by Lila Bruce
“I’m not talking about that.” Bishop’s jaw clenched, flexing the muscles in his neck. “You told the responding officers that there was an intruder inside the house, possibly a…” He glanced down at his notepad. “A drugged-out homeless woman. We found no such person.”
“How is that my fault? It took you long enough to get there. She probably ran out the back door before you arrived.”
Bishop cocked his head. “Or she was never there in the first place.”
“Why would I lie?”
Why would she lie? But there was something in the tone of her voice, in the way Cam pushed back at her hair, avoiding eye contact with Bishop as she did so, that picked at Avery. Bishop was right in one regard, she mused. Cameron Reinhart was hiding something.
“Well...you tell me,” Bishop was saying. “Maybe you and Chuck were playing doctor and things got heated. Maybe you were too much for him.”
Cam’s cheeks darkened, matching the color of her hair. “What?”
Bishop nodded slowly, seeming to warm to the theory. “Maybe you panicked and made up this story about an intruder to hide the fact that you’re having an affair with a married man.”
“I’m about as likely to have an affair with Chuck Jackson as you are, Detective Bishop.” Cam’s tone was as icy as her glare.
“Damn it,” Avery muttered, feeling her temper spark. She stormed out of the observation room, nearly running headlong into an eavesdropping Darlene. Avery brushed by the older woman, not hesitating as she opened the door marked “Interrogation”.
“Detective Smith, can I help you?” Bishop scowled, rising from his seat.
From behind him, Cam craned her neck as if looking for the source of the interruption. Seeing her expression turning to one of relief as their eyes met steeled Avery’s resolve.
“As a matter of fact—” Avery stepped to one side, motioning behind her as she moved. “Miss Darlene, would you be so kind as to escort Ms. Reinhart to my office?”
Bishop’s cheeks flushed, brimming with hostility. “I am in the middle of an interrogation.”
Avery waited until Darlene had shepherded Cam out of the room and down the hallway before countering, “No, you’re done.”
“I don’t know what the hell you think you’re doing Smith, but—”
“I’m saving the department—and your sorry ass—from a lawsuit. What the hell, Bishop?” Avery shook her head. “False report of a crime? Are you crazy?”
A vein in Bishop’s forehead bulged as he squared off his shoulders. “I’m doing my job.”
“You’re showing your ass is what you’re doing.”
“The sheriff—”
“Would probably have taken your badge if he’d witnessed that shit show. You’re lucky that Darlene came and found me and not him.”
He glared at Avery, his resentment seeming to grow as she met him with a challenging stare. “Why do you care, Smith? Oh wait…” Chuckling, he raised his chin. “That little comment she made about not being interested in Chuck Jackson… That’s what those Hollywood girls are all about right now, isn’t it? Being gay for each other? Is that what it is, Smith, she play for your team?” He leaned forward, a leering grin staining his face. “You’re sweet on her, aren’t ya?”
A fresh swell of rage rose in Avery. “How about you kiss my ass, Bishop.” She briefly weighed the consequences of breaking his nose. “I’m going to go back to doing my job,” she said, turning to leave. “I suggest you do the same.” Whatever his response, it was lost to Avery as she strode, fuming, back down the hallway to her office. She replayed the interaction over in her mind as she walked, her anger at Bishop bubbling with each step.
Avery had been prepared to face some level of bigotry when she’d moved back home to Bethel Springs—it had existed even in a police department as metropolitan and diverse as Atlanta. She’d been mildly surprised to find that the majority of the people she worked with were open-minded when it came to the subject of who she was attracted to, or at least polite enough not to say anything about it in her presence. There were a handful—Bishop among them—that subtly, and sometimes not so subtly, let her know that they felt otherwise.
As she neared her office, Avery could hear Hobbs chatting up Cam. She paused just outside the doorway, taking a deep breath to settle her nerves. More than anything, Avery was upset with herself that she’d let Bishop get to her.
“You’re that lady that’s on TV, aren’t you?” Avery heard Hobbs say.
“I am,” came Cam’s response.
“My mama loves your show. She watches it all the time,” Hobbs continued. “She’ll get a kick when I tell her. Are you in town filming for the show? Or maybe scouting around? If so, I can tell you about some of the houses in the area that are supposed to be haunted.”
Avery took another breath, rubbing at her neck that was still crackling with irritation. Fuck Bishop and the horse he rode in on, she thought, stepping into the office. “Hobbs, please try not to talk Ms. Reinhart’s ears off,” Avery grumbled, brushing past the young detective to walk fully into the room. The unexpected sight of Cam sitting casually behind her desk threw Avery off guard and she stopped short.
“Thank you for what you did back there.” Cam ran a hand through a tangle of red hair. “I—”
“Don’t worry about it,” Avery interrupted. “I imagine that after the day you’ve had, you’re ready to go home.” Avery knew that she was herself. The thought of a warm bath and a cold beer was heavenly.
“I am, but…” Cam broke off, worry crossing her face. “I don’t think I want to be alone right now.” She looked up at Avery. “I know that must sound silly.”
“No,” Avery said, shaking her head. “It’s understandable. Like I said, you’ve had a stressful day. Where do you want to go, then? There’s a hotel downtown that’s fairly decent…or do you have a friend in town?”
“I do,” Cam said with a bob of her head. “Jennifer Morris. We went to high school together.”
“Oh yeah, I think I remember her.” Avery nodded slowly. “Blonde hair and braces, right?”
One of Cam’s eyebrow’s shot up and, for a moment, Avery had the impression that she’d said the wrong thing. “That’s right,” Cam answered finally, “but… I don’t know what happened to my phone. Somewhere between the house and here it’s disappeared. I’m not sure how to get in touch with her without it.”
I’d bet a week’s pay Bishop knows where the phone is. Avery would look into that later. For now, she just wanted to get Cam somewhere other than her office and get back to her investigation while the evidence was still fresh.
“Well, Ms. Reinhart, today is your lucky day. Luckily for you, you’ve stumbled upon a detective. Finding out that kind of thing is right up my alley.”
Chapter Eleven
Jennifer Morris’s two-story house in one of Bethel Springs’ newer subdivisions was a far cry from the single-wide trailer that Jennifer’s family lived in back in their high school years. Inhabiting a corner lot and sporting a perfectly manicured lawn, the house was surrounded by azaleas and dogwood trees. Black shutters framed the windows and a decorative University of Alabama flag hung from the front porch. Cam smiled when she realized it was nearly a picture-perfect image of the “real house” that high school-Jennifer had always talked about owning one day.
“You’re in luck. Looks like she’s home.”
Cam nodded at Avery’s words, her gaze drifting from the house to a sporty red convertible that sat in the driveway.
Despite her grandiose claims, it had taken some time for Avery to track down Jennifer’s address in the multitude of county databases that she had access to. After finally locating it, Avery had left Cam with Hobbs while she showered and changed into a fresh uniform in the department’s locker room. Cam had at first found that part odd, until Hobbs told her that they’d been around “something dead” earlier in the day and that he’d noticed—but not that he would ever tell Avery—that the smell of it seemed
to have attached itself to her clothes.
It had been an awkward ride from the police station to Jennifer’s house, with neither woman saying more than a few words. Avery had made a few attempts at stilted small talk, with Cam answering in single syllables as she tried to ignore the effect that Avery and whatever decadent body wash she had used back at the station were having on her. They’d left Hobbs behind to wait on a fax from the crime lab.
“Thank you for the ride over here,” Cam said, turning to look at Avery. “And for what you did before, with that other detective.”
“It’s no big deal.” Avery smiled at her and for a moment Cam felt like her fifteen-year-old self again.
“Well, uh…” Cam cleared her throat and willed the butterflies currently dancing in her stomach to settle down. “I should be going. Thank you, again.”
“I’ll walk up with you,” Avery said as Cam opened the car door.
“Oh no, that’s all right,” Cam rushed out. “I can make it on my own.”
“Nah.” Avery slid the keys out of the ignition. “The least I can do is see you to the door and make sure you’re settled in before I head back to the station.” Without waiting for a response from Cam, Avery stepped out of the Impala and quickly made her way to the front of the car.
Well, okay then. Cam grabbed her purse and gave a last look around to make sure she had everything before closing the car door. It was a stalling tactic to buy a little more time to compose herself, one that she hoped Avery wouldn’t pick up on. Fifteen year-old—and sixteen year-old, for that matter—Cam had had more than a few fantasies about being walked to the front door by Avery after a night out, all ending with a kiss. Sometimes more.
“So what does your friend do for a living?” Avery asked, motioning to the sports car.
“She’s an accountant,” Cam said, and then fell into step beside Avery, who had begun walking toward the house. “Seems like I remember seeing on Facebook that the car was a post-divorce gift to herself.”
“Ah, I see.” Avery paused her climb up the front porch stairs long enough to grin back at Cam. “Maybe I should have gone into accounting. It apparently pays better than policing.”
Cam laughed as she ascended the stairs. “Surely, it can’t be all that bad or you wouldn’t be doing it, right?”
“Well, I gue—”
Avery suddenly froze and threw a hand out behind her to stop Cam from moving forward any farther.
“What’s wrong?”
“The front door is open,” Avery answered, her voice an octave above a whisper.
“Hm. Well…maybe she’s moving something in or out of the house?” Cam peered around Avery, straining her eyes to see if she could catch a glimpse of Jennifer in one of the large windows that lined the front of the house. “Jennif—”
Avery’s hand slapped over Cam’s mouth, stifling her attempt at calling out for her friend.
“Do not.” Avery shook her head as she spoke, enunciating both words slowly. She cautiously lowered her hand, as if half expecting Cam to make another loud sound. “The front door is open,” she continued, “and there’s blood on it.”
Cam drew in a sharp breath at Avery’s words, her eyes widening.
“You go back to the car,” Avery ordered, unsnapping the thin leather guard on her holster, but leaving the gun in place. “I’m going to check it out.”
Blood? There’s blood on Jennifer’s front door. Thoughts racing, she met Avery’s determined stare. Cam felt the muscles in her legs tremble and then tighten up, as if her body had decided the fight or flight decision for her.
“Don’t be ridiculous. I’m not going to let you walk in there by yourself,” Cam said, hoping her voice sounded more confident than she felt. “I’ll come with you.”
Avery gave a near audible eye roll. “Cam, I’m a police officer.”
“Well…I’ll stay right here on the steps, then.”
“Lord,” Avery growled. She twisted her lips, as if mentally weighing her next move, and then gave an exasperated sigh. “Fine. But you stay right here.” She reached in her pocket and handed Cam the car keys. “If you hear anything out of order, run to the car and lock the doors once you’re inside.” She raised a brow and waited for a nod from Cam before continuing. “There’s a long red button on the side of the radio—push that and it’ll trigger an emergency signal that’ll bring other officers, okay?”
“Why don’t you just go ahead and call someone to come—what do you call it—back you up, before going in there?”
Avery’s forehead creased as she shook her head. “It may be nothing, like you said. There’s no point in calling out the whole Sheriff’s Department just to find out your friend Jennifer has a paper cut. I’ll give the place a quick check and then we’ll go from there.” Without waiting for further argument from Cam, Avery slid the gun out of her holster and took a step toward the door. She pushed it open with one foot and then crept beyond it.
From her position on the top of the front porch stairs, Cam strained to listen for any sounds coming from inside the house. Outside of the children playing in the backyard of the house next door, she heard nothing. She returned her focus to the front door, taking a step up to stand fully on the porch in order to get a better look at it.
The door fit the architecture of the house well. It was an off shade of white with an ornate oval window in its center. At the door’s edge was a rust-colored smear. It wasn’t large, maybe the size of half a dollar bill, but it stood out against the white of the door. As she moved closer, Cam noted there were no fingerprint smudges like she expected to see. Instead, it looked like someone had taken a single pass with a blood-covered paint brush to the edge of the door.
“I thought I told you to stay put on the stairs.”
Had she been standing on the stairs when Avery made her unexpected appearance in the doorway, Cam would have certainly rolled down the entire flight. As it was, she bounced in the air with a small shriek and landed two feet back from the door, falling into a large potted plant that sat by the top of the stairs.
“Damn you scared the hell out of me,” she sputtered, clutching a hand to her chest. Her heart thundered in response.
Avery, Cam noted in between gasps of air, had the audacity to grin at her distress. “You should have stayed where I told you.”
Cam took Avery’s outstretched hand and pulled herself out of the planter. Back on her feet, she began to dust off the potting soil now staining her jeans. “Well you should have—” Exasperated, she shook her head. “Never mind. Did you see anything?”
“No, the house is empty. I didn’t see any signs to indicate a struggle. It doesn’t look like a robbery—nothing looks broken into, the TV is there.”
“Well, then what happened to Jennifer? And why was the door sitting open?”
“Not sure,” Avery answered with a shrug. She made a beckoning gesture. “C’mon. The kitchen is right off the hallway. Let’s get you cleaned up a little and then you can sit in the car while I go talk to the neighbors, find out if they know anything.”
Cam followed her inside, looking around as they moved through the entranceway and down a narrow, picture-lined hallway. A floral scent hung in the air, and Cam recognized it as the perfume Jennifer had been wearing the other day. Peeking into the den as they passed it, Cam had to admit Avery was right—nothing looked out of place. A big screen TV hung in front of a gray sofa and chairs. There was a large bookcase built into the wall that reminded her of the one at Loralyn’s house. All in all, it looked exactly like Cam would have imagined Jennifer’s house to look.
“Here’s the kitchen,” Avery said, stopping outside of the doorway to wave Cam in. “Try not to touch anything but the sink. There’s some paper towels hanging next to it.”
Nodding, Cam took a step forward then came to an abrupt halt. “Do you hear that?”
“Hear what?”
“That.” She cocked her head. The sound was faint, but it was there. “I think I hear someon
e talking. It sounds like a woman…maybe.”
Avery frowned. “I don’t hear anything.”
Cam bobbed her head “Yeah, it’s a voice. I can’t believe you don’t hear it.” She brushed past Avery, moving in the direction of the sound. “It’s coming from this way.”
“Hey, wait.” Avery placed a firm grip on Cam’s shoulder, pulling her back. “Have you lost your mind?”
“What? It’s got to be Jennifer. What if she’s fallen down and can’t get back up?”
“What if she’s—” Avery rubbed the palm of her hand over her forehead before letting out an exaggerated sigh. “Fine. Where do you hear the voice coming from?”
Cam stilled her breath as she listened more intently. “There,” she said, pointing to the end of the hallway. “I’m pretty sure it’s coming from behind that door.”
Avery gave a curt nod before taking the lead. “I’m not going to waste my breath and tell you to stay back in the kitchen,” she muttered as she passed by Cam.
“Good, because I wouldn’t have done it anyway.”
The voice became louder as they approached the door, but Cam couldn’t quite make out what was being said. Seeing Avery place one hand on the door handle and the other on the butt of her pistol, Cam swallowed and decided to allow a little more space between them. Avery turned the knob and slowly pulled the door open. Cam had expected a bedroom and was a little surprised to see the door led to a flight of stairs.
“It’s a basement,” Avery whispered. “I was down here earlier but didn’t see anything. Just the laundry area.”
“Well, someone’s down there now,” Cam said, peering over Avery’s shoulder. “I can hear them.”
“I don’t hear anything,” she muttered, taking a cautious step down the stairs.
Following behind Avery, Cam frowned. That doesn’t make any sense. “How can you not? It’s plain as da—”
Her next words were cut short by a sudden kick to the back of her knee. She lunged forward with a squeal, hands reaching out to grasp the railing. Cam attempted to turn around, doing so in time to see a gloved hand propelling toward her. It shoved hard against her chest, knocking her back into Avery. Cam heard Avery give a quick curse just before they went tumbling down the stairs into the darkened basement below.