Grace sat near the window of Grave Gulch Coffee and Treats. For what actually might be the hundredth time, she checked her phone.
The time was five thirty.
She hadn’t missed a single message.
The witness was almost twenty minutes late.
Moreover, she hadn’t bothered to text with an excuse. Nor had she suggested a new meeting time.
A lot of police work was waiting around for something to happen. Grace knew better. It was time to face facts. The woman wasn’t going to show.
A lump stuck in her throat. She set the phone down and reached for a cup of coffee, now lukewarm, and gagged down a sip.
Her phone vibrated. She scooped it up and opened the call. Heart racing, Grace was breathless. “Hello?”
“Hey.” It was Camden. At this very moment, he sat in his car that was parked at the end of the street. He also had his camera, equipped with a lens powerful enough to get clear photos of anyone entering the coffee shop, even from a block away. Beyond the camera, Grace wore a small microphone, the size of a pen cap. It was taped between her breasts and hidden by her bra. The microphone recorded every noise within twenty feet and transmitted it to a broadcaster in Camden’s car.
“You see anything?” she asked.
“Nothing on the street.”
The invisible kernel in Grace’s throat hardened as it filled with disappointment. Without the witness, she had no other way to clear her name or save her career.
“Anything in the coffee shop?”
“Nope,” she said, her voice cracking.
“Tell me what you see.”
Grace scanned the shop. Ten small tables filled the room; less than half were occupied. Nearest to Grace was a mother staring at her cell phone, while her two children fought with swizzle sticks. At the table next to the door sat a guy with a beard and a laptop who muttered at the screen as he typed. An elderly couple was huddled in the corner, bent over two cups of coffee and a single blueberry scone. Their happiness was almost palpable, and Grace wondered if she’d ever find the kind of love that could last a lifetime.
“There’s nothing to see.”
“Hold on,” he interrupted. “I have another call.”
“Go ahead,” she said, dark humor starting to take over. “I’ve got nowhere else to be and nothing else to do.”
Camden was gone for less than a minute before he was back on the line. “That was your cousin Bryce.”
Bryce? When had the two men become so chummy? “What’s he want?”
“Someone called. They think they saw Len Davison at a local campground. Right now, Bryce needs backup.”
“From you?”
“From me, but I don’t need to leave if you need me.”
“There’s no way I’m going to stop you from searching for Davison.” She dropped her voice to keep the conversation from being overheard by her fellow patrons. “Go,” she said. “I’ll be fine.”
“Really, I can’t leave you alone. You aren’t even an active cop.”
His words stung, like a slap to the face. “Excuse me?” Even Grace heard the steely tone of her voice.
“I didn’t mean it that way...”
She didn’t have the energy to argue with him. “I’m hanging up now. You go.” She ended the call. A moment later a sleek silver car passed the window, and she knew that Camden had driven away. Her eyes were dry and gritty. She screwed them shut.
Inhale. Exhale. Just breathe.
Well, there was nothing more for Grace to do—other than finish her coffee and maybe order one of the blueberry scones.
Opening her eyes, she lifted the cup to her lips and took a small sip. The door opened. A person stepped into the coffee shop wearing a hoodie and a large pair of sunglasses. Even with the features hidden, Grace recognized her at once.
It was the female witness.
Camden dropped his foot onto the accelerator, and his car shot down the road. The rendezvous point, located at a secluded state park outside of town, was still several miles away. At this speed, he’d be there soon.
As he drove, he cataloged his lengthy list of problems. First was the most obvious. Without being able to prove her innocence, Grace would be considered guilty. Even if Camden could show that Robert Grimaldi owned a gun, even if Arielle Parks didn’t file criminal charges, Grace would lose her job.
Certainly, there was more that could be done. But what? Right now, he was fresh out of ideas.
Another looming problem was much more immediate. Technically, he’d taken leave from his work. It enabled him to help Grace without the implication of favoritism—and yeah, he did favor Grace Colton a lot.
Nevertheless, facts were facts. Only a few hours before, he’d stepped away from his job. It meant that he shouldn’t even be racing down the tree-lined road to help Bryce Colton. In reality, his presence could muck up any subsequent prosecutions.
Camden gripped the steering wheel as his imagination took over for a single moment. Sitting on the witness stand, Camden would be faced with a sly defense attorney.
Mr. Kingsley, can you explain why you assisted Special Agent Colton in the apprehension of Len Davison? Make sure you include the details about why you were there, especially since you weren’t technically working for Internal Affairs.
Camden turned off the main road. With less than a mile to the rendezvous, he didn’t have a plausible reason for helping the Fed.
It meant only one thing.
Camden had to tell Bryce everything.
The shores of Lake Michigan were filled with recreational areas. There were several near Grave Gulch. A sign pointed to the park’s entrance. A narrow drive was lined on both sides with a thick forest. In the distance, sun glinted off the gunmetal-gray water of the lake.
During the summer, this was a popular destination. At any time from Memorial Day to Labor Day, the park would be busy with picnickers, swimmers and boaters. But the season had ended weeks before. Now, a single car was parked near the entrance. Bryce Colton sat on the trunk. He stood as Camden pulled to a stop.
“Thanks for coming on such short notice,” said Bryce as Camden opened the door. “Looks like I’m calling in that favor you owe pretty quickly.”
“Before we get started, I need to come clean.”
“Come clean?” Bryce echoed. “About what?”
“Technically, I’m on leave.”
Bryce gaped. “This is news to me, man. Why?”
Camden knew he was wasting time by not being forthright. “It’s Grace.”
“My cousin?” Bryce drew his brows together. “What happened to her?”
“I’ve become...” Camden searched for the right word. “Attached.”
“Like, how attached?”
“Attached enough.” He exhaled. “Listen, I’m willing to step away from my job for her. I have to help Grace prove that she’s innocent.” Camden searched for the right words. He continued, “You gotta know that I could mess up your investigation. Or bring any arrests into question at trial.”
“As far as I’m concerned, following this lead is more important. If it makes you feel better, I’ll deputize you as a task force officer. Because what I need now is someone I can count on. And you just told me everything I need to know.”
“Which is what?”
“If you’re the kind of guy who’s willing to give up everything for the truth, then you’re the kind of guy who I can count on.”
It might not have been the perfect answer. Still, it was enough for Camden. “You have a lead?”
“Sure do. This afternoon, there was a woman walking her dog. She saw someone and swears it was Len Davison.”
A road, barely big enough for two cars to pass side by side, led to the water’s edge. Was this how the Len Davison investigation ended? Him spotted by a woman who was walking her dog?
“Swears?” Camden echoed Bryce’s earlier choice of word. “That’s sounds pretty certain.”
Bryce grunted. “It is, and yet...”
Camden picked up the thread of conversation that Bryce had let unravel. “What else did the woman say?”
“She went on a bit about keeping close tabs on the press coverage about Davison. She also mentioned her name several times, in case I need to pass it on to any reporters.”
“Sounds a little dubious,” said Camden.
“I was thinking the same thing. She said that the guy was camping. But all the campgrounds are closed for the season.”
“Living rough follows Davison’s MO.”
Bryce nodded. “Right again. Besides, we have to follow up on every lead. Just because someone wants a little publicity doesn’t mean they’re lying.”
“What’s the plan?” Camden asked. “Where’s everyone else? Air support? State police? Canine units?”
A search for the serial killer should involve more than two people.
“For the moment, it’s just us. We’ll search the area where the man was seen. If there’s reason to suspect it was Len, we call in the rest of the troops.”
So the mission was just reconnaissance.
“Give me a second.” He reached into the car’s glove box.
On a day-to-day basis, Camden had little use for his weapon. He kept the Glock 9 mm in his glove box, which was kept locked. The pistol was stored in a holster, and Camden removed them both. Sliding back the sight, he chambered a round. After he secured the gun back in the holster, he threaded both onto his belt. Taking a moment to adjust the entire rig on his hip, he untucked his shirt and let the tail hide the firearm.
“You ready?” asked Bryce, sliding a gun into the shoulder holster he wore. He donned a jacket, and the sidearm was no longer visible.
Bryce’s question hung in the air. Was Camden ready?
He nodded once. “Let’s roll.”
They didn’t stay on the road, which ran directly to the lake’s shore. Instead, the duo took a path that led through the woods. The sun now hung on the western horizon. Still, there would be hours of twilight before it became fully dark. The half-light leached the forest of its colors, turning everything murky and muted.
Then Camden caught a glimpse of bright red through the trees. Was it a person? Pulse spiking, he dropped his hand to his Glock.
A moment later Bryce tapped him on the shoulder, a silent command to stop. “I think this is it. We’ve found what the woman saw.”
Camden nodded.
Less than fifty yards away, a campsite was hidden at the base of a large tree. The tent was little more than two plastic tarps held up by a frame. A firepit, just a divot in the earth, was surrounded with stones. A banked fire smoldered. Several cans of food were stacked next to a pot that was propped up on a nearby rock. A cord, stretched between two branches, held several articles of tattered and frayed clothing.
A red jacket hung limply and swayed slightly with the breeze. It was that coat which Camden had seen first. Keeping his hand close to his gun, he whispered back. “We’ve definitely found a campsite. The question is, who’s been staying here?”
As if on cue, a person emerged from the tent. Narrowing his eyes, Camden peered through the woods. It was a man—that much was obvious from the build and the thick brown mustache and beard. His dark hair was lanky, dirty and tangled.
He’d seen pictures of the serial killer and imagined that he’d recognize him on sight. But with the distance, the trees and the waning light, Camden couldn’t be certain.
He wore a sweatshirt with frayed cuffs and a pair of ripped and stained jeans. Camden didn’t see a weapon—a gun or even a knife. From this distance, what he saw meant next to nothing.
The man went down on one knee next to the pile of cans. After lifting one from the stack, he scanned the label.
Without question, the guy had been living out of doors for a while. Moreover, he had the hungry look that came with desperation.
But there was one question that was yet to be answered.
Was this man Len Davison, the serial killer wanted by the GGPD?
Bryce took a step. Underfoot, a twig snapped. In the quiet woods, the sound ricocheted off the trees.
“Damn it,” Bryce mouthed.
Camden’s gut clenched as the guy slowly glanced over his shoulder. At fifty yards, Camden could clearly see the man, even through the trees.
It meant that the guy could see them, but only if he knew where to look. For the span of a heartbeat, he scanned the woods. His eyes were narrowed, and his brows drawn together. If Camden had to guess, he’d say that the guy hadn’t seen them—yet.
Then his gaze stopped. He looked directly at Camden. The two men made eye contact. There was no use in trying to hide now. Resting one hand near the gun at his hip, Camden raised his other. “Hey,” he said. “I’m with Internal Affairs. This is Special Agent Colton with the FBI. Do you have a minute to chat with us?”
The man slowly rose to his feet. For an instant, Camden was certain that he would cooperate. Without a word, the man turned and sprinted farther into the woods.
The woman took off her sunglasses and slid into the seat across from Grace. She was young—under twenty years old, by Grace’s estimation. She stared at her hands, and Grace shifted in her place.
The small microphone that was taped to her chest shuddered with each beat of her heart. Even though she’d seen Camden drive away, she glanced at the window, hoping beyond hope that he’d come back. His car wasn’t on the street. Of course: he was gone. All the same, without him to capture the images, there would be no evidence that the woman had been here at all.
Would the meeting even matter?
“You alone?” the woman asked, her eyes trained on the table.
Nodding, Grace said, “I am.”
“Anybody on the street?” The woman looked toward the large window.
“Nobody.”
The witness sat in silence. Grace knew it was up to her to start a dialogue. She was new on the police force, but she’d been taught that the best way to connect with a suspect was to build a rapport.
“I’m glad you’re here,” she said. “I’d started to think that you wouldn’t come at all.”
“To be honest, I’m still not sure that I should’ve.”
“But you did come,” said Grace quickly, before the woman could talk herself out of confessing what she knew. Or, worse, leave. “It means you’re ready to do the right thing.”
She gave a snort-laugh. “If you say so.”
“You are here,” Grace said again, putting more force in her words. “And you were there on Thursday night, too. I saw you.”
“If you say so.” She paused before adding, “Cop.”
There was enough venom in the single word that it sounded like a curse.
Grace’s temperature rose, along with her temper. After everything she’d been through, this woman—and her attitude—was the last thing she wanted to deal with. Sitting back in her seat, Grace folded her arms across her chest. “Okay, then, why did you show up? It’s certainly not to help. Or to do the right thing.” She flicked her wrist toward the door. “Go back to hiding. Go back to not showing your face in public.”
The woman looked up. Her eyes were wide. “That’s not...” Her voice trailed off, thick with emotion.
Grace tried to muster some sympathy. Despite all the trouble this person and her friend had caused by running off—and possibly taking the gun—she could imagine how meeting with Grace would be personally difficult. She decided to try another tactic. “The guy you were with...”
“What about him?”
“He doesn’t know that you’re here, does he?”
“Thad?” She shook her head and gave a chuckle. “He’s clueless that I’ve even left the apartment.”
It just seemed like chitchat. In reality, the woman had shared a good bit of important information. Grace cataloged what she now knew: the witness lived in a nearby apartment with a guy named Thad, who also happened to be the other witness.
“Clueless?” Grace echoed, matching the woman’s laugh with one of her own. “How?”
“He’s still asleep.”
“Really?” Grace glanced outside. The sun had set, turning the sky orange and pink. “He’s been asleep all day? Does he work nights?”
“Hungover is more like it. But yeah, he’s been out most of the day.”
“That must be hard on you.”
The woman shrugged. “Sometimes.”
“I’m Grace, by the way.”
“Yeah, I know. I saw your video.”
Grace nodded and then waited a beat. “You are?”
“Chastity.”
Yes! I have names for both witnesses. “Chastity what?”
“Just Chastity.”
“Okay.” She paused a beat. “You want a coffee or something?”
Chastity shook her head. “I’m okay for now.”
Just like in the textbook, Grace had followed all the rules for building a bond with a subject. Yet, she had one more question. Now what?
She was still mad at Camden for his “not an active cop” comment. All the same, he was a hell of an investigator and had given her decent advice. What had he said? Oh, yeah. Be honest.
And honestly, Grace was anxious to find out what Chastity knew—and what else she might say. “Do you mind telling me what you saw on Thursday night?”
Scratching the side of her face, Chastity sighed. “It was really dark.”
Was this another dead end? “You seemed upset that night. You had to have seen something.”
“I know that you fired a gun. I could see the flash of flames coming out of the end part.”
“The muzzle?”
“I guess that’s what you call it.”
“Thad approached the man who was shot. Do you know what was said?”
Dropping her gaze to the table, Chastity traced a whorl in the wood with her fingernail. “I’m starting to think that coming was a bad idea. Maybe I should go.”
Damn. Grace had been too direct. She’d pushed Chastity too hard. Now she’d scared off the one person who could help clear her name. It also confirmed Grace’s suspicion: Chastity definitely had something to hide.
“Don’t go,” she said quickly. “I mean, you just got here. You want a coffee?”
“You’ve already asked me about that, and I’ve already told you I’m not interested.” Pushing back from the table, she stood. “Besides, you lied in your video. You don’t want to help me. You just need me. That’s it.” With a roll of her eyes, she added, “I hope that they hang you for what you’ve done, cop.”
Grace had been taught how to deal with members of the public who were difficult or hostile. But she’d never been told how to deal with someone who was as mercurial as Chastity. It left her with one thing to do—rely on her instincts. The question was, would it be enough?
Camden had said that Chastity was looking for a friend. Could Grace be that friend and find out the truth at the same time?
“You’re right,” Grace said with an exhale. “I want to clear my name. But you’re wrong when you say that I don’t want to help. I do. Right now, you’re caught in a trap that you set. You can’t go anywhere in Grave Gulch without being turned in to the police. But if you talk to me, I can help clear your name, as well.”
“Or I can stay in my apartment. Face it, all of this will eventually blow over...” Her words trailed off as her decisive tone weakened.
“Is that what Thad told you?”
Chastity dropped back into her seat. “Maybe that’s what I told him.”
Thad was the one who made all the decisions. Why break the law, though? Did Chastity’s love for Thad leave her blind? Or was there something else?
Grace asked, “You don’t like the police much, do you?”
“Let’s just say that the police haven’t always been on the job when it comes to protecting and serving.”
Grace would bet good money there was a lot more to Chastity’s story. “So what happened?”
“Nothing,” said Chastity. It was clearly a lie.
“Most everyone in my family works for the Grave Gulch Police Department—except for a few people. Like my cousin Bryce.”
“What’s he do?”
“He’s a special agent with the FBI.” The mention of her cousin brought back Camden’s abrupt exit. She couldn’t help but wonder if they’d actually found the serial killer—and if everyone was safe.
“Sounds like he’s a cop, too.”
“I guess,” said Grace. “Just with a fancier badge.”
Her small joke earned a smirk from Chastity. “Must be nice to have such a close family.”
“Most of the time, it is. We all gravitated to law enforcement for a specific reason.” Grace continued, launching into the story she hadn’t planned to share. “My dad was married years ago to another woman. Amanda’s the mom of Troy and Desiree, my half siblings. Anyway, when Troy and Desiree were little, Amanda was murdered. To this day, the killer’s never been found.”
“Why go into law enforcement? The police failed you like they fail everyone else. It’s not a reason to be a cop.”
“That’s just the thing. The pain my family felt is something we want to keep others from feeling, too. We want to do our job.”
Leaning back in her chair, Chastity folded her arms tight across her chest. Grace didn’t need any police training to understand the body language.
Chastity was trying to protect herself. But why?
Was the younger woman trying to keep Grace out?
Or was she trying to put up an emotional wall before Grace had a chance to get in?
“Hey,” Grace said, her voice low and soft. “We all have past hurts. I think you have one that involves the police. I’m sorry for whatever happened.”
A fat tear snaked down the side of Chastity’s cheek. She wiped it away with her sleeve. “It wasn’t me. It was my mom. My dad.” Exhaling, she shook her head. “He liked to drink and fight. Sometimes, well, he hit my mom.”
“That must’ve been a hard way to grow up.”
“The thing is, at first you don’t know better. Then you realize that your family isn’t like everyone else’s. When that day comes, well, it sucks. From then on, all you want is to look normal. But one day...” She wiped away another tear and turned to look out the window.
It was then that Grace realized she’d been holding her breath. “But one day...” she coaxed.
“One day I couldn’t stand it anymore. I called 9-1-1. A police officer showed up. My dad spoke to him outside. I watched from my bedroom window. I couldn’t hear what they were saying, but it didn’t matter. I could tell. They started off all serious, heads bowed together. Then my dad must’ve said something funny because the cop laughed. A minute or two later, they were slapping each other on the back. It was just like they’d been friends since forever. The cop left, and my dad came back into the house.”
Grace was afraid of the answer, yet she had to ask. “What happened then?”
“My dad told me.” She hooked air quotes around the word. Grace assumed that the telling was closer to yelling. “He explained to the cop that I was just a bratty teenager, bent on getting my dad in trouble. He lied. But what’s worse, the cop never checked it out. He never talked to my mom, who had a black eye. He never asked to see me. The cop just talked to my dad, who gave him some BS answer, and left.”
Chastity’s voice had risen. The elderly couple glanced over. Chastity slouched in her seat.
“I can’t speak for that police officer, but you have every right to be mad at him.” Grace knew what she had to do now—much as she hated the sacrifice. Shoving back from the table, she stood. “We both know that Robert Grimaldi had a gun. I saw it, and you did, too. I’m not going to ask you to come forward. I’ll handle whatever happens to me. Well, thanks for showing up.”
“Wait.” Chastity was on her feet. “What will happen?”
Grace was already across the room. Without a word, she opened the door and stepped into the cool evening air.
Chastity followed. They both stood on the empty sidewalk. “What will happen?” she asked again.
“To be honest, I don’t know.”
“I mean, there’s some other way to prove that guy had a gun, right?”
Grace shook her head. “That’s the thing. There isn’t.”
“What’ll happen to you? Let me guess. You’ll get a few weeks off with pay. It’ll be like a vacation.”
“I know for a fact that I’ll lose my job. With an unauthorized use of force on my résumé, I’ll never work in law enforcement again. Hell, it’ll be hard to get hired anywhere. Who wants to hire an unstable cop? Then, there’s the worst-case scenario.”
“What’s worse than losing your job? Or not getting another one?”
“I’ll end up in jail.”
“They can’t do that.” Chastity’s voice had risen again. “You didn’t do anything wrong.”
“Without video or a witness or even the gun, I have no proof. It’s my word against Grimaldi’s.” After the last few days, Grace was exhausted. She only wanted to go home and sleep. When she woke, what then? Well, then she’d have to figure out the rest of her life.
“You’re wrong,” said Chastity. “You do have a witness. You have me.”
“Are you willing to speak to the authorities now?”
Chastity gave a quick nod. “I figure there have to be at least some good cops out there. It seems like you’re one of them. You should keep your job. Right?”
Grace’s shoulders relaxed, letting go of tension she didn’t realize that she’d been holding. “Right,” she echoed.
“And that’s not all. I know something about the gun.”
“What about the gun?” Grace asked, her voice a whisper.
“I know where it is.”
“You do? Where?”
Chastity looked up and down the street. “I have it. It’s in my apartment. We’ve wiped off all the prints, so you won’t be able to tie me or Thad to the gun.”
Did Chastity really have the gun? There was no reason for her lie. She knew it really didn’t matter. It’d be foolish for Grace to go into an apartment where a desperate and dangerous man had a weapon—especially since she didn’t have a sidearm of her own—or backup. Just thinking the single word hit her like a slap to the face. Her cheeks burned and her eyes stung.
Camden had said many things and all of them had turned out to be true.
Right now, she wasn’t officially on duty. That meant she couldn’t call in the help she needed.
Which meant her next move should be what? They definitely never covered this scenario at the police academy. In an instant, she knew that sending Camden away had been wrong, because without him she was truly on her own.