Where the Lies Hide

by Renee Roman

  Her next step was a face-to-face with the hard to locate Brace Archer. She’d lucked out with Barnes and had even convinced him to text her the next time Brace was in the office. There was no guarantee he’d still be there when she arrived, but it was worth a shot. Jimmy told her Brace gave a song and dance to his lieutenant, saying he was doing undercover work, infiltrating gangs and getting close to the people higher up the ranks of dealers. Brace showed up in the office enough to keep the lieutenant satisfied, though a few of his fellow officers believed Brace’s excuses were nothing but a crock of shit.

  Cam had prepared a list of questions for him, including why he had decided to become an officer, though she may or may not ask that one, depending on his initial reaction. Most officers wearing the uniform strived for a promotion to detective, or at least sergeant. Barnes had confirmed the real reason Brace hadn’t taken the promotion test was his desire to be virtually anonymous on the street. He could remain a low-ranking cop able to move among the unsavory individuals who sold his drugs without having to give much back, except for the promise of keeping them out of jail.

  She’d called in a favor from one of her informants who could hack most “secure” systems, asking her to pull up Brace Archer’s arrests record over the last five years. Interestingly, even though he was a lead in the narcotics division, all his recent arrests were of street level mules and minor players. He probably took down people who crossed him, doing just enough to stay under the radar of the upper echelon’s scrutiny in the department.

  She finished her notes and checked the clock in the corner of her screen. Where had the time gone? She had missed lunch and was headed for the same with dinner. After saving the file, Cam gathered her notes and stuffed her bag. She hadn’t been paying much attention to the one other case she had, and she knew that had to change. Sarah had taken precedence over everything else and she felt a little guilty for shirking her responsibilities. I’ll get back on track soon. Cam wasn’t sure who she was trying to convince.

  * * *

  Two days later, the steady click of her camera meant she’d have some good information for her client. The cheating wife was laughing as she and an unknown male walked to a motel room on the first floor, giving her a clear view of them both. The license on the dark blue sedan she’d arrived in matched the one the husband had provided, along with a recent photo of the supposed happy wife whose smile didn’t reach her eyes. There might be a very good reason why she’d strayed, but it was rare for Cam’s conscience to suffer when dropping the dirt on a subject she investigated. This was her job, and she was being paid to provide answers to her clients.

  It wasn’t the same with Sarah Peters. Since they’d come to their agreement, Cam had little additional news about Brace’s extracurricular activities. However, she had found several accounts linked to an individual named Archie Brace. The similarity in names sent up red flares, and after a little more digging, she found an old cell number that used to belong to Brace attached to one of the accounts. Sloppy on his part, but it was probably before he’d gotten better at covering his tracks.

  After the couple disappeared inside their room, she set her camera aside and jotted some notes in her tablet. She thought about ignoring the buzz of her phone, thinking it was probably Maggie asking if she’d eaten today. She swiped the screen and froze. It was from Barnes. Archer was in the office at his computer typing reports. It would be her best shot at catching him. She turned the key before securing her seat belt, praying this was the break she’d been waiting for, and at the same time she hoped her fear of Brace being a possible threat to Sarah was unfounded. Experience told her she knew better.

  * * *

  Sarah slid her dark goggles up on her head. She set down the grinder before picking up her thermos and drank the tart lemonade she’d made that morning. Once she was sure the metal had cooled, she ran her hand over the joint to check for smoothness. The commissioned piece would serve as both a focal point and a statement for the local architecture company that had hired her. They’d given the green light with respect to the type and subject matter of her sculpture, trusting she would be able to capture the essence of the company’s creed on design. She hoped she’d done them justice, knowing if she hit the mark there would be a lot of free publicity. Her name would be displayed on a plaque at the base of the piece which would be prominently placed in the firm’s lobby. The announcement would introduce her skills to the world. She was ready for the recognition others said she deserved from pursuing her passion.

  The three-dimensional cubes, stacked at gravity defying angles, would be mounted in a base of marble granite, the colors of which would be reflected on the polished finish of the cubes. According to the specifications she sent, they would rotate counterclockwise, giving the impression they were boring into the base. It was an optical illusion she’d been working with on her computer for months. At least it would be the buffer in her budget she’d been hoping for. It wouldn’t be a huge amount, and she probably should have asked for more for the piece, but being a virtual unknown, she considered the equivalent in publicity and thought it fair. By the time she paid for materials the residual would get her through several months of no construction work without worry. Winter was coming and the competition for bidding on jobs would become tougher. Her skills were well known in the industry, but she didn’t have a family of mouths to feed. Sometimes employers picked those workers first, knowing they’d show up every day else their paycheck would suffer. Little did anyone know she was in the same predicament.

  It felt good to have someone believe in her as much as her parents had. Her personal well-being had always been of utmost importance to their happiness. Too bad they hadn’t thought the same true when it came to not letting her know about her twin. Sarah shook her head. She couldn’t change the past. She imagined Cam would lead her to a new chapter in her life, and things would be different. But what did that mean? Was she hoping Cam wanted to explore the unmistakable connection between them? And what was that connection? There was no doubt it was there. Why else would Cam find reasons for them to share meals and get together as often as they did, even when she had very little to communicate? She could just as easily send Sarah the information in an email, or with a phone call. Why did she always insist on a more personal interaction? Maybe insist wasn’t the right word. After all, she’d never turned down an invitation to spend time with Cam. Sarah had to admit she was lonely. The sudden change in her life from a carefree daughter to caregiver for her father, then her mother, had left her little time to indulge in satisfying her own pleasures. Now she had time to spend on her art, yet she was filled with restless energy and a longing for human company instead of cold metal.

  She hoped the future would be less solitary than the one she’d led up to now. She really needed to get out more and mingle with people her own age, but almost everyone she knew had families of their own, or worked so many hours there wasn’t a lot left for socializing. She could commiserate.

  Sarah pulled her glasses down and picked up her grinder. A few more hours and it would be finished. What would she do then? She didn’t have any more orders and she was running out of material. She’d have to go to the junkyard soon and scour the construction site for debris. It wouldn’t be the first time. Someday she’d be able to order what she needed. Someday.

  * * *

  Cam had been damn lucky. She’d broken almost every speed limit she’d gone through to get to the station before Archer left. She smoothed her clothes and fluffed her hair. She hated using her sex to get what she needed, but sometimes it was the only weapon the moron she was talking to understood. She’d deal with her mental fallout later. It would just be one more regret in a long list she’d have to think about on her deathbed.

  She slid her ID through the shallow slot. “Hello, I’m Camdyn Stark and I’m looking to speak with Officer Brace Archer, if he’s available.” If she could have crossed her toes, she would have.

  The officer behind the des
k looked over her ID, then picked up the phone. “Hang on.” There were a few seconds of silence before he spoke again. “Murphy here. Is Archer still around?” He grunted something unintelligible, then hung up. He pushed her ID back through.

  “You’re in luck.” He handed her a visitor pass to clip on her lapel. She was grateful she’d gotten in without one the last time in case Archer got suspicious someone had tipped her off. “You carrying?”

  “No.”

  When she got to the narcotics division door, she went in and scanned the area. Barnes was there, but she ignored him. Instead, she walked confidently to the captain’s office and knocked on the casing. The name on the door was labeled Larson, and she hoped it was his name, rather than another division. He looked up from his desk.

  “Can I help you?” he asked without grumbling. Cam took it as a good sign.

  “Yes. I was hoping to speak with Officer Brace Archer?” She remained in the doorway since he hadn’t asked her to have a seat.

  “What do you want with Archer?” He eyed her suspiciously.

  “It’s a private matter, sir.”

  That garnered the standard grunt, and she barely contained a smile.

  “Archer.” The boom of his voice echoed through the doorway, making her flinch. He must have noticed. “Sorry.”

  She nodded but didn’t say anything. It wasn’t long before a man with dirty blond hair and a big build showed up at the door.

  “Yeah, Captain?”

  “This woman…” He hesitated.

  “Camdyn Stark.” Cam stuck out her hand. She didn’t miss Archer glancing at the sergeant before reluctantly shaking it.

  “Ms. Stark wants to speak with you.”

  Archer opened his mouth, but Larson cut him off before he said anything. “In your cube.”

  Archer nodded. “This way.” He pointed to the desk that had been empty the last time she was there.

  It was devoid of the chaotic stacks of paper invading many of the other officers’ space, and she wondered how much time he spent doing police work compared to running his drug business. Barnes had told her he was into the heavy stuff. Heroin, coke, and meth. The kind that got people killed.

  Archer gestured to the one chair facing his desk as he sat down, leaning forward. She was sure he wanted to intimidate her. Little did he know she’d grown up with harsher tactics and she’d survived. Now she was the one who used intimidation when it was necessary to get information.

  “What do you want to talk about?” His nostrils flared and he looked over her shoulder at the door, like he was in a hurry to leave.

  Cam sat back, crossed her legs, and smiled. If he thought he was going to strike fear in her, he needn’t bother. “I’m a private investigator.” She paused long enough to let it sink in. Archer looked around again, likely to see if anyone was close enough to hear them. “I’ve been hired to locate you, so here I am.” She kept her smile in place.

  Archer’s jaw tightened. “By who?”

  “Your twin sister.”

  “I don’t have a sister. Someone’s wasting your time.” He leaned back as though unconcerned by the news, but the white knuckles as he grasped the armrests spoke volumes.

  Cam opened her brief and produced the one sheet of paper containing the information she was willing to give him. There was nothing on it that identified Sarah.

  “Is your date of birth March fifteenth, nineteen eighty-nine?” He nodded. “Born at Kent General in Dover, Delaware?”

  Archer’s face started to turn red. “That doesn’t prove anything.” His voice rose.

  Cam ignored the warning bells of impending danger and leaned in. “Why are you upset? Aren’t you happy about having a sister?”

  “Why the hell would I be happy about it? My family is fine just the way it is. I don’t know who put you up to this, but it’s bullshit.” His voice carried across the space, and Larson walked toward them.

  “Everything okay here?” Larson looked between her and Archer.

  Archer stood, fixing Cam with a hard stare. “Yeah. Ms. Stark was just leaving.”

  Cam slid the paper onto his desk and placed her card on top. “If you change your mind, call me.” She made a motion to shake his hand, but Archer’s balled fists were clenched at his sides. Cam pivoted to the captain instead. “Thank you.”

  She focused on maintaining slow, deliberate strides as she headed to the exit. She’d be damned if she’d give Archer the satisfaction of thinking he could scare her. He had no idea how many tentacles her investigation could grow, and she was far from finished. Or maybe he did know and was afraid news of his drug operation would get out if someone started poking around in his life. In the meantime, all she had to do was keep Sarah away from him. Easy. She sighed and rested her head against the steering wheel when she got in the car. Sarah would most likely prove more difficult to handle than Archer.

  Chapter Eighteen

  “If it’s not to give me information on how to reach my brother, then what do you want to tell me?”

  Sarah had been excited when Cam called and suggested they meet. She’d had second thoughts about Cam seeing her workshop, but she needed to finish before she got paid, and time was a luxury she didn’t have. Cam leaned against the Range Rover’s grille, her arms folded and a cocky smile plastered on her face. The smile that made her so damn attractive was also the one that infuriated Sarah at the same time.

  She’d told herself that she didn’t want to be one-on-one with Cam any more than she had to, that it was too complicated, but she had once again jumped on the opportunity to spend time with Cam.

  “He’s not the friendly type.”

  “What the hell does that mean?”

  “It means he wasn’t happy with finding out he had a sister and denied your existence.”

  Sarah swiped at the hair that had fallen into her eyes. “I wasn’t so sure of his existence either. That’s why I hired you. You can’t judge him based on how he reacted to that kind of news. I didn’t take it so well at first either.” She waited for Cam to come up with a rebuttal, but instead she sighed and motioned toward the building.

  “Are you going to show me your workshop?”

  “No.” She turned to head inside, but Cam was at her heels.

  “Sarah, wait.”

  “For what, Cam? For you to keep up the charade of reasons I shouldn’t see my brother?” Her throat constricted as her anger grew. “To what end? Why won’t you just do what I hired you to do?”

  Cam’s eye color changed from muted hazel to a forest green-gray. Something dark passed through them, and she wondered what they looked like when she was having sex. Her blood heated, and her body screamed for release. Christ.

  “You’re going to get hurt by him, Sarah.” Cam lifted her hand as though she were going to touch her before she stopped in midair and her hand fell to her side.

  “You can’t judge a person on one meeting. I have a right to form my own opinion. I hired you to find him, and I’ve cut you a lot of slack. Now you’re pissing me off.” Sarah turned away, her lips pressed together. Cam’s fingers closed on her wrist.

  “I don’t want to argue with you.” Cam stared into her eyes, and she wondered what she saw. “Will you let me inside?”

  Panic stilled the breath in her chest. What was Cam asking? “Cam, I…”

  “I want to see your art. I want to see where you work that isn’t hundreds of feet off the ground.” Cam’s intensity remained, but her features had softened.

  Sarah hid her disappointment. She’d thought…well, she wasn’t sure what she’d thought, but Cam’s interest in her art wasn’t at the top of the list. She’d been foolish to think otherwise. She and Cam would never be good in a relationship. They were polar opposites.

  Cam wondered if it was a mistake to push Sarah, but she wasn’t ready to let go of their tentative connection. She’d missed her, and that was the reason she’d called. She hated admitting there were so many things that could go wrong, but what she
wasn’t wrong about was her growing need to protect her. Sarah was challenging her and she was so damn cute doing it, Cam wanted to kiss those pouty lips.

  “Do you know how much you piss me off?”

  She rubbed the tender flesh beneath her thumb. “Yeah, I do.”

  “And you’re not the least bit sorry, are you?”

  She raised their joined hands to her lips. “A little, but not enough to let you step into a hotbed of uncertainties.” A truer statement hadn’t come out her mouth in a long time. Sarah had that effect on her. Of getting her to confess to things she ordinarily kept hidden.

  “God, you’re frustrating.” The corner of Sarah’s mouth twitched, but to her credit she didn’t smile, though her gaze traveled between Cam’s lips and her eyes several times before she glanced at their joined hands and gave a little tug. “Come into my lair.” She waved with her free hand. “It’s where the magic happens.”

  I doubt that’s where the real magic happens.

  Sarah led her through an old dented door into a garage that didn’t look much better. The single section of fluorescent bulbs hardly gave off enough light to see the entire space. One wall held a pegboard of various tools and a narrow bench cluttered with scraps of metal, iron, and copper. A couple of outlets were mounted on the front. A torch sat in a corner near the overhead garage door, and a grinder of some sort sat on a rickety crate near the center. Three shiny metal cube frames, each one at least four feet square, stood at precarious angles on top of each other, defying gravity. The bottom one sat in a vise-like contraption. Cam stepped forward, mesmerized by the gleaming metal. She extended her hand, then stopped.

  “Can I touch it?”

  Sarah nodded. “It’s cool by now. I’ll have to polish it again before delivery, so it’s fine.”

  She slid her fingertips over the edge and then on to the welded areas. The chrome-like metal was cooler than she would have guessed, and the joints were smooth as glass. Each section contained narrow reflections like small mirrors, and she was fascinated by how Sarah had brought the piece to life.