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I step out of the car and walk to the bottom of my steps. Carl watches me from the driver’s side and makes no move to leave. I shake my head and roll my eyes in his direction before turning up my steps.
I’ve always loved my place. It isn’t anything fancy, and my neighbors are nice, but something about the breezeway feels different. I walk further down until I’m at my door. It’s wide open, and I can hear someone inside. Instinctively I reach for my gun, but it isn’t there.
“Fuck,” I curse under my breath.
I step through the door and look around. Everything still seems to be in its place. The chain is still attached to its nook and hanging on the door from when Lucas busted in. The Monkshood flowers are on my table, wilted and dying, and my living room is still a wreck with a few clothes scattering the floor and stacks of books on my coffee table.
Once I’m satisfied no one is in the main areas, I walk toward my bedroom. I see a tall man with sandy hair going through my drawers. His back is to me, but I know I won’t win a fight. His muscles are rigid and large under his shirt, and he has a good foot of height over me. It won’t stop me from trying though.
I pull my comb from the pile in my hands and hold it with its point up and quietly set down everything else. “Who are you?” I blurt, ready for the man to turn around and charge me.
He turns, letting me see his face.
“What the actual fuck, Cameron!” I scream. “I could have killed you!”
Relief floods me when I see it’s him, but after the adrenaline of it dies down, dread starts to creep in. I’ve always had a disdain for him. I’ve never been able to put my finger on why, but seeing him dig in my panty drawer does nothing but solidify my feelings.
“Charlie!” he exclaims. “Where have you been? Sloan said he hasn’t seen you for a couple of days and was worried. I was coming to check in.”
I suck my teeth. I never see Sloan on a regular basis. Why would he be worried that I haven’t been around? I could understand if maybe we talked every day, but we don’t. I study Cameron’s face to see if I can pick up on a lie. Does he believe what he’s saying, like any liar would, or does he really think Sloan is worried?
Ah, there it is. He won’t look me in the eye, and his hand twitches the slightest bit like he’s waiting for me to say something, anything, to let him know I believe him.
He isn’t in uniform, but there is still a gun tucked into the front of his pants. With the angle, I can see scratches and small gashes in the metal where a serial number would be. “Packing when you aren’t in uniform? Kind of bold, don’t you think.”
He looks to his piece and pulls his shirt to cover it, then back to me. “Well, I wasn’t sure what I would find here. I wanted to be prepared.”
Normally a cop would carry their service weapon. Sure, they shouldn’t use it, but what cop do you know that carries a Beretta with the serial number scratched off?
I look around my room nonchalantly, trying to pick up anything that may be out of place. From what I can see, everything is fine. “Tell Sloan I’m fine. And next time, maybe try to pick up a phone.” I point behind me with my thumb, telling him to leave without saying the words.
His eyes bounce around the room quickly before he steps toward the door. “Sure thing. Glad you’re okay, Charlie.”
I watch as he disappears out of my front door. After a few seconds, I peek out into the hallway and see him going down the stairs. I close my door, then bolt back to my room. Him being in my drawer isn’t a big deal. Hell, he could have stolen all my panties for all I care, but I had something in there I didn’t want anyone to know about.
I dig through the piles of already messed-up Victoria’s Secret panties until I finally find what I’m looking for. It’s a key I found in my dad’s personal items. The morgue gave it to me after their examination. I never figured out where it went and didn’t want to ask around. Something in my gut told me someone would want the key, so I’ve always hidden it. To know Cameron was so close to finding it does nothing but make me want to vomit.
I sink to my floor and grip it to my chest before letting tears flow down my face. Cameron is the least of my worries. I want to know what happened to my dad, but I just pissed away the only help I would ever get. I try to justify my leaving, but there is nothing to make it better. I know if it was the other way around, my dad would have stuck it out for me. He would fight and do whatever it took to figure out what happened to me, and I need to do the same.
I stand from my floor and wipe the tears from my face. I know what I need to do. I take one last look around, then run back to my front door and down the stairs, but pause before I reach the bottom. I hate Teddy, but he’s right. I’ll do whatever he wants to get answers. But first I want to make him fester and question things the same way I have been. I’m not going to run back to him right away.
