by Liz Isaacson
Still nothing.
“I saw you at the bidding for Rivers Merge. You lost.”
His face twitched the tiniest bit, and Dylan volleyed his gaze back to Cami. She sat with her arms folded, her face expressionless. He didn’t like this version of her. This masked, emotionless version.
“And then you came back.” She leaned forward and put her hands on the table. “I saw you at the build site. It was strange, because you’d lost, and yet you had folders of information.”
He blinked. She blinked back.
“You flooded those homes, didn’t you?”
“No.”
At least she’d gotten him to talk.
She gave a mirthless laugh that chilled Dylan’s blood. “Yes, you did. We’ll get that tape and see you on it, and then you won’t be able to lie anymore.”
“The tape is gone.”
“Right,” she said. “Just like you promised you’d never come to Three Rivers. By my count, you’ve been here three times. Today’s visit makes it four, and I’m willing to bet there are more.”
“Cami,” he said, and Dylan never wanted him to say her name again. His fists curled at his sides and he worked to unfurl them.
He shook his head, the softness that had entered his face evaporating.
“What is it, Wade?” She leaned closer, and Dylan’s internal alarms went off.
“Scoot back,” he whispered, keeping a close eye on Wade.
Wade looked at the one-way glass and said, “Look up the architect. That’s all I’m going to say.” He pressed his lips together, and Cami waited several long seconds before standing.
She rejoined them in the hall, a sigh heaving from her chest. “He means it when he says that’s all he’s going to say.”
“Who’s the architect?” Sheriff Bellsby asked.
“Thomas Martin,” Dylan said, his mind whirring. “He lived here in Three Rivers until he was twelve. He was at the diner at the same time as me. We talked for a few minutes, then he got his food to go, and he left.” Dylan watched Wade behind the glass, slumped at the shoulders.
“I get a weird vibe from Thomas,” Dylan said. “I can’t put my finger on it, but there’s something not right about him.”
“Maybe he was at the diner with you to make sure Wade had enough time to get the tape.” Cami looked at him with hope in her eyes. “Maybe they’re working together.”
“Not if Wade just named him,” Sheriff Bellsby said. “Let me get my men on finding this Thomas Martin fella.”
“That won’t be necessary.”
Dylan spun to find Thomas standing right behind him, a small tape in his hand. “I believe you were looking for this.” He extended the tape to the Sheriff but he never tore his disgruntled gaze from Cami.
Who was he? Why didn’t he like Cami? Why had he announced the winning bids and not Gerald, who had to work with all the winners? Dylan couldn’t answer any of his questions.
Things happened fast after that. Dylan and Cami went with the Sheriff to a viewing room, while Thomas was taken to a holding room until they could question him.
Sheriff Bellsby put the tape in and told the technician to find Sunday evening. They watched in fast-forward until the sun set.
“There,” the Sheriff said, but the technician had already slowed the footage. A plain, unmarked, white van pulled up to the curb, parking halfway out of the frame.
It didn’t matter that they couldn’t see the plate. Wade Wadsworth’s face was extremely recognizable as he got out of the van and opened the back. He collected some tools and made his way onto the build site, first entering homesite five. Then six. Then seven.
“He’s our guy,” Sheriff Bellsby said. He left Dylan and Cami sitting in the tiny tech room.
“How does Thomas play into this?” Dylan asked.
She looked as perplexed as he felt.
Maisie.
Dylan pulled out his phone, saying, “Stupid.”
“What?” Cami asked, peering at his screen as he pulled up an Internet browser.
“At the diner, I asked about his sister. He said she’d passed away. I thought I should look her up, but I didn’t have time.” He tapped and waited for the pages to load.
He found her obituary—and several other articles about doctor incompetence. He only had to scan a few lines of the article to know what was going on.
“Cami,” he said. “Your brother was sued for medical malpractice in the death of Maisie Martin.”
He looked up as if in slow motion. Cami stared at him in the same dream-like way. Then everything rushed forward again. “Let me see.” She snatched the phone from his hand and her eyes flipped left and right as she read.
“So he’s here for revenge,” she said, her face a mask of agony. She’d told Dylan she didn’t talk to her brother much—at least beyond arguing over fair wages for women.
In a single breath, her tortured expression dissolved, replaced with the fire Dylan often saw in her. “But what does Wade have to do with it?”
“He’s the grunt man,” Dylan said, shrugging. “He’s probably getting paid a lot of money, and he’s been promised that once you’re gone, he’ll get the bid on the rest of the phases.”
“Why not just give it to him, if that’s what Thomas wanted to do?”
“This way hurts more. Discredits you. Could ruin you right when you’re buying the business here.” Dylan was just guessing. He honestly didn’t know why Thomas was so upset. It sounded like his sister had come into the emergency room with a five percent chance of living after a devastating car accident.
“The charges were dismissed,” Cami said, her gaze dropping back to the dark screen.
“It’s been ten years,” Dylan said.
She lifted her eyes to his. “A long time to plan to ruin me, a woman who barely talks to her brother.”
“I called a friend in Amarillo to come question Thomas,” Sheriff Bellsby said. “He’s just arrived and been briefed.” He gestured for them to follow him, and Dylan tucked Cami’s hand in his as they went to another room with a one-way window.
Two men went into the room where Thomas stood staring at them through the window. He turned toward the pair of detectives, his face a placid mask of non-emotion.
Introductions were made. Small talk happened. Finally one of the detectives—a man named Detective Forge—sat at the table though Thomas hadn’t yet. “So tell us about the tape you gave to Sheriff Bellsby.”
“Wade Wadsworth brought it to the Rivers Merge build site and gave it to the construction foreman, Gerald Burnis. He claimed I had hired him to flood those three houses, which is preposterous.” He sank into the chair opposite Detective Forge. “I designed the entire development. Why would I sabotage thirty percent of the progress?” He spread his arms wide, his voice incredulous.
Dylan knew he had a piece of paper declaring him an architect, but the man was also an excellent actor—and an absolute liar.
“He’s lying,” he whispered to Cami.
She turned to him, and he could see the wheels of her mind turning in her eyes. “He hired exclusively Three Rivers tradesmen. What if he’s trying to sabotage all of us for some reason?”
Dylan searched her expression as he tried to imagine why anyone would do that. “He’d need a really good reason for that.”
“We’ll find out what it is,” the Sheriff said. “Why don’t you two get on out of here?” He cut a glance to the one-way window. “I have a feeling these two men will open up more without you here.”
Dylan wanted to argue, wanted to stay and make sure the person responsible for the flooding was punished, but he turned away.
Wasn’t up to him. And he still needed a nap so he could finish all the work he’d fallen behind on.
He got his nap—with Cami in his arms and that ring box staring him in the face.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Cami called in her emergency plumbing crew, and together with Abraham and Raul, she managed to get the parts and
equipment she needed for phase two of Rivers Merge.
She worked hard not to call the Sheriff every day, and as more days passed and she spent every evening after work with Dylan, she didn’t realize she hadn’t been updated in the case in over a week.
A detective hadn’t come to see her, ask her any questions. Gerald acted like he hadn’t accused her of flooding three houses. The Suits from Saddleback avoided her eyes whenever she crossed paths with them.
Cami didn’t care. She’d stood up for herself when she’d needed to, and she’d been right. Dylan had returned to her side, but she disliked going to his apartment and had taken to inviting him over to sample some of her Mexican cooking.
After all, that ring box just sitting under his tiny Christmas tree drove Cami toward the edge of insanity.
He came willingly, never questioning why she’d stopped wanting to come to his place. Cami hummed as she put a can of crushed tomatoes and a can of corn in her Spanish rice, stirring as Dylan burst through the door.
“Have you heard?”
She spun from her spot at the stove. “Heard what?”
“Thomas Martin’s father, Raston Martin, was found guilty of fraud and money laundering while he worked as the town’s accountant. That’s why they left town when Thomas was only twelve.”
Cami’s heart raced at the news. “So you think he was—?”
“I think he was going to discredit all of us. Sheriff Bellsby found a folder in his office in Amarillo that had the full build schedule, with notes about when plumbing would be done, and HVAC, and electrical….” Though his eyes shone, Dylan’s voice held a horrified tone.
Cami left her rice to simmer and crossed the room to him. “What did he think would happen? We’d all go out of business?”
“He had other companies—Amarillo companies who didn’t win the original bid—listed in the margins of the schedule.”
Cami couldn’t understand the level of pain and desperation Thomas must’ve felt in order to organize something so elaborate. “Has he admitted anything?”
“No, but Wade’s story fits with the Sheriff’s theory.”
Feeling tired after weeks of work and worry, Cami sank onto her sofa. “Wow.”
Dylan joined her, threading his fingers through hers. “Yeah. Wow.”
They existed together in companionable silence. So companionable, Cami leaned into his body and laid her head on his shoulder.
“Hey, you’re coming to Christmas Eve dinner at my parents’, right?”
“Wouldn’t miss it,” she murmured.
“My mother asked you to bring tamales.”
Cami glanced up at him. “She did?” From what she’d observed and been told, only Alecia brought food to the family dinners. Sally had claimed she didn’t care—“Less work for me,” she’d said—but Cami had seen the discomfort and jealousy on her face.
“I couldn’t stop talking about them.” Dylan grinned and pressed a kiss to the tip of her nose.
“What’s everyone else bringing?” she asked.
His face blanked. “I have no idea.”
Cami straightened. “Well, I’m not bringing something if no one else is.”
“Why not?”
“Because it will hurt your sisters’ feelings.”
Dylan frowned. “What are you talkin’ about?”
“Only Alecia brings food to the family dinners.” She sighed at the fact that he didn’t know this. “So I’m not bringing tamales if Sally and Rose aren’t bringing something. I don’t want to hurt their feelings.”
“Only Alecia brings food to the family dinners?” Dylan asked.
Cami sighed. “I’ll call your mom and ask her what everyone else is bringing.” She snuggled back into him. “When do you want to exchange gifts?”
“You got me something?”
“Duh,” she said with a giggle as his lips trailed across her earlobe. “You’ve got that fancy-schmancy ring box still sitting under your tree.”
“Maybe that’s not for Christmas.” His husky voice sent shivers through her, but she bolted upright anyway.
“Not for Christmas?” Her voice could’ve called dogs. “Dylan,” she whined.
He grinned at her, his usual calm and cool self. Leaning back into the couch, he lifted his arm along the back of it. “You want that ring, huh?”
“I’d like to see it, yes.” Was it made with diamonds? Cami sure hoped it was, but she was prepared for anything. She hoped.
“We can exchange gifts just before the dinner if you want.” He reached for her and she melted into his embrace, kissing him in a way she hoped told him she really wanted a diamond from him.
Christmas Eve found her in the elevator, on her way up to Dylan’s apartment, her stomach a jittery mess of nerves. Her gift came in an equally small package as his—the receipt for At Bat Premium, a service that would allow him to watch every baseball game, everywhere, all the time.
Dylan was incredibly hard to shop for, but she’d spent a few nights curled into his side while he watched baseball, and she hoped he’d like the subscription.
She knocked and entered his apartment as he came down the hall from his bedroom. “Hey.” He leaned against the wall and scanned her, the way he always had. “No wonder my mother loves you.”
She glanced down at her black pencil skirt and bright Christmas-red ribbed sweater, a smile forming on her face.
“I clean up nice.” He wore a pair of gray slacks and a navy blue polo with thin white stripes on the upper half. “So do you.” She moved into his embrace, inhaling that “toxic spill” cologne that had captured her attention from the start.
She kissed him, and he kissed her back, both hands sliding into her hair. Cami pulled away first, her jitters amplified by her worries about her gift. “Let’s get this over with.”
“Over with?”
“My gift is really lame.” She pulled out the jewelry box she’d bought at the drugstore and stuffed the receipt into. “But I thought you’d like it, and—” She stopped talking. She was justifying her gift, and she hated that.
He took the box, which she’d covered in silver paper, and pulled the wrapping off. He lifted the lid and made a huge show out of unfolding the paper.
“At Bat Premium.” A smile exploded across his face, and a laugh followed soon after that. “I’ve always wanted this.”
He swept her off her feet, still chuckling. “Thank you, sweetheart. This is perfect.” He set her back on her heels and moved over to his tree to collect the box.
Relief rushed through her for a few moments.
Then he dropped to one knee.
Tears sprang to her eyes. “Dylan,” she said in a warning tone.
“Camila,” he said back, cool, even, calm. “I’m in love with you. I can’t imagine anyone else I’d like to spend my life with.” He cracked the lid to reveal a baseball-shaped diamond that caused Cami’s heart to quiver.
“Will you marry me?”
It was her turn to beam and laugh and shriek, “Yes,” before launching herself into his arms. “I love you,” she whispered into his ear.
“That’s the only Christmas present I need.” He pulled back and gazed at her. “But I’ll take the baseball subscription too.”
She giggled as he removed the ring from the box and explained the two bands. “So I keep this one, and you wear this one. When we’re married, they get reunited.” He slid the diamond on her left ring finger, and Cami had never thought she could be as happy as she was in that moment.
He kissed her again and said, “Let’s go tell my family.”
Cami held onto him for an extra beat, then two, then three.
“Cami?” he asked.
She sniffed and tried to wipe her eyes before he saw, but she couldn’t. He watched her with curiosity. “I like this softer version of you,” he whispered, taking her hand away from her face. “Don’t hide it.”
“I’ve never really been great at being part of a family,” she said. “But I sure l
ove yours.”
He quirked a smile. “But me best, right? You love me best.”
She nodded, glad she could show him her softer side, and her fiery side, and just be herself with him. “I love you best, Dylan.”
He swept a kiss along her forehead. “Merry Christmas, sweetheart.”
Merry Christmas indeed.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Dylan swung the hammer again and again, sweat dripping from his forehead. So maybe he’d taken on a bigger chunk than he’d known when he’d bought this house.
But hey, the roof was new, and he did have a floor, so Cami couldn’t keep teasing him about those things. He had a backyard too—fully fenced once he’d put that in a few months ago—so Athena lived with him now. Had for months, almost when he’d told Cami.
And she couldn’t deny that she loved the German shepherd as much as he did. She brought her a ball every other week, and more often than not, it was Cami who took Athena to the park to play.
Of course, Dylan had devoted every waking moment of his life for the past six months to this house. He had floors his feet didn’t fall through. And all the rooms framed now. His bedroom was complete, and he’d even allowed Cami to paint it a nice light shade of blue and put in curtains. The kitchen was functional, and so was the bathroom.
Then he’d spent his time on the backyard, the fence, and now he was hammering, hammering, hammering on a new deck while Cami finished a weekend job. Then they were headed over to the downtown park, where the Summerfest was underway. She wanted a churro, and she was convinced they’d find some inspiration for their wedding in the booths that had been set up in the park.
Dylan wanted to do whatever Cami wanted, as he just liked spending time with her, even if it was wandering around a park and buying as many fried foods as they could get.
But he was going to get this deck done first, railings and all. He and Cami had talked about her moving into his place once they were married, and Dylan needed every spare moment between now and September in order to have the house and land ready for her.
“Knock, knock,” someone called, and relief ran through him.
