Chasing Shadows

by Lila Bruce

  ****

  Avery attended Georgia State University on a basketball scholarship. It wasn’t much, but it covered all the basics—her tuition, dorm, and books. From time to time, Mildred would send her money to cover the extras in life. That had been a godsend to Avery, especially after the excommunication from her parents when she’d come out to them. Her grandmother’s support, along with that she’d gotten from some of her teammates once they learned of her situation, had been the difference in Avery staying in college and dropping out.

  It was in her senior year at GSU that Avery—while playing point guard in a game against Northeastern —suffered a concussion that, for all intents and purposes, ended her college basketball career. Up until that point, the game had been going well. GSU had the lead by five, with Avery having made a career-best eight assists. Then an elbow to the side from one of the Huskies’ players had her crashing head-first onto the court. GSU went on to lose the game, and Avery spent the remainder of the season on the disabled list.

  Avery continued to lie still for several minutes after coming to in what she presumed to be the floor of Jennifer Morris’s basement, feeling exactly as she had on that cold day in February. Mildly nauseous, slightly detached from reality, with a sharp, nearly overwhelming headache. Once the ringing in her ears had subsided, Avery ventured to open one eye.

  Cam sat cross-legged on the ground in front of Avery, fishing through the thing she called a purse but reminded Avery more of a backpack. With her bottom lip trapped between her teeth, she appeared to be concentrating deeply on searching for whatever it was she thought was hidden in the depths of the bag. A ray of the setting sun dappled in through the small rectangular window on the far wall of the basement and landed just behind Cam, turning her hair a fiery shade of garnet. All things considered, Avery had to admit that Cam looked pretty damn cute right then.

  Avery closed her eye and took stock. There was something soft beneath her head and neck that smelled vaguely like sunflowers. Avery was moderately surprised to find that outside of the raging pain in her head and a burning sensation emanating from the palm of her left hand, she seemed to be okay. She took in a deep breath, willing the queasiness in her stomach to subside, before croaking out, “Cam.”

  She heard the sound of the backpack/purse hitting the concrete floor and then a scuffling noise. She popped both eyes open to see Cam hovering over her.

  “You’re awake.”

  Avery nodded, an action that she instantly regretted. She closed her eyes, swallowing back the acrid taste of bile.

  “I was beginning to get really worried,” Cam continued, “especially when you didn’t wake up right away. I fell and hit my head the other day, but I didn’t black out or anything, just got a little dazed. At least you’re not bleeding. Well, from your head anyway. You landed on a bucket full of garden tools and sliced your hand open. Oh, and I know they say you’re not supposed to move people after they fall like you did, but you looked really uncomfortable laying there, so I found a bath towel over by the dryer and put it under your head like a pillow.”

  That explains the something soft. “Cam…”

  “Yes?”

  “Please stop talking.” Each word spoken echoed like a jackhammer inside Avery’s skull.

  “Oh,” came the quiet reply. “Sorry, I guess I was babbling just a bit. I do that sometimes when I get nervous.”

  Avery opened her eyes again to see Cam, sitting on her knees and reaching for her backpack/purse. She pulled the bag next to her and began fumbling inside again.

  “What…” Avery cleared her throat, which she suddenly realized was exceedingly dry. The last few seconds of memory played over in her mind. “You fell on me.”

  “I did.” Grimacing, Cam glanced up from the bag. “There was a man.” She frowned. “Well, I guess it could have been a woman… Anyway, there was someone that came up from behind us and pushed me into you. After we fell down the stairs and I made sure that you weren’t dead, I tried to open the door… Well, first I tried to get your gun, but I couldn’t figure out how to get it out of the holster, so I found a hanger on top of the washing machine that I thought I could maybe use as a weapon in case whoever it was still happened to be there, and then I tried to open the door, but it was locked.”

  “Cam…”

  “I know, I’m babbling again.” Pulling a tissue from the bag, she scooted closer to Avery and picked up her left hand. “This might hurt a little, I’m sorry,” Cam said just before pressing the tissue to Avery’s palm.

  “A little!” The burning in Avery’s palm ignited into a fire. She tried to pull it away, but Cam held firm. “What the hell are you doing?” The movement flared up the pain in her head and her stomach once again threatened. “Oh god,” she moaned. “I think I’m going to throw up.”

  Still holding the tissue to Avery’s palm, Cam began looking around the room. “Oh no, don’t do that. Hold on, let me see if I can find that bucket.”

  Avery could feel sweat begin to bead on her forehead. “Bring a bucket over here,” she seethed between clenched teeth, “and I will shove it up your ass.”

  “Fine,” Cam huffed just before dropping Avery’s hand. “If that’s how you’re going to be, then you can lay here and rot.” Cam stood and stalked to the corner of the room, where, arms crossed, she leaned against the wall. “And bleed to death. See if I care.”

  Avery heaved a sigh. Well, shit. “Cam,” she said, trying to slowly prop up on her elbows. “I didn’t mean it that way.”

  Cam gave a humorless laugh. “Oh, I’m sorry. I’m unfamiliar with the positive aspect of that age-old Southern euphemism, I’ll shove a bucket up your ass.”

  Something told me not to get out of bed this morning… “Cam, look, I’m sorry. Is that what you want to hear?” Avery bit back a groan as she struggled to sit up. “I’m hurting all over right now, so excuse me if I’m a little snippy.”

  Expressionless, Cam stared at Avery for a moment before pushing off the wall with a sigh. “Here,” she said, kneeling back beside Avery. “Let me help you. Although, I don’t think you should be moving around right now.”

  “If I lie on this hard floor any longer, I’m going to need a back brace,” Avery muttered as she allowed Cam to ease her up into a sitting position, her head throbbing with every move. Cam found an old down comforter on one of the shelves above the washing machine and shoved it between Avery’s back and the cold basement wall. Finally settled, Avery was relieved to feel the pain in her skull begin to subside. She decided to reassess the situation. “So, somebody pushed you?”

  “That’s right.”

  “But you didn’t see their face.”

  “No.”

  “And they locked the basement door?”

  “Locked it or jammed it so it wouldn’t open,” Cam answered with a bob of her head. “I tried pulling and kicking and everything I could think of to get it open. It’s not budging.”

  Damn, Avery thought, I know I cleared the entire house. Where could an intruder have come from? She looked around the room. There were no doors other than one at the top of the stairs. The only window in the room was too high and too narrow for either of them to crawl through. “How about trying to call somebody?”

  Cam shook her head and then brushed away the hair that fell across her face. “No, remember? I lost my phone somewhere between the Johnston house and—”

  “And the police station,” Avery finished for her. “That’s right.” She felt around the pockets of her pants. Well, hell. She leaned her head back against the wall with a defeated sigh. “And I left mine in the car.”

  Cam stared quietly before walking back toward the stairs. She picked up the towel that had been beneath Avery’s head and moved to sit beside her on the floor. Without comment, she lifted Avery’s left hand, which was still slowly leaking blood from the three inch long gash along the palm, and pressed the towel to it. After a moment, she said, “Surely Hobbs or somebody from the police department will start
looking for you soon, if they haven’t already.”

  “Maybe,” Avery said, shrugging one shoulder. “But not likely. I went 10-7…out of service…when we left the station. I was planning on stopping by the house to get something for dinner before heading back in. I told Hobbs he could call it a night after the lab called. I suppose it’s possible he could try to call me and then go looking when I don’t answer. Or maybe my grandmother when I don’t come home tonight.”

  The corner of Cam’s mouth quirked up. “You live with your grandmother?”

  “Really?”

  “Oh, I didn’t mean it like that,” Cam tutted. “I was just… Surprised. I think it’s sweet.”

  Avery rolled her eyes. Yeah, right. “Sweet, hmm?”

  “Yes, sweet. I mean, I’m not sure where I thought you would have lived. Not that I think about you.” Shifting her seating position, Cam blushed. “You know what I mean.”

  Avery couldn’t help but grin at Cam’s distress. “I do.”

  Cam lifted the towel from Avery’s palm as if to check the wound before gently wrapping the towel around her hand. “I guess I probably figured you lived alone or maybe with your girlfriend. I mean, most people our age—”

  Frowning, Avery arched an eyebrow. “What makes you think I have a girlfriend?”

  “I’m sorry, what?”

  Avery stretched back against the comforter. She leveled her gaze on Cam, studying the other woman’s face a long moment before continuing, “You said you figured I lived alone or with my girlfriend.”

  “Well, I didn’t see that you wear a wedding ring, so I just assumed…”

  “What makes you think I would have a girlfriend and not a boyfriend?”

  “Oh.” The color left Cam’s cheeks. “Um…I guess I just…”

  Avery gave Cam a calculated smile, deciding then where she wanted to take the conversation. “Assumed that I was a lesbian?” She made a production of running a hand through her hair. “Or are you saying that I look one?”

  “What?” Cam let go of the towel she had been holding to Avery’s bloody hand and stood. Taking a step back, she said, “No, of course not.”

  “Really? You don’t think I look gay?”

  “Yes. I mean, no. I mean…”

  “Mean what?” Avery tugged her bottom lip between her teeth as she watched Cam’s reaction to her words. “Tell me Ms. Reinhart, do you like girls?” Cam’s cheeks flushed, and she opened and closed her mouth like a fish out of water. Not waiting for a response, Avery pressed on. “What were you lying to Detective Bishop about?”

  Cam’s eyes went round. “What?”

  Gotcha. “Back at the station, when you were in the interrogation room with Detective Bishop. Before I came into the room, I was watching you through the observation window. You weren’t being totally honest when you were answering his questions.”

  “I wasn’t lying about anything,” Cam protested, dropping her gaze to the concrete floor as she spoke.

  Avery tilted her head slowly, carefully regarding Cam’s body language. She was a study in deception. “Hiding something, then?”

  Cam met Avery’s eyes with a challenging stare. “What would I have to hide?”

  “You tell me.”

  “Detective Smith? Avery, are you in there?”

  The sudden sound of Hobbs’s voice was accompanied by a pounding on the basement door. Cam jumped at the noise. She dashed to the stairs, looking expectantly from Avery to the door and back again.

  Avery attempted to stand but the pain in her head rebelled against the movement. Biting back a groan, she shouted up, “Hobbs? We’re stuck down here.”

  Avery could hear the rattling of the door handle. “The door is locked.”

  Oh, good grief. “I know the door’s locked, Hobbs, that’s why we’re stuck.”

  From the other side of the door came a silence and then Hobbs called out, “Oh. Okay, well…hold on.”

  “That boy is going to be the death of me yet,” Avery muttered, rubbing her uninjured hand over her forehead.

  “I think I saw a ghost.”

  “I’m sorry, what?”

  Cam stepped back toward Avery, scratching along the inside of her arm as she moved. “Back at the station…” she said hesitantly. “That’s what I was…” She drew in a deep breath as if to steady herself. “When I was with Chuck at the Johnston house, there wasn’t a woman. Not a live one, anyway. She appeared and then…I could see through her, like she was—”

  “A ghost.”

  “Yes,” Cam nodded.

  Narrowing her eyes, Avery inclined her head. “Like on your TV show?”

  “No, not like on my TV show,” Cam snapped. “Those ghosts aren’t real. Ghosts aren’t real, it’s all just an act.” She swept a hand through her hair, casting a look up to the ceiling. “Or I didn’t think they were until I saw—”

  “A ghost.”

  Cam’s cheeks flushed the color of her hair. “You keep saying that like you think I’m crazy or making it up.”

  Avery mulled over the concept of what Cam was saying. “No, I don’t think either of those things. I think ma—”

  Her next words were cut off by the crashing of the basement door. She looked up to see Hobbs bounding down the stairs. “Oh my gosh, Avery, are you okay?”

  “I’m fine,” she answered, and then began struggling to stand.

  Cam’s unexpectedly firm hand gripped her shoulder and held her in place. “No, she’s not fine. She got knocked out, and there’s a horrible cut on her hand that needs stitches.” Avery tossed Cam a sideways glance, which the other woman promptly ignored. Cam smiled at Hobbs as he knelt down beside Avery. “Thank goodness you came looking for us.”

  “Well, after the lab called,” he said, “I tried to call you. When you didn’t answer I got worried, especially after what they had to say.”

  Avery frowned. “What was the information from the lab?”

  Hobbs gently picked up the towel laying loose over Avery’s hand, swallowing hard as he took in the sight beneath. “Damn, Avery, your hand looks bad.”

  She reached up with her uninjured hand and turned his chin so that he faced her. “Hobbs, what did the lab say?”

  “The ID that was found at the crime scene, the one that was covered in mud… They checked it for fingerprints and traces of DNA. They weren’t able to get either.”

  “It’s like pulling teeth to get you to the point, isn’t it?” Avery grumbled. “What about that made you worry?”

  “The ID…” He looked at Cam and then back to Avery. “It belonged to Jennifer Morris. She’s our victim.”

  Chapter Twelve

  “Are you sure you’re going to be okay waiting here, Ms. Reinhart?”

  “Of course. And, remember—we agreed that you were going to call me Cam?”

  “Yes ma’am.”

  “Thank you again for offering to drive me to the real estate office to pick up my rental car,” she said, walking into the office that Hobbs shared with Avery. “Although, you really don’t have to go to all the trouble. I could have gotten an Uber or something to take me over to the real estate office to pick it up.”

  “I’m not really sure what that is, ma’am, but it’s not a problem. I pass right by there on my way home.”

  The corners of Cam’s mouth lifted into a smile as she sat her purse down atop Hobbs’s desk. She turned back to face him, leaning her hip against the corner of the desk. “Now if I could just find my cell phone, I’ll be set.”

  “Don’t worry,” he said with a puppy dog nod. “I’m sure it will turn up. Avery said that she’d ask Detective Bishop about it.”

  “Yes, well…” Cam had had more than enough of Detective Bishop and would leave any future interactions with the vile man to Avery. Speaking of… “Have you heard anything on how Avery’s doing?”

  After Hobbs had rescued them from Jennifer’s basement, he’d called in for assistance. A flurry of activity followed, with the sheriff himself showing up
to take control of the scene. An ambulance arrived to check out both Cam and Avery, who the paramedics had deemed necessary to transport to the hospital. Cam had been taken back to the police station for questioning. She’d been somewhat relieved to find the chief deputy was the one to take her statement rather than Bishop.

  “She’s supposed to be on her way back with the sheriff. He went down to the hospital after cordoning off the crime scene to check on her. Miss Darlene told me that she heard Avery had to get half a dozen stitches on that hand.”

  Grimacing, Cam nodded her head. “I thought it was pretty deep. I’m surprised, though, that they didn’t keep her overnight with her head injury.”

  “Well, you know Detective Smith. Like my mother would say, sometimes she can be hotter than a two-dollar pistol.”

  Cam laughed. “I’ve got to meet this mother of yours one day, Hobbs.”

  “I guess I have mentioned her a lot, huh?”

  Cam bit back a grin as color flooded Hobbs’s cheeks. “Just a little.”

  “Well… I should be done with everything I need to wrap up here at the station in just a little while, then I’ll run you to your car.”

  “I’ll be right here,” Cam said walking around the desk to sit in Hobbs’s chair. “Take all the time you need.”

  He tossed her a hesitant look before nodding and walking out the door. She liked Hobbs and had decided a few minutes after meeting him that he didn’t fit her idea of a police officer. With his broad shoulders and rugged good looks, Hobbs reminded her of any number of young actors that she’d seen flock to Hollywood in hopes of stardom, most of whom ended up waiting tables at area restaurants.

  Sighing, Cam let her head fall back onto the stiff leather of the desk chair. There wasn’t much she wouldn’t give to be back in California and away from all the—whatever the hell you’d call it—that had gone on over the past several hours. Really, if she thought about it, the entire time she’d spent in Bethel Springs, starting with that 3 a.m. trip to the funeral home, had verged on the bizarre. From all that the night before Loralyn’s funeral, to the funeral itself, to that thing that she’d seen at the Johnston house, to getting locked in Jennifer’s basement with Avery…