Total pages in book: 137
Estimated words: 128307 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 642(@200wpm)___ 513(@250wpm)___ 428(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 128307 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 642(@200wpm)___ 513(@250wpm)___ 428(@300wpm)
“She’s always been a vanilla ice cream kind of girl, but I have a feeling things might have changed, so maybe we could pick up a pie on the way?” I beam, happy with the compromise. I don’t have time to make dessert. I was merely being polite. “I’ll call Chinos and get them to put aside a chocolate ganache pie.”
He leaves before he sees the bewilderment on my face.
Chocolate ganache pie is my favorite dessert, not Cameron’s.
Trying not to look too deeply into such an innocent gesture, I open my laptop and pull up all my case files. Everything is where it should be except for one file. Cameron’s file is no longer part of my task flow program. The program says they removed her file because it is no longer active.
Does that mean her case is officially closed?
My hands are shaky, so I have to type Cameron’s case file number into the search bar three times before her file pops up. Her case isn’t just closed. It looks like I closed it. My name is on the final report, and my signature, although digitized, is at the bottom.
What the?
I read the summary as an agent would, taking emotions out of the equation. Though clinical and detached, the language paints the entire picture. “No further action required. Victim located. Case solved.”
I stare at the screen, conflicted. Did someone access my account? And did they do it to protect Cameron’s new identity or to bury her case? The chill that rolls up my spine announces it’s most likely a bit of both, which can only mean one thing. Grayson closed her case.
Even though her case is officially suspended, I comb through the reports I didn’t have access to during the active investigation. I find nothing out of the ordinary until I reach a record attached to her file. It is filed under Blake Guilford, Cameron’s ex-boyfriend.
My hand shoots up to muffle my shocked gasp when I click his file. His record was hidden because he wasn’t solely a prospective witness to Cameron’s “kidnapping.” He took the blame for it.
They weren’t driving to a game as friends the night Cameron was abducted. Blake was doing a drug run, and that run ended with a threat from the distributor when the gym bags in the trunk of the car Grayson totaled hours later weighed several pounds lighter than the dealer was invoiced.
I’ve hardly recovered from my first sting of shock when a line slaps the air from my lungs. “Subject’s girlfriend was threatened…”
Girlfriend. Not friend. Not ex. Girlfriend.
Fingers fumbling, I dial the number associated with the document. A detective from New York answers after two rings. “Detective Rice.”
“My name is Macy Machini. I am with the bureau.” I rattle off my identification and badge number. “I’m currently going over the paperwork of a recently closed case—”
“Cameron June?” Though I can’t see him, I bet his expression matches his high tone. He couldn’t sound more shocked.
“Yes.”
A noisy parcel of air rustles down the line. “We’re still shocked by that one. We never thought she’d be found. Is she alive?”
I refrain from offering the same short answer as before. Grayson didn’t keep the details of Cameron’s return a secret for no reason, and it isn’t my place to force the narrative on her return.
Ignoring my heart’s shouting chants of “finally,” I get down to business. “I’m not calling in regard to Ms. June’s case. I am inquiring about a file associated with hers.” I rattle off the case number on Blake’s sealed record. “You took Mr. Guilford’s statement. Correct?”
“Yes, that is correct. He was so distraught that we almost charged him with her disappearance. It was only after we settled him down enough to break through his gibberish that we realized he had taken the blame for her disappearance. He didn’t take her.”
“Because she was with him during the cocaine shipment?”
He hums in agreement. “When the distributor noticed the discrepancy, he did what all gangbangers do. He threatened Mr. Guilford’s girlfriend.”
Everything he says makes sense, but I’m looking at it from another viewpoint. “Are you sure Ms. June was his girlfriend? Perhaps she was fronting as his girlfriend because she knew they’d use her as leverage. A threat would allow them to reconvene outside of compound walls.”
“We considered that theory, but after running Mr. Guilford’s details through the system, it was obvious they were more than friends.” He laughs in a way that gives me the creeps. “A lewd act caught on a traffic cam is hard to misconstrue, Macy.”
“Agent Machini,” I correct, loathing the pigheadedness of his tone. “Could he have been assaulting her in that footage?”
His croaky chuckle must cover his phone in spit. It is gargling and wet. “No chance. I’ve perused the footage a dozen times. Ms. June was very much a voluntary participant in the exchange.” Again, he laughs. “Unless she thought the snake in his trousers needed resuscitation.”