been on the scene rather quickly. She would have seen someone if there was anyone else there to see.
“Maybe. I don’t know,” she answered honestly, frustrated. But there was a way she could know. Maybe. “Cameron, take me to where the file on the case is stored.”
He should be getting back, he thought. Olson might not be at the precinct, but that wasn’t an excuse for him not to finish the paperwork he kept meaning to get to.
“Serena—”
The carefully constructed barrier between them vanished.
“Please.” She touched his arm, underlining the urgency she felt. “Two of us looking can find it faster.”
Cameron made a vain stab at putting her off, knowing it was futile even as he did it. “We can’t just go waltzing in.”
“We’re not waltzing,” she insisted. “You’re a police detective, and you said Uncle Dan gave his okay.”
He thought about it as he waited for the light to change to green. By the time it did, his mind was made up.
“Yeah, I did say that. And you’re right, we need to see that report for more details.”
Questions were beginning to form in his own mind. She had raised an interesting point and while he did believe that sometimes a man could get off a stray shot and hit what he was hoping to, the odds were grossly against it. He needed more information.
Relieved, Serena sank back in her seat as Cameron made a U-turn at the end of the block.
We. He’d said we, she thought. Did that mean he was beginning to believe her? She stole another glance at him. Sunlight bounced along the side window, outlining his chiseled features. It was a strong chin, a noble face, she thought. He’d been her knight in shining armor once. And then his armor had tarnished.
But the feelings were still there, Serena realized, buried, hidden, denied, but there nonetheless. It was her cross, she supposed. That, too, Serena knew she had in common with her father. She fell in love once and she fell in love forever.
Serena bit her lower lip. “You’re not going to get into trouble over this, are y
ou? Bringing me along, I mean.”
He kept his eyes on the road. It was easier that way than looking at her, wanting her more with each glance he took. “Does it matter?”
She reacted instantly to the cold voice, contracting, pulling in.
“Not in the long run, but...” Still, it wasn’t fair to jeopardize his career. “I don’t want to see you get any flak over this, either.”
Was she just making conversation, or did she mean it? Once he would have been able to answer that with certainty; now he wasn’t sure.
“Thanks for asking. Let’s see who’s the keeper of the files before I give you a detailed answer.” If it was someone he knew, there’d be no problem with bringing a civilian along.
He didn’t know the sergeant in charge from Adam. Or, in this case, Eve.
Sergeant Han Li looked up at Cameron over the rim of her half glasses. She pushed them up when they slid the short distance down her nose.
“Got any written authorization to browse, Detective?” she asked.
Cameron tried to gauge whether or not the stiffness he saw was a put-on, or genuine. “Verbal. The chief said it was okay. You can call him at the precinct to check it out.”
“All right.”
“But...” Serena began, tugging on Cameron’s sleeve. Had he forgotten that Uncle Dan had left them to go to an appointment?
Cameron said nothing, only placed his hand over hers to quiet Serena. Belatedly he realized what he was doing. It felt good, touching her like that. As if they could still communicate without words.
Their eyes met, and he smiled before dropping his hand.
Serena looked away, afraid that he could see too many things he wasn’t supposed to in her eyes.
Leaning back in the crammed wire-meshed cubicle that served as an office, the dark-haired woman pushed a preset button on the telephone. Instantly she was connected to the main desk at the precinct.
“Chief Olson, please. This is Sergeant Li at the warehouse calling. What? Oh, okay. No, no message. Thanks.” She replaced the receiver. “He’s at a meeting and can’t be reached.”
Sergeant Li exhaled, blowing at the fringe of bangs just above her eyes. “I guess it’s all right, if you say so.” She got up and came around to the front of the cage. “Let me show you where we keep the old files.”
The woman made her way along the narrow corridor to the back of the rectangular building. Opening a door that had faded to a discolored shade of gray, she gestured into the room. The old meeting room was long and narrow, running the length of the rear of the building. It was also very dusty.
“This is where the town council used to chew the fat and the Little League leaders would argue over who got who on what team each year.” She grinned as Serena stifled the urge to sneeze. “Sorry about the dust. Nobody comes in here if they can help it.”
It was easy to see why. There were boxes everywhere, clumped together in large and small groups with no apparent pattern.
Cameron walked in first, hands on his hips as he surveyed the layout. He felt as if he’d just been asked to find a single chaff of wheat in a cornfield.
“Is there a system?” he asked the sergeant as she began to leave.
“Yeah, braille.” The grin flashed again. “You feel your way around.” She stopped to consider the question seriously. “Actually, I think Edda started to label the boxes by year, but then they retired her.”
“Edda?” Serena asked.
Cameron remembered Edda. She was related to Miss Judith by marriage, although the way she used to talk his ear off each morning when he came in, he would have said it was by blood.
“The first secretary the precinct had,” Cameron told Serena. “She was with them for over thirty years. They forced her to retire earlier this year. Nobody knew exactly how old Edda was, but it had to be way over sixty-five.”
“Was?” Serena repeated. “Is she dead?”
“I don’t know.” He looked at the sergeant, but she merely shrugged.
“Beats me. I’ve got a hard enough time trying to keep up with what’s going on these days.” She took another look at the boxes, then shook her head. Better them than her, her expression said. “Well, good luck. Check with me when you’re through.” She closed the door behind her.
“Looks pretty bad, doesn’t it?” Cameron judged.
Serena had already opened the box closest to her. “This is no different than the weeds in the garden. You just start with the first one.”
It was a good working philosophy. Cameron took off his jacket and tossed it on the lone chair in the room. “Yeah. You know, you’ve gotten a hell of a lot more determined. I think I like it,” he commented.
Because his remark pleased her, Serena felt uncomfortable. What he said wasn’t supposed to mean anything to her anymore. When was she going to get herself to remember that?
“Don’t you have to be someplace?” She quickly flipped from one file to another, reading the names that were typed or, in some cases, printed across the top. She tried not to think how many there were in the room.
She was pushing him away again, even though she clearly needed him here. There was no way the sergeant was going to allow Serena to remain here by herself. Cameron resigned himself to the constant tug-of-war with his patience.
“I’ve got some time coming to me. I’ll put in for half a day.” He’d rather not make the call in front of the sergeant. Cameron thought of the phone in his car. “Wait here, I’ll be right back.”
Serena, on her knees in the corner, looked around at the boxes on all sides of her. “Doesn’t look like I’ll be going anywhere anytime soon.”
He nodded. That looked obvious, but with Serena, Cameron thought as he hurried out the door, you never really knew for sure.
Chapter 7
Cameron put in a call to the precinct on his cell phone. He left word that he had some personal business to take care of and would be in by the second half of his shift. And then, impulsively, he made another call, this time to Rachel.
When he returned to the oppressively warm storage room, Cameron found Serena on her knees, buried in the center of a pile of boxes. She was completely absorbed in her search. He debated leaving the door open, then decided to close it. It was hotter this way, but he had a hunch that Serena preferred not being observed without her consent.
He crossed to her. Serena looked up, startled, when she finally realized that he’d returned. Cameron was less than a foot away from her.
Serena was pale, he thought. She obviously didn’t take well to being surprised. Small wonder, given her background.
“Just me,” he assured her. “Cameron.”
He’d never been “just” Cameron, Serena thought. Not even from their very first meeting. He’d been all of eight at the time, and it had been in the schoolyard. She remembered it vividly. Even then, something had told her he was special.
She sighed, closing the box and pushing it over to one side. One down, she thought, a hundred to go. “I appreciate your doing this.”
He laughed shortly. “Yeah, that’s me, Saint Cameron.” And then a smile slipped into place. “If you really appreciate this...”
Wariness was second nature to her. She hated being its prisoner, but at the same time, she was resigned to it. “Yes?”
He squinted at a particularly illegibly written label. It seemed that the original Bedford Police Department—of one full-time officer and one part-time volunteer—had been slow to spring for a typewriter. “You’ll reciprocate and do me a favor.”
Serena stopped thumbing through the files. “What kind of favor?”
He could feel her eyes on him, sense her wariness. Just what did she think he was going to ask for? “Get Rachel off my back.”
Serena slipped her thumb between the files to mark her place and frowned. That sounded like an odd request. “How?”
“Come to dinner tonight,” he answered mildly, as if having her over were a common occurrence, instead of a shaky first step f
orward. “She’s been hounding me ever since she heard you’d returned.”
Serena didn’t remember exaggeration being one of his faults. She didn’t remember Cameron having any faults at all. Until he’d deserted her. “I’ve been back only three days,” she pointed out.
He laughed. As if that would have mattered to his sister. “Trust me, Rachel can pack a hell of a lot of hounding into a short amount of time.”
Trust. That was just the problem. She had trusted him, completely. And paid the price. Serena began to make an excuse, then shrugged and allowed “No” to turn into “We’ll see.”
They were just racing along here, weren’t they, he thought sarcastically.
“Okay, but if you decide not to come, it’s on your head if she skins me.” He got a paper cut just as he came to the end of the box, and popped the finger into his mouth before it could bleed.
The sight of the big, virile police detective sucking on the side of his index finger like a small, petulant boy made her laugh, and that made all the difference in the world.
Maybe she needed this, Serena thought. Maybe she needed to see Rachel, to see someone from her past who had nothing to do with all this ugliness that had colored her life for so long.
“Okay.”
He looked at her, surprise and pleasure in his eyes. No cajoling, no arm-twisting. That had been a great deal easier than he’d anticipated. He owed Rachel one, he thought.
“Okay,” Cameron echoed under his breath as he pulled over another dusty box.
Funny how a single word could completely change a man’s mood. Cameron began to plow through the files with alacrity.
“Anything?”
Cameron asked the question as he made the turn down Anderson, the street that eventually fed into the new civic center. He had his doubts about whether Serena had even heard him. She’d had her nose buried in the case file ever since they left the old civic center. He was almost afraid, for her sake, to hear what she’d discovered.
Serena Mckee's Back In Town Page 8
