Fragmented

by Colleen Connally

  She already had Greg irritated at her. What was she supposed to do when Zach showed back up after seeing their father? Zach looked so sick. All he wanted to do was sleep the night away on the couch. He just wanted to be taken care of by his big sis.

  She waited until the voices subsided and faded into Karl’s bedroom before she climbed out of bed. Dressed in her comfy flannel pjs, she inched open the door to an empty room. All seemed quiet.

  The open layout of the apartment gave freedom to Cameron, away from the boys. Her bedroom lay across the living room, which was furnished in a classic style. The hardwood floor was covered by a simple braided rug. A gold plated framed mirror hung over the fireplace. A lone floor lamp sat in the far corner next to the curvature of the walls by the windows.

  The kitchen lay open with white cabinets and t-shaped counters. A teakettle sat on top of the gas stove. She needed a cup of tea.

  Quietly, she tiptoed to the kitchen. She filled the kettle with water. She would have to watch it before it whistled. She certainly didn’t want to wake anyone. Lost in her thoughts, she reached up in the cabinet for a bowl for her cereal.

  She didn’t hear the rustling feet behind her, but she felt two hands grab her waist. Startled, a screech escaped her.

  “Gotcha!” he whispered in her ear.

  The bowl dropped to the floor, shattering it into pieces. Her heart felt as if it had popped out of her body. She clutched her chest. Swirling around, she hit her roommate across his shoulder.

  “For God’s sake, Karl. You scared the living daylights out of me,” she said, catching her breath.

  Laughing, he stepped back. One glance, and she knew he had been out on the town, dressed in a black cashmere sweater and nice slacks. He looked ruggedly handsome with his sandy blonde hair cut short and gelled back. His blue eyes danced with mischief. He bent down and picked up the pieces of the broken bowl.

  “Day’s not going too well, I hear.”

  “My day? I’m not the one who has company in my bedroom and is out here talking with my roommate.”

  A knowing grin emerged on his face, he said, “Believe she had a little too much of that bottle of wine at Jacques’ tonight. She won’t miss me for a while.”

  Cameron eyed him suspiciously.

  “Don’t even give me that look, Cam. You’d be asleep with a sip of it.”

  She got the broom and dustpan and shrugged. She couldn’t disagree; she’d never been much of a partier.

  “Greg only called me a hundred times today. He’s getting worse than a clingy girlfriend. First, mad at your lame brother. I heard a hundred times how you enable the loser—his words, not mine—and then upset because you were mad at him.”

  “He’ll get over it. Always does. Stressed out between school and work, I guess.”

  “More worried about you moving out and being left with me.”

  “It’s time, though, Karl.” Cameron stood. “Wouldn’t you say?”

  He shrugged, leaning down to open the cabinet door to the garbage. “For you. Who’s going to take care of two hapless bachelors?”

  He leaned back against the counter, staring at Cameron. She returned the stare. She had seen him through his parents’ divorce; he, in turn, saw her through her mother’s devastating death. He had once again come to the rescue when Matthew broke their engagement and again nine months later when Matthew married someone else.

  Greg…she didn’t remember exactly when they had become friends. He had always been a little quirky, but brilliant. He had been Karl’s friend; so, he was hers. She had always known he was a delicate soul.

  Her New Year’s resolution had been to live life again. To move on with her life, to live it to the fullest. A new place, one by herself. She had a whole list she had written down. She wanted travel and adventure. No more looking back…no more regrets.

  “Do you want to go over and see the condo?”

  He returned her smile with his eyebrow raised. “Are you going to get upset if I told you I’ve already seen it?”

  “How?” she asked, confused for a moment. Then a realization dawned upon her. Meghan. “Meg? Oh, my God.” Her voice went up on octave. She took a deep breath. In almost a whisper, she said, “It was you she was with when she banged up her car. Karl, how could you! She’s married.”

  “Just having a little fun, Cam. You know, you should try it sometime instead of being such a prude.”

  “Well, I wouldn’t have to be a prude if I wasn’t continually covering for everyone.”

  He immediately retracted his words. “I’m sorry, Cam. I didn’t mean it. You’re right.”

  Tired, her frustration festered. Once again, she was in the middle of a situation that Meghan had thrown her into. She lowered her gaze. She couldn’t look at him she was so angry.

  “I didn’t tell you to get you mad. Meg was so thrilled you were finally making a move.” He moved closer to her. He bent his head over, trying to coax a smile out of her. “Come on, Cam. I only told you to help you out. I know she dumped everything on you about the car. She didn’t want me anywhere near it, but…”

  Karl’s words dangled in the air by a banging on the door.

  Chapter Six

  It was late. The night had been spent spinning their wheels. The Harrison kid ended up in the hospital, sick as a dog. He had thrown up during transport and passed out. They weren’t going to get any more information out of him tonight.

  A uniform was stationed beside him at Boston City, in the emergency room. Brophy didn’t think the kid was in any shape to alert his friend they were looking for him, but they weren’t taking any chances.

  Waters escorted Harrison to the hospital. Brophy had gone back and helped in the search of the dorm room, but it had come up empty. Nothing…not even Quinn’s computer! At least while he was there, he discovered where Quinn was—at his sister’s.

  That was according to Allison, the girl he was supposed to have met up with tonight. At least they didn’t have to make the trip out to Hull yet. The snow had already begun to fall.

  The address took Brophy to a brownstone off Beacon Street, where he met back up with his partner. Taking a brief tour around the neighborhood, Brophy looked out for the Escape. Damn! It wasn’t here.

  Quinn better be, though! His patience had evaporated. He had enough of chasing shadows. He didn’t want to admit he was tired. Getting out of the car, he blew out heavily and watched his breath fog. It had been too long a day already, and there was no end in sight.

  Brophy buzzed the apartment. No answer. He buzzed again. Lights were on. Someone was up. BAM. BAM. BAM. He banged on the door. “Boston PD. Open up.”

  A buzz let them in. Immediately, Brophy stepped toward his objective. He banged again on the apartment door.

  “Give me a moment. Jeez! I’m coming,” a male voice said from behind the door.

  Brophy listened for the click; then the door opened wide. A man, mid-to-late twenties, stood dressed casually in an expensive sweater and slacks. From the man’s manner and the look in his eyes, Brophy sensed his night wasn’t getting any better.

  “Detective John Brophy,” he began, holding his shield. He motioned to Waters. “Detective Albert Waters. We’re looking for Zachary Quinn.”

  He caught sight of a young man fitting the description. Brophy drew in a breath of relief. Finally, Zachary Quinn!

  The suspect wrung his hands in a nervous manner. His dark hair was disheveled; his eyes were heavy as if he had just been woken. He had a baby face with eyes mirroring his confusion. He didn’t look like a cold-blooded killer.

  Stepping into the apartment, Brophy found it a far cry from Zach’s dorm. It had a warm, inviting atmosphere, tastefully furnished with color coordinated sofa and love seats. Maple end tables sat at both ends of the sofa, with a marble top coffee table. On the wall, a flat-screen plasma TV. Wide windows were covered in heavy mauve draperies.

  Brophy’s attention turned to the other occupant in the room, the young woman standing prote
ctively to the side of the suspect. A looker. Dressed in flannel pjs, her long dark brown hair hung loose over her shoulders. But it was her blue eyes that made the first impression. She wrapped the suspect’s hand in hers. Without question, his sister.

  Zachary Quinn seemed confused. He nervously glanced over at the guy opening the door and back at his sister as if they could help him now.

  “Zachary Quinn?” Brophy went on, not waiting for the suspect to answer. “We’re going to have to ask you to come back to the station with us. We have some questions for you to answer.”

  “Why…why?” he stuttered. “Wh…what…have I done?”

  “We’ll get into it at the station.”

  “Just a moment, Detective Brophy. Let me introduce myself. Karl Neslund. I’m Zach’s lawyer.”

  “A lawyer?” Brophy looked at Quinn, and then back at Karl. “You knew we were coming and prepared? Strange, really. Not too many lawyers make house calls in the dead of night.”

  “I don’t think you understand the situation, Detective Brophy. I haven’t made a house call. I live here. And to clarify…Zach is invoking his right to counsel and won’t be answering any questions at this time.”

  Stifling a groan, Brophy stared at Karl for a long moment. “Oh, Mr. Neslund, he will be answering questions. Tonight, tomorrow—the truth will come out. It’s murder, Mr. Neslund. Murder,” Brophy repeated with emphasis. “He’s not under arrest, yet. You’re welcome to meet us at the station. Whether he talks or not, we will get answers. One way or another.”

  “Wait! Zach can’t go out without his shoes. I’ll get them.”

  Brophy waited only long enough for the sister to go to the closet and grab the suspect’s sneakers and a coat. Then he exited the apartment with Zachary Quinn in tow.

  * * * *

  “Murder?” Cameron’s voice choked on emotions welling inside her. Her throat went dry. This couldn’t be happening. Murder! Her baby brother! Impossible. “Karl, do something. Please. It’s Zach.”

  “I know…I know, Cam. It’s going to be okay. I’m following them. Stay here until I call. Do you understand, Cam? Understand? The police will be back,” Karl said the words hastily. He grabbed his coat. “Don’t worry. I will handle everything. I promise. I have to get down there before they try talking to him. It has to be some sort of mistake, Cam.”

  He rushed out the door. She nodded, but she didn’t believe in mistakes, not after her mother’s death and everything her father…her family went through. She felt as if someone were stomping on her chest. She couldn’t breathe. The day’s events flashed in her head. Something hadn’t felt right this morning. She should have said something…now it was too late.

  “Are you okay, Cam?” Greg asked from his doorway. Cameron had quite forgotten Greg was even home. “What in the world could have happened for anyone to think Zach was capable of such a thing?”

  “I don’t know, but I’m not just sitting here,” she said. She walked toward her bedroom door. She had to change. Greg stopped her.

  “Karl said for you to wait here. He knows what he’s doing, Cameron. He’ll take care of it. He will.”

  “I appreciate your concern, Greg. I really do, but I have to go see Dad. I promise I’m not going to the station, but I can’t call Dad, can I? If Karl calls, have him call my cell phone,” she said, squeezing his arm. “I’ll be fine. I just have to go. Call me if you hear anything. Please, Greg.”

  “Of course, Cameron. Anything I can do, you know I’ll do it for you.”

  Greg was too sweet. She couldn’t tell him what she had planned. No, she could tell no one.

  She hurriedly pulled on a pair of sweats. She had to leave and quickly. They would be back with a warrant. Of that she was certain.

  Karl would kill her if he knew what she had planned, but there was no way she was going to live through it again…not like she had with her father. If she hadn’t been so caught up with her stupid love life, she would have been more in tuned with what was happening with Zach this morning. The blood on his sneakers, being sick to his stomach, not remembering the night before…

  Her mind swirled with a million thoughts and they all came back to one person—Luciano. The person who had destroyed her family’s lives to cover for his son. Was that what was happening now? Was he getting revenge on her father for his own life falling apart?

  Her heart pounded so rapidly she thought it would burst out of her chest. Good Lord, however am I going to pull this off! She felt sick to her stomach. Get a grip. Just do it!

  She bundled up in her snow gear, from her snow boots to the woolen cap covering her ears. From the sound of the wind, the storm had hit. This wasn’t going to be easy. She gathered up Zach’s sneakers and coat and squashed them into her gym bag and swung it over her shoulder.

  Pulling back the curtains, she saw straight into the street. A police car was parked out in front. She couldn’t go that way. What will I do if they were watching the back? She shrugged. She didn’t have a choice. She had to hope that with the bad weather they weren’t looking for her to make a bold move.

  Her hands tightly clutched the bag. Tears welled up in her eyes. She fought them back. She didn’t have time to succumb to her emotions. Zach was counting on her.

  She reached for the door handle out the back way. A fleeting thought of just letting Karl handle the situation swept through her, but her instincts told her differently. There was no way she was going to let her brother be framed for a crime he didn’t commit.

  She took a deep breath and braced for winter’s onslaught. The wind sliced through her as she descended down the back steps. With her heart in her throat, she trudged along the back path. The snow wasn’t bad yet, but the wind…the wind was harsh.

  But it was the fear that someone was going to stop her that had her nervous beyond measure. If it was as she believed, she held evidence to a murder. The blood on Zach’s shoes…she could only imagine what was in the car.

  She thought back to when the detectives took Zach down to the police station. The look on Zach’s face told her he was scared. Thank God, he didn’t question her when she handed him Karl’s sneakers to wear instead of his own, along with one of Karl’s coats. Poor Zach. He seemed so confused, bewildered…so innocent.

  She should be thankful for the storm. If the snow ban hadn’t been issued, Zach’s car would have been parked out front of her apartment. Instead, it was parked at the hospital’s parking garage.

  About a half hour later, she slipped into the parking garage, grateful she didn’t see anyone she knew. A state emergency had been called. The governor wanted non-essential personnel to stay off the roads, but activity around the hospital wouldn’t be suspicious.

  She found the Escape without too much difficulty. Glancing over her shoulder, she didn’t see anyone, but she imagined if they followed, they wouldn’t stop her until she got out on the street.

  She refused to think of the consequences. Using Zach’s extra set of keys, she clicked a button and unlocked the car. She threw the bag in the back. The car was a mess. If there was evidence, she didn’t notice anything on first glance, but she didn’t have time to look for any. She paused only a moment, drawing in a deep breath. She turned the key and the engine ignited.

  Adrenaline flowed through her veins as she entered the street. She drove off slowly. It wouldn’t be difficult to pick up someone following her. No one was on the road. Nothing. Not even when she passed the police headquarters on her way out of the city.

  When she hit 93, she began to breathe again. She hit speed dial on her cell phone. It rang and rang and rang. Please, Dad, pick up. Please.

  “Hello, Cameron?”

  “Yeah, Dad. Are you okay?” she asked. She knew he understood the meaning of her question and whether or not he was, he would say he was. “Look, Dad. Zach’s in trouble, bad trouble. I need your help. Can you help?”

  * * * *

  Cameron drove up the street she had grown up on, with her lights off. She didn’t
want to wake anyone in the neighborhood. Her father had done as he promised. His car was in the driveway, leaving an open space for her in the garage. She parked in a hurry, closed the garage door, and ran into the house.

  She could have cried when she smelled coffee brewing in the kitchen. Her father sat at the table, drinking a cup. He sprang up and hugged his eldest.

  He was a shadow of the man who had raised her. In her youth, the house filled with his laughter. He had always smiled. Not anymore. She hadn’t seen him smile in years. Not overly tall, his cheeks sunk in from the drinking or not eating properly—Cameron wasn’t certain which—but he was lanky. His eyes bothered her the most. They had lost the light that she remembered.

  “What happened? Murder? Zach? I can’t believe it. Who was he supposed to have murdered?”

  “Dad, I don’t know. I don’t know. None of this makes any sense, but I know something isn’t right about the whole situation. Zach couldn’t murder anyone. I’m not going to let anyone try to pin something on him. Not this time.”

  Her father nodded. He understood better than anyone. “I’ve already thrown all his clothes in the washer. I have a second load ready to go in. Here’s his computer. What do you want to do with it?”

  “We have to hide it. They always go after the computer,” she said simply. “We have to hide his car and get rid of everything he has in his car.”

  “Are you sure you haven’t watched too many cop shows, honey? Is all this necessary? I’m washing clothes Zach hasn’t worn in months.”

  Her finger tapped her lip. She tried to think quickly. “I can’t tell you why, Dad, but I have a really bad feeling here. It’s not going to hurt, is it, to be cautious?”

  “No, honey, not at all. Tell me what to do. We’ll do this together.”

  * * * *

  A dark haze covered the Boston skyline in the wee hours of the morning. The nor’easter had headed out to the ocean without hitting land. Boston only got hit with four inches. The brunt of the storm was over.

  Brophy could describe the sunrise in detail because he sat, watching it come up. Goddamn it! Nothing went as he planned!