The Camera Never Lies

by David Rawlings

  Eleven

  Daniel forced his fingers onto the keys of his laptop. “Chapter 1.” His fingers stopped, directionless. The cursor blinked on, and those two words stood alone on the screen.

  He stared at the ceiling, exhaling hard. He knew coming up with an idea for the next book would be difficult, but this difficult?

  “You wanted to see me, Daniel?” Jade stood in his doorway, looking nervous, fumbling fingers searching for something to hold.

  “I did. Come in.” Daniel reached for a box of tissues as she sat down on his sofa, her gaze anywhere but in his direction.

  Daniel leaned in and whispered, “Is everything okay?”

  Jade’s emotions burst from her as she snatched for the tissues. “It’s my dad. Secondary cancer.” She dabbed at the tears in her eyes. “How did you know?”

  Daniel handed over the box. How could he answer that question? “I just wanted to check in with you to make sure you’re okay.” Daniel examined his statement for a lie and found none.

  Jade sucked in racking sobs. “But I just found out about it yesterday. I’ve tried to be professional at work and not bring my stuff into the office . . .”

  “But I would hope you could talk about things going on in your life.”

  Jade looked up at him through the tears. “But your timing is incredible. It’s almost as if you knew . . . But how could you know?”

  Daniel couldn’t divulge the answer to that question. “If you want to take some personal time to handle your dad’s health . . .”

  Jade pressed a finger to shakily smiling lips. “Thank you for understanding. You have a gift of insight into people.”

  The usual compliment soured. Daniel knew there was something else; there was someone else. Whoever took that photograph of Jade was the one with the real insight. And he was about to find out who it was.

  * * *

  Ten unreadable faces sat around the boardroom at Crossroads Counseling.

  Daniel scanned them. Again. Two hints at personal space and nothing. His team presented a blank page.

  “Just to close our meeting, Anna has come up with a brilliant idea for a major milestone here at Crossroads. Our thousandth client has come through our doors.”

  Monique let out a soft squeal.

  “She’s suggested a dinner to celebrate, so I would like you all, everyone who has contributed to the success of Crossroads, to come to our place up on Clifftop Drive. Kelly and I will be pleased to welcome you to our home.”

  Monique squealed again into rising chatter around the table. This time the room was easy to read.

  Anna took over the conversation. “It was just a small suggestion to celebrate the wonderful work we do here, and I think we deserve to celebrate!”

  Daniel studied his staff. Maybe he needed to be more direct to give the person responsible the chance to own their intrusion into his privacy. “We’ve done great work here with the couples and families who’ve come to us.” He couldn’t help himself. He had to know. “But I want to say, if there’s anything you’d like to tell me, my door is always open.”

  Jade threw him a nod and a teary smile as the room quieted at Daniel’s sudden, awkward prying into their personal lives. He surveyed his team, looking for something. Anything. There was no reaction, save Monique’s beaming grin.

  “So if there’s nothing more”—Daniel again surveyed the room for a response—“let’s get back to work!”

  The meeting broke up with wary chatter. Monique sidled up to Daniel, her eyes roaming his wrists.

  “It’s such a great achievement to think we’ve saved a thousand marriages.” Her perfume wafted toward him and reached for his throat. “And I’d love to see your home.”

  Daniel stepped back to breathe professional distance into the conversation. Monique’s perfume edged forward. Behind Monique’s shoulder Anna’s eyebrow rose.

  “I’m not sure we’ve saved a thousand marriages, but we have at least tried. And it will be a great night of celebration for us all.”

  Daniel burst through the heady cloud and brushed past Monique on his way to his office. He’d lobbed indirect mentions of Gramps’s camera into the meeting, but there’d been no ripples. He had given the perpetrator the chance to come clean, but now he’d have to address each employee one at a time. Starting with Peter. But now there was a fresh problem. Anna’s eyebrow was on his case, and he was sure she would raise the issue of Monique again sooner rather than later.

  A soft rapping came at his door. Okay, sooner.

  Daniel didn’t even turn around. “I know what you’re going to say.”

  But Anna didn’t respond.

  “Wow, famous counselor and now mind reader?” Peter stepped into his office and perched himself on the center of Daniel’s sofa.

  Daniel backpedaled, searching for a one-liner that would turn an embarrassing revelation—and something a crack observer like Peter would latch onto—into a joke. “I’ve just done the finances, and I can’t afford to double your pay so you can get what you’re worth.”

  “You’ll never be able to afford what I’m worth.” Peter chuckled before drilling a look into Daniel. “I won’t keep you because we’ve both got clients, but is everything okay? In our meeting you made two veiled references to personal space and a couple of digs about your door always being open.”

  The moment to address Peter presented itself. “I’m glad you’ve raised it. I had Gramps’s camera on my desk all day yesterday, but as you pointed out, the film was already used up.”

  “Gramps’s last photos. Have you got them back yet?” The slate of Peter’s expression remained blank.

  “Yes, and they were all of people at work. The entire roll of film.” Daniel left the point hanging in the air.

  Peter’s stony gaze remained. “So who do you think it was?”

  Daniel steepled his fingers under his nose, allowing space in the conversation for Peter to fill. But unlike his clients, Peter was comfortable facing a weapon he himself wielded with ease.

  “My first thought was you.”

  Peter’s reaction wasn’t scrambling for an answer or fumbling for an apology. He reddened in offense.

  “You know me better than that.” He shifted on the sofa. “So was that what your comments were all about? You were ticked off that someone used your camera? Why didn’t you just ask?”

  Daniel couldn’t share his answer. It was more than someone using his camera. He needed to know who would take a photo of his book and erase his name from the cover.

  “And one of the photos was of my book.” He again left that point hanging in the air.

  Peter’s brow furrowed, and he studied his boss. “Well, we’re all fans of No Secrets around here, so it could have been any of us, I guess.”

  Monique’s beaming smile leaned into the doorway. “Peter, your nine thirty is here.”

  Peter headed for the doorway but then turned. “Just be honest with me next time, okay? And if I can say this as a friend—for all of us—we have to practice what we preach.” Peter nodded at the pile of books on Daniel’s desk. “And what we write about in bestselling books.”

  Daniel stared at the pile, and the nonappearance of his second book again reared its head. That was another part of his life where the pressure was an ever-tightening ratchet.

  A rapping came at his door, and a burgundy streak in defiance of gray appeared halfway up his doorway.

  And this was another.

  Twelve

  Kelly stood in Gramps’s favorite room, the afternoon sunlight warming her shoulders as it streamed through thinning, sheer white curtains. His tiny apartment felt smaller. They had removed only two boxes, but the place felt lesser for it. Only an old burgundy suede recliner pointed at a tiny television in the corner remained, the seat and armrests shiny from use. Hanging over one armrest was the sling containing his remote control and dog-eared crossword book.

  One last room, and Gramps would be consigned to memory. An entire life lived, a
rocky path forged, a complete journey navigated, and they were about to put the last of him into a box for disposal.

  Daniel’s mother walked into the room, dabbing at her eyes. All afternoon Charlotte had turned each item she touched over in her hands, the memories flooding back along with tears.

  “How is work, love?” Charlotte sniffled onto another subject.

  Kelly sighed. “It’s tough at the moment.”

  “Can’t you stay home with Milly?”

  Kelly’s preferred answer was easy. Reality was anything but. “No.”

  “Could you take another job closer to home?”

  Kelly tried to roll the rising tension from her shoulders. “My friend got me this one, and that took a while. Anyway, I won’t be there much longer, just until Daniel gets the rest of his advance.”

  Milly walked into the room swinging a pair of tortoiseshell reading glasses in her fingers. “What should I do with these?”

  Kelly stared at the thick lenses that no longer held a twinkle behind them. Milly placed the glasses in Kelly’s hand before withdrawing her phone from her pocket as she slid down the wall to the floor.

  Charlotte rushed over to Milly with all the fluster of a startled hen. “Are you okay, beautiful?”

  Milly looked up, her face bathed in the low light of her ever-present screen. “I know he’s already gone, but it feels like we’re packing him away, that’s all.”

  Kelly couldn’t have put it better herself.

  Charlotte stroked Milly’s hair. “How are you doing in school? I haven’t seen a report card for a while.”

  Milly gripped the phone tighter, her thumbs now stiff hammers tapping at the screen. “Okay, I guess.”

  Kelly could see it wasn’t. Come to think of it, she hadn’t seen a report card either.

  Hands on hips, Daniel stood in the doorway. “Well, this is it. Gramps didn’t have much, did he?”

  Charlotte’s voice lowered to a whisper. “He never did.”

  Daniel’s brow furrowed. “Gramps was a gambler, after all.”

  “Was he?” Charlotte sank onto the recliner, her hand covering her mouth. “So that’s what he meant when he said he’d beaten something that had beaten him.” She frowned as the tears came back. “How did you know? And why would he tell you but not me?”

  “He didn’t, but a photo in his album shows him tearing up a betting slip. I thought you must have known.”

  “I never saw that photo, and he never showed me his album.”

  “I guess he didn’t want to disappoint you.”

  “I guess not. That was so like him.” Her eyes clouded again. “It was special that he left that camera to you. May I ask what was in the letter?”

  Kelly snapped a look at Daniel. “What letter?”

  Daniel stared at his feet. “There was a letter with the camera.”

  Kelly hoped he would fill the silence with more, but Daniel moved past her and grabbed the television. Then he left the room.

  Milly’s voice floated up from the floor. “Why can’t you and Dad just talk?”

  Kelly was struggling to come to grips with that question herself. She flicked a glance at Charlotte, now a wide-eyed observer to the obvious conflict. “It’s not that easy sometimes when you’re a couple.”

  “I thought it would be easier if one of you was a marriage counselor.” Milly’s comment hung in the air as she stared harder into her screen.

  “No, it’s not easier. We’re both still people. But I would prefer it if we were all just honest with each other in our family.”

  Milly’s eyes clouded.

  “Actually, Milly, I haven’t seen your school report either.”

  Milly snapped a look at her, and then she slid back up the wall and headed for the door.

  Kelly watched her leave. How bad must her report be? And what was in the letter from Gramps? Even if it was personal, why wouldn’t Daniel share it with her? She shook herself out of her thoughts to see her mother-in-law studying her, eyes flicking between Milly’s back and Kelly’s confusion.

  She rose from the recliner and put a hand on Kelly’s arm. “How are you three doing?”

  “We’re busy, but so is everyone. Daniel’s business is flying.”

  “I’m so proud of the success of his practice.”

  “Well, he’s spending enough time there.” An opportunity presented itself, a chance to grill Charlotte about Daniel. “Does he ever mention work to you?”

  “Sometimes he keeps me up-to-date.”

  Kelly tried hard to keep her voice light, almost nonchalant. “Does he mention the staff at all?”

  “Sometimes, but it’s more about the people he helps, isn’t it?”

  Not really. Kelly pushed one more time. “Do the same names come up?”

  “I don’t think so.” She peered at Kelly. “Love, if there’s anything you need to know, you just need to ask him yourself.” And with that she left the room.

  Kelly felt her hackles rise in response to the condescension. It wasn’t that she’d been lectured about her marriage but that she had asked Daniel time and again. Yet he was a closed book. Or an angry open one.

  Daniel reappeared in the doorway, rubbing his hands. “It’s just so final. The recliner, and that’s it. We’re not giving this away. It’s going in my study.” He moved past her to pick it up.

  Kelly turned to leave behind the memory of Gramps’s favorite room, the job of packing him away almost complete. Why wouldn’t her husband talk about the letter?

  “Kelly? What’s this?” Beneath the cushion he’d taken off was a photograph. Daniel picked it up and looked at it closely. “That’s a bank statement, isn’t it? Beyond Bank—never heard of them before.”

  The blood drained from Kelly’s face. She had heard of them before.

  Daniel peered at the photograph even closer. “Why would Gramps take a photo of that?”

  Kelly snatched it from him. “No idea. I’ll ask your mother.” She had to get that photo away from Daniel in case the name on the account was hers.

  Thirteen

  The clouds hung over the ocean, whiter than they’d ever been. Lines of breaking waves feathered out from rocks Daniel had seen a hundred times from the cliff top, but now they thrust out of the water in a rich, lime-green coat of seaweed. The tall grass whipped at his legs, and the white-and-yellow flower heads that lined the path swept back and forth with vibrant life.

  Daniel lowered Gramps’s camera from his eye as the salty wind whipped his cheeks and tousled his hair. The clouds grayed over the muddy ocean. Simon might be at the annoying end of eccentric, but he was right about the camera’s clarity. This was his first chance to try it out. Finally.

  Behind him, Milly dragged her feet in the low-slung flowers. They’d always been close—many people said she was definitely his daughter—and what hurt him most was their growing distance. He could quote the textbook signs of teenage rebellion in his sleep, but he still wanted her to be his little princess, not the saddened version of a princess locked in a tower of her own making. He needed to fix her.

  Milly caught his eye and veered off the path toward the cliff’s edge. A tingle of parental anxiety leaped up Daniel’s spine.

  “Dad, how long do you think it would take to reach the bottom if you jumped?”

  They also shared a dark humor. “Good one, Mill.” Daniel studied her for signs of honesty rather than humor. He lifted the camera to his eye again, and she appeared in his vision, one foot off the cliff.

  “Milly!” Daniel all but dropped the camera as he rushed forward to grab his daughter.

  She was no longer on the edge. She stood by the path, hands in pockets. “What?”

  “If you think it’s funny, it isn’t.”

  “Is what funny?”

  A light wind whipped between them as Milly approached him. “Can I hold Gramps’s camera?”

  Daniel held it out to her, and she took it, her hands dipping with the weight. She inspected its size and then ran a
finger along the knobs on its top and the window on its back. “How does the film work?”

  “It goes in the back, runs across the lens, is collected on the other side, winds back, and then you take the canister to a film processing place.”

  Milly lifted the camera to her eye and scanned the horizon. “Film processing place? Why not just download them?”

  “Download them?” Daniel laughed. “No, I have to take them to a film lab. Monique found one around the corner from work.”

  Milly handed the camera back to Daniel. Through its lens he focused on the distant cliffs where the path wound its way back inland. Sharp detail carved into the vertical drops, each blade of long, thin grass on the outcrops waving in the sea breeze. Trees that fought hard to poke out from the cliff drew stark white lines on the brown and ochre rock.

  Daniel squeezed the trigger with a satisfying clunk—a mechanical one he felt in his fingers, not a sound fashioned by an audio engineer.

  Milly sat on a large rock that forced the meandering path wide, her chin in her hands, her eyes down. Daniel’s heart sank. The same pose as at her birthday party.

  He had to know.

  Daniel sat down next to her on the mammoth rock. “We didn’t finish our chat about your birthday party—”

  Milly’s chin shot out of her hands, her eyes cloaked in suspicion. “Why do you keep asking me about that?”

  “I’m just checking in. We don’t get to talk like we used to, so I’m just making sure you’re okay.”

  The cloak remained as Milly folded angry arms. “So that’s why you wanted me to come with you? And why are you trying to fix me? Why don’t you try to fix you and Mom?”

  Daniel’s mind shifted gears as Milly raised the stakes. “You know, when people change the subject after being asked an uncomfortable question—”

  Milly stood in a rush. “Which is what you’ve just done.”

  She was like him. So like him.

  “I’m not stupid, you know. I can see what’s going on.” Her eyes searched Daniel’s in what he thought was desperation, hoping he would take the reins of a conversation that was racing away from her.