“Hello?”
“Is this Camilla Stewart?”
Camilla hesitated a second before responding. “Yes. How can I help you?”
“Ms. Stewart, this is Destiny. I work for Ridge Boudreau. I’m the resident computer specialist.”
Camilla let out the breath she’d been holding. She wasn’t sure why she’d anticipated bad news when she answered the phone. “Of course. Heath mentioned you were going to work on my cell phone, see if you could figure out if there was anything on it that might hold a clue to why somebody’s after me.”
“Exactly. I downloaded everything onto my computer, and I’ve got a couple of things I’d like to discuss with you and Mr. Boudreau.”
“That’s great. Heath’s in town right now, but he should be back soon. Do you want us to meet you someplace?”
“Might be better if I met you, Ms. Stewart. You’re at the Big House, right? I’ve got a few of things to take care of this morning, but I should be able to get there in a couple of hours. Does that work for you?”
“We’ll be here. I’ll text Heath as soon as we’re done here and let him know you’re coming.” Her fingers tapped on the kitchen table, and she hesitated for a minute before asking, “Can you give me a clue what you’ve found? I want my life back.”
“In this case, Ms. Stewart, seeing is believing. I think you’re going to be surprised at what I’ve found. We are talking shock and awe here. Shock. And. Awe.” Destiny’s cheerful voice helped alleviate at least a modicum of the fear roiling in Camilla’s gut. It couldn’t be all bad if she sounded so freaking happy about things, right?
“Okay. See you in a couple hours.”
She hung up and stared down at her nearly empty plate. Somehow, she’d managed to sleep later than normal this morning, and then lingered over breakfast, thinking about the scene she’d worked on before deciding to get something to eat. Ever since she’d been shot, her writing schedule had been turned topsy-turvy, and the deadline had flown out the window. Chances were good she’d have to ask for an extension on said deadline, something she hated doing, because it meant disappointing her fans.
Taking a deep breath, she sent a text to Heath, telling him about Destiny’s call and that she wanted to meet with them in a couple hours. Then she rinsed her breakfast dishes, put them into the dishwasher, and poured another cup of coffee. She always joked with Beth that she didn’t have red blood cells, she had caffeine running through her veins.
Heading to the living room of the Big House, she quickly settled into the large cushy chair she’d confiscated as her temporary writing spot. She’d already turned on her laptop before she’d sat down to breakfast, and now she pulled up her e-mails, scrolling through to see if there was anything needing immediate attention. One in particular caught her eye and she clicked the icon to open it.
Her eyes widened at the brief note from the police department in North Carolina. Reading through it, she bit back a laugh. Officer Dandridge asked if she knew Etienne Boudreau, also known as Gator. Apparently, he was asking some pointed questions of the good detective and giving him grief about things he’d missed in his investigation.
Sounded like Officer Dandridge wasn’t too happy with having a second set of eyes peering over his shoulder. Too bad. Knowing Heath’s Uncle Gator had turned his focus onto finding out who’d shot at her made Camilla feel better. At least he cared enough to take a personal interest. Douglas and Heath had both assured her if anybody could get to the bottom of who was after Camilla, it was Gator. She believed them.
She shot an e-mail back to the policeman, assuring him Gator Boudreau was investigating her case, and had authorization to see all records pertaining to the police’s investigation. While she was at it, she also asked for an update on what progress had been made in catching her shooter.
When her text alert dinged, she read Heath’s response. He’d try and be back by the time Destiny got there, but he might be a little late. Wonder what he’s sticking his nose into today? I swear, the man is a danger magnet.
With e-mail out of the way, she pulled up her manuscript and read through the last scene she’d written, getting her head back into the story. Heat began to flood her cheeks when she realized the hero of this book had somehow morphed into Heath. Mortified, she closed her eyes and rested her face in her palms. She never used real people in her books. Oh, sure, she might take a characteristic from somebody once in a while, but nothing obvious. Yet staring at the words on the laptop screen, anybody who knew Heath in real life would instantly recognize Detective Shane McBride as a doppelgänger for the real thing. Making a note to go back and make changes, she focused on the story of the hunky detective helping lead the search for the kidnapped bank vice president with the help of the sexy private investigator who portrayed the love interest.
Suddenly the words flowed from her brain like watching a high-definition movie, technicolor with scenes and dialogue making the story come alive. It was awesome when that happened, because it didn’t all the time. Some days it was a struggle to get ten words written. Today, it felt like the book wrote itself. It was blessedly quiet, everybody either out working the ranch, or headed toward their day jobs. Nica had gone with Ms. Patti to the real estate office, and the relative silence allowed her to concentrate on the words flowing effortlessly. She knew somebody was around; Heath would have made sure of that. He never let her out of his sight unless one of his brothers or his parents could watch over her.
A knock on the front door snapped her out of her writing bubble, and she glanced at the clock in the corner of her screen. Three hours since she’d sat down to write. Walking to the front door, she spotted a woman standing on the front porch, her dark hair cut in a short pixie style. She must have heard or spotted Camilla, because she smiled and waved.
When she opened the door, the woman held out her hand. “I’m Destiny, computer genius extraordinaire.” She hitched her messenger bag strap higher on her shoulder. A hint of a tattoo peeked out above the edge of her black tank top. Camilla couldn’t make out what it was, but the vivid colors intrigued her. Her writer’s brain made her immediately realize none of the women she’d written about had tattoos, and she made a mental note to write a female character with tattoos. The petite brunette tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, with a casualness that felt genuine and Camilla’s instincts immediately trusted the quirky brunette.
“Hi. Camilla Stewart. Come on in. We’ve got a few minutes, Heath’s not here yet.”
“Great.”
“Give me a sec to save what I’m working on,” Camilla said, heading for her laptop. Even with auto save, she always saved her books to multiple places, including onto the cloud and on thumb drives, as well as e-mailing it to herself. She’d learned the hard way you could never have enough backed up data. Having to recreate an entire book because the original file got corrupted was something she never wanted to repeat.
“Can I get you something to drink?”
“Tea would be great.”
“I think Ms. Patti left a pitcher of sweet tea in the fridge.”
Destiny grinned. “Sweet tea. It’s a southern thing. I’d never heard of it before I moved to Texas. Now I’m addicted to the stuff, though my hips aren’t too happy with me.”
“I’ve had it all my life, but then I’m from Charlotte. It’s normal there.”
“California.”
Camilla poured two glasses of sweet tea and gestured toward the kitchen table. Destiny looped her messenger bag over the back of the chair and sat, taking a long drink of the tea.
“Thanks, I needed that. I’ve been up most of the night, working on deciphering your phone.”
“Care to give me a hint what you found? I know you want to wait until Heath gets here, but the suspense is killing me.”
“I noticed you’ve got a ton of photos on there. Buildings, places, people. Good thing you’ve got a lot of memory.”
Camilla nodded as Destiny spoke. “That’s true. I’m a writer, so I’m constantly looking for things that fit the book I’m writing or for future books. It might be a corner of a building or a sign. Maybe a fountain. Or a person, who fits the image of somebody in the story.” She stopped for a moment, remembering New Orleans. “That’s how my phone got confiscated in the first place. We’d gone out to dinner in New Orleans, and I’d never been there. I turned on the phone and started snapping pictures. Heath nearly had a conniption fit when he saw what I’d done.”
“He’s right. GPS on phones can be tracked by almost anybody. Wives looking for cheating husbands. Businesses trailing their employees to make sure they’re on the job when they’re supposed to be. It’s as easy as downloading an app.”
Camilla stood and began pacing. She needed something to do, because she felt like she’d been confined in a box for weeks. Everybody and everything around her was guided by somebody else. Her memories still hadn’t returned, other than the little bits and pieces she’d garnered the day she, Nica, and Beth tried the meditation exercises. She wondered if she’d ever get them back.
“I’m sorry. Everything’s closing in around me and I feel like my life’s spinning out of control. I got shot. Almost attacked by a rattlesnake. Forced to leave my home and traipse halfway across the country because somebody decided my life didn’t matter. I have a gap in my memory because of this stupid amnesia, and I want this over. I want to know who’s playing with my life like a bloody puppet master, pulling the strings and making me dance to his tune. I hate this. I want my life back.”
“You’ll get it back, Cam. I promise.”
She spun around at the sound of Heath’s voice, her hand on her chest. “Heath, you scared me.”
“Sorry, darlin’.” He walked into the kitchen and held out his hand. “You must be Destiny.”
“I am. Nice to meet you, Mr. Boudreau.”
“Make it Heath.” He went to Camilla, wrapping his arms around her from behind and pulling her close against his chest. Closing her eyes, she leaned against him, feeling the comfort and warmth exuding from him.
“I was telling Camilla I downloaded the contents of her phone onto my computer, and I’ve combed through everything. Checked all her incoming and outgoing calls. Text messages. Apps. Photos. Everything on that phone’s been gone over with a fine-tooth comb.”
“And?”
“I found something unexpected.” Destiny pulled her messenger bag onto her lap and pulled out her computer, placing it on the kitchen table. “I might be totally out in left field with this, you know?”
“Whatever it is, I need to know. I can’t imagine what might be on my phone that would lead somebody to try and kill me, so anything you’ve found might give me a clue to figuring it out.”
Heath’s phone rang, and he reached into his pocket, and stared at the caller ID. “Sorry, I’ve got to take this.” He glanced at Camilla, and added, “It’s Gator.”
A tingle of excitement raced through her at Gator’s name. From everything she’d heard about the man since getting to Shiloh Springs, she’d convinced herself that he’d be the one to find answers. Maybe…maybe he’d solved the mystery of her shooter.
“Go ahead. Put it on speaker.”
Heath shot a glance at Destiny, who shrugged. “I can leave the room.”
“No, it’s okay. You’re working the case, you might as well hear.” He swiped to answer. “Hey, Uncle Gator.”
“Boy, don’t you ever answer your phone?” Gator’s Cajun accent came through loud and clear.
“Sorry, I was questioning some folks from Louisiana, following up on a lead. Unfortunately, it didn’t pan out.”
“I e-mailed you something. Want you and Camilla to take a good look at it. I have the feeling this is the final piece of the puzzle, and I’ll explain everything after you’ve seen the photos. Call me back.”
The line went dead. Camilla’s eyes met Heath’s, and he shrugged. “He’s not much for small talk.”
“You want to look at his stuff first, or do you want to see what I found?”
“Let’s do both. You show Camilla what you found and I’m going to check Gator’s e-mail. See what he sent. Maybe we’ll compare notes.”
“Works for me.” Destiny hooked her ankle around the empty chair and pulled it closer, motioning Camilla to sit. Within seconds, she was typing on the laptop, and Camilla blinked at the speed of her flying fingers. Personally, she typed about a hundred words a minute, but Destiny? The woman’s hands flew across the keyboard, only pausing long enough to manipulate the mouse.
“Alright. I went through the photos on your phone. Probably ninety to ninety-five percent of them were places and stuff. Honestly, there wasn’t much there that grabbed my attention, so I figured I’d look at the ones that had people in them. Basically, places and things are static, stationary. They don’t change much. People on the other hand, they are fluid. They constantly change. Gain weight, lose weight. Change the color of their hair. Grow facial hair or shave it all off. Now, taking into account you aren’t a paparazzi taking pics of celebrities or famous people, I played a hunch.”
“What kind of hunch?”
Destiny pulled up a screen showing about two dozen thumbnail-sized photos Camilla recognized. Some were of Beth, Jamie, and Tessa. One of Nica and Ms. Patti. There were also her parents and a single photo of her brother, Evan. She’d forgotten that one. Another couple of shots were of her neighbors and the maintenance man who cared for the yard around her townhouse. A couple were of a woman she’d spotted who resembled the heroine from her last book, and she’d asked if she could take the pics. One little boy she’d seen at the local ice cream parlor who had the cutest chocolate mustache. There was even a shot of her neighbor’s dog, who’d been doing a dance and standing on his back legs. It had been adorable, and she’d snuck the picture when Mr. Davis wasn’t looking.
“I ran the faces through a facial recognition program I use for my investigative work. Buddy of mine developed it a few years back, and I helped do some tweaking on it. The program’s good enough the government uses it. It’s precise, far better than most of them out there.”
Camilla felt ready to explode. Destiny kept droning on and on when all she wanted was answers.
“Destiny, what did you find?” Her frustration must have bled into her voice, because the other woman winced slightly.
“Sorry. I tend to get carried away with the minutia and forget others couldn’t care less about how I found something. They want answers.” She brushed her dark hair behind one ear, and then pointed to the picture of Mr. Davis’ puppy.
“That’s Oscar. Yeah, I know, not an original name, but my neighbor’s not really creative.”
“Your neighbor?” Destiny choked on the words, then took a long swallow of her tea.
“Yes, Mr. Davis. Oscar’s his Yorkie. I always stop and give him a scratch when he’s outside and I’m checking the mail. Why?”
“How much do you know about your neighbor?”
The bottom dropped out of Camilla’s stomach. He’d moved into the townhouse beside hers about six months earlier. Mostly kept to himself, other than the occasional hello when they passed on the way out. Thinking about it, when he’d caught up with her leaving the hospital was probably the longest conversation they’d had.
“I need to know the answer to that question too, Cam.” Heath walked back into the kitchen, his eyes wide, his skin a little pale.
“Okay, what’s going on? Why are you asking about Mr. Davis?”
Heath met Destiny’s eyes, and she shrugged and pointed to the picture of Davis and his dog. His face was mostly in profile, but enough showed he was clearly identifiable.
“Mr. Davis? What can you tell me about him?”
“Not a lot to tell.” Camilla shrugged and stared at the photo. “He moved next door about six months ago. Nice enough, though we’re not chummy. I’ve probably spent more time with his dog than with him, to be honest. Why?”
“I don’t know about the name Davis, but my facial recognition identified him as Johnny Grimaldi.” Destiny hesitated a beat or two, and Camilla had the feeling she was waiting for Camilla to recognize the name or something. Too bad, because it didn’t ring any bells.
“Sorry, the name means nothing to me.”
“You’ve never heard of Johnny ‘The Chain’ Grimaldi? Capo of the Grimaldi crime family? Girl, don’t you read the news? The man’s been all over the papers in the last year. The feds have been looking for him on charges of extortion, racketeering, and he’s suspected of half a dozen murders in New Jersey and Pennsylvania.” She tapped the picture on the screen. “Of course, this man doesn’t resemble the news photos. Hair’s been dyed gray. The mustache and beard are new, too. He also looks about twenty years older than his mid-forties, which is his actual age. Wonder if he’s using makeup to age his features. The cane’s a nice touch too, because he’s known to have taken a bullet to the knee. Allegedly the slug’s still in there.”
“Your program must be wrong. I mean, you can’t even see his face. Mr. Davis is a nice old man. Doesn’t have any family—”
She broke off at Destiny’s snicker. “He’s got family alright. He’s connected to one of the biggest Mafioso families on the Eastern seaboard. This guy is on every government agency watchlist. Catching him would be a coup for whichever one manages to capture him. Nobody would except him to be holed up in a townhouse in North Carolina.”
“Cam, she’s right.”
Camilla turned her gaze to Heath’s, her mind whizzing in a thousand directions. None of this made sense. How was it possible her next-door neighbor wasn’t the kindly old man she knew? A monster, connected to the mob, and worst of all—a killer?
“Let’s say Mr. Davis is who you say, this Johnny ‘The Chain’ Grimaldi. Why would he want to kill me? It doesn’t make any sense.”
“Gator’s been watching him for the last couple of days. He’s been investigating the complex, and he staked out your place. He did a thorough sweep of your townhouse and found signs somebody’d been there after we left. Place had been trashed. Decided he’d keep an eye on the townhouse, see if somebody came back. The minute he spotted your neighbor, William Davis, alarm bells went off in his brain.”
“Who’s Gator?” Camilla started at Destiny’s voice. She’d almost forgotten the other woman was in the room, focused on Heath’s intense stare.
“Gator Boudreau, my uncle. He does some private investigative work.” Heath grinned, and continued, “I can neither confirm nor deny that he’s former military intelligence and has worked for The Agency.”
Destiny’s eyes widened at his words. “Oooh, he’s a spook? That’s so cool.” Camilla could almost hear the wheels turning in her brain. “Do you think I could meet him?”
Heath’s laugh was infectious, and Camilla found herself joining in. “Stick around the Boudreaus long enough, you’ll get the chance. He and his family have a standing invitation to Thanksgiving and Christmas.”
“Awesome.” The light in Destiny’s eyes gleamed like a zealot viewing their messiah.
“Guys, can we get back to my neighbor?”
Heath squatted down beside Camilla, taking her hands between his. “Cam, darlin’, when did you take his picture?”
She struggled to remember when the photo was taken. Remembered it had been on a Saturday, because she’d been coming home from her grocery run, and had her takeout lunch in one hand and her phone in the other, reading a text message from her mother. Oscar raced up to the fence as she walked past, barking and jumping at Camilla, and Mr. Davis had limped forward toward the gate, trying to bribe him with a treat, while Oscar danced on his back legs. The moment’s sweetness had her snapping the picture on impulse.
“The photo’s metadata shows it was taken at 12:42 on Saturday, October fourth.”
“Did Davis know you took the picture, Cam?”
She shook her head vehemently. “No. I started to show him, because Oscar looked cute, and I thought he might like a copy. Then I remembered when I’d taken his picture once before, he made me delete it. Said something about hating to have his photo taken, so I didn’t mention it.”
“Makes sense. Nobody’s seen or heard a peep about Grimaldi for almost ten months. He disappeared without a trace.”
“Probably because he disappeared with a fortune in diamonds. Scuttlebutt has it he planned to skip the country, using the stones to have a cushy lifestyle in a nonextradition country. I can’t figure out why he’s still in the U.S. Not with the government searching high and low for him, not to mention the Family. They aren’t happy he skipped with millions of dollars of their money, which he allegedly converted into the diamonds I mentioned.” Reaching up, he gently pushed a lock of hair behind her ear, a curiously gentle smile on his face. “I’m not sure how, but he must’ve somehow figured out you’d took the picture.”
Heath stood and ran a hand through his hair, leaving it mussed, and Camilla bit back her smile. Even with the seriousness of the situation, she couldn’t help thinking he looked adorable.
“Bet he wanted to get his hands on your phone. That’d be the only way to be sure the photo wasn’t made public. Steal your phone, delete it from the cloud and from the physical device. And your computer. Ta da, the evidence is gone. Oh, boy. I told you, girlfriend. Shock and awe!” Destiny grinned and closed her laptop. “I love my job.”
“But it’s only one picture and it’s not even showing his whole face. It’s hard to say with one hundred percent certainty it’s this mobster.”
“Not anymore.” Heath handed his phone to Camilla, and she saw a full-faced photo of William Davis. “Gator took several and e-mailed them to me. He’s sure it’s Grimaldi, even with the changes in his appearance.”
She scrolled through the photos Gator sent, staring at the face of the man she thought she knew. He was good, she had to admit. She’d never suspected he wasn’t exactly who he’d claimed to be, a retired insurance salesman who wanted to live out his golden years in peace and quiet. What a crock!
“He shot me?”
“Gator suspects Grimaldi simply wanted to get access to your phone. Using a gun isn’t his usual M.O. Probably expected to use the chaos and confusion of the police and ambulance dealing with the scene. Nobody would notice if he picked up your phone and pocketed it. And if they did, he could simply say he was being neighborly and taking care of it for you. It’s actually not a bad scenario.”
Camilla raised her hand to stop him. “But he didn’t have my phone.”
“Something must have happened, and he wasn’t able to get it. Maybe the cops or an EMT picked it up. It was with your stuff at the hospital.” Heath cupped her cheek, his thumb brushing against her skin in a soft caress.
“I wonder if that’s why he came to see me at the hospital?”
“What?” Heath’s eyes narrowed, his gaze accusatory. “You never mentioned he came to see you.”
“Honestly, with everything going on, I forgot. I ran into him in the lobby when you went to get the car. We talked for a few minutes. I haven’t seen him since.”
“Well, folks, as fascinating as this is, I think you’ve got a lot to talk about, so I’m gonna hit the bricks. Heath, can you e-mail me a copy of the photos Gator sent you? Might be best to have a backup nobody knows about. Just in case, you know?”
“Good idea. Thanks for all your help, Destiny.”
“Looks like you’d have figured it out without me, but I’ve got to admit, it’s been a blast. I’ve never got to dig into a serial killer before, much less somebody like The Chain.”
“Alright, I’m dying to know. Why do they call him The Chain?” Camilla’s gaze darted between Destiny and Heath, wondering if either one of them would answer her question. Heath wanted to keep her wrapped in cottonwool, and she was tired of being treated like she only had half a brain. She’d have to remind him she wasn’t meek or weak.
“Johnny Grimaldi’s signature killing style is to strangle his victims. Then he wraps a gold chain about their throat. It’s kind of his trademark.” Destiny glanced at Heath, as if asking permission to say more.
“Don’t look at him, he doesn’t answer for me.” Camilla’s voice hardened, and she spat out, “Tell me.”
Destiny took a deep breath, like she was bracing herself to impart bad news. “The Chain’s victims have all been women. Usually former lovers or women who’ve betrayed him.” She paused and Camilla read between the lines what she wasn’t saying.
“He’ll consider my taking his picture a betrayal.” A shudder wracked her body, and she swallowed the bile that rose to the back of her throat. “That’s why he wants me dead.”
“Sorry, but yeah, that’s what I’m thinking.” Destiny glanced at Heath again. “If I were you, I’d set up extra surveillance on Camilla.”
“Already got it covered.”
“I’m out of here. Call me if you need anything.”
After she left, Heath slid onto the chair beside Camilla and tilted her face up, brushing a soft kiss against her lips. She responded, letting the sweetness of his kiss wash over her, obliterating the awful truth she’d just heard.
Slowly breaking the kiss, she studied his face, reading the steadfastness and determination in his tense jaw and steely eyes. With everything she now knew, it was time to stop running and take the fight home. Taking a deep breath, she spoke.
“Looks like things aren’t over yet. But I’ve got a plan.”