Chapter 11
Eleven
Jamie’s rainbow-colored file folders had seemed like a good idea when Cam first returned from the hospital.
Cases had been color-coded by district, then organized by year and status.
Everything else in the hotel suite’s shared living area had been a disaster—soda cans, Kit Kat wrappers, and scribbled-on notepads covered every surface—but the facts he’d needed were at his fingertips.
Hours later, sitting on the hotel room floor surrounded by his own all-nighter detritus, the bright folders were more frustrating than anything.
A reorganization of facts he’d been through a time or twenty before.
Add to that the other loop running in his head, replaying over his talk with Bobby and his call with Nic, and it had all become a headache-inducing blur.
Resting back against the couch, he laid his head on the cushions and closed his eyes.
When he opened them again, it was to a rumpled Jamie in team sweats and an FBI tee standing over him. “Did you sleep?”
“I wasn’t sleeping.”
“Your snoring woke me up.”
Cam righted himself and sure enough, it was at least an hour brighter in the room. “Okay, so maybe I slept a little.”
“I think you need to sleep some more.”
Cam waved him off, then waved at the folders. “Thanks for putting some order to this.”
Jamie sat on the couch next to his shoulder. “I see you’ve put more order to them.”
“Gut instinct, basically.” He pointed to the pile on the left. “Possibly related.” Then to the pile on the right. “Not likely related.” Unfortunately, the new names on his mother’s list had all fallen in the not-likely-related column.
“What are the possibly related factors?” Jamie asked.
“Age, description, neighborhood, and other similarities. The same thing that tagged them as related before.”
Jamie dropped onto the floor next to him and drew the possibly related stack closer. “Setting aside the first three, which I get, what other similarities?”
Cam opened the first folder and handed it to Jamie.
“Brandi Maynard, abducted on the way home from the library.” He picked up the next two.
“Two girls from the same middle school but not Erin’s.
” The three after that were the same socioeconomic status as their family, blue-collar working class.
The next had left behind a gemstone necklace—not a topaz like Erin’s but a ruby.
Jamie flipped through the folders, then set them aside. His baby blues were skeptical when he looked back over at Cam. “Those are rather disparate.”
“Which is why age and description are the better bet, plus one.” He took the folders back, tossed out two and added three more from the possibly related stack.
“Eight disappearances over the past twenty years where the victim is between twelve and fourteen, with dark hair and dark eyes, from large families that are barely scraping by.”
Jamie nodded. “Same as Erin.”
“Eight cold cases spread over two decades. We could never tie them all together. Hell, two had brothers who also went missing.”
“So the girls were deemed runaways too.”
Cam nodded, scrubbing a hand over his beard. Then voiced what he must. “All of which assumes Erin wasn’t a runaway too.”
Jamie shifted, drawing up a knee and angling toward him, elbow propped on the couch. “Do you really think that about your sister?”
God, he wished he did. As terrible as it would be to learn his sister had voluntarily left, had turned her back on her family and stayed away for two decades, it would be better than learning for certain she was dead.
But the latter was far easier to believe.
Things had not been easy for their family back then—Dad always out on the boat, then stressed over managing the other boats when he expanded, Mom running a tight ship on a tight budget at home—but Erin was their princess, worshiped and adored by her parents and brothers.
She’d never wanted for anything, except the one day she’d wanted Cam to pick her up and he’d been selfish instead. “No,” he croaked hoarsely.
Jamie rubbed a hand over his shoulders, soothing, while he recited back the pertinent case details, giving Cam something else to focus on. “So then we assume she was taken because she fit a profile the kidnapper targeted.”
“Is still targeting,” Cam said, making a connection he hadn’t considered until they’d laid it all out. It was right there in front of him. A case that wasn’t cold. He shot to his feet and grabbed his laptop, heading for the table.
“What’ve you got?” Jamie asked, following him.
Brushing aside Kit Kat wrappers, he made a place for the computer, opened a search window, and called up BPD’s roster. “Remember what Di said yesterday about the officer with the missing daughter?”
“You said you knew the family.”
Cam nodded. “I went to school with Randy, the oldest. This” —he opened an officer profile page—“is Officer William Murphy, whose daughter is missing.”
“Dark hair, dark eyes, daughter could be the right age if he married young.” Jamie yanked out his phone, tapping away at it, while Cam searched social media sites for Shannon Murphy.
“Yep,” Jamie said. “Per Social Security, he’s thirty-two, married at eighteen, and had Shannon when he was nineteen.”
“Making her thirteen.” Cam stood back from the screen, giving Jamie a view of Shannon’s online profile picture. She was a pretty girl, with big dark eyes, long brown hair, and a bright smile.
“She looks like her dad,” Jamie agreed.
Cam drew up another picture, one of his sister he had saved on his laptop. “And if you didn’t know better?” he asked Jamie.
“I’d say she could easily be mistaken as Erin’s sister.”
Nic waited in Cam’s office, looking at the framed pictures on his windowsill.
A basketball team photo from Boston College.
One with his family, all of them in ugly Christmas sweaters.
A photo of him and Jamie, arms slung over each other’s shoulders, on a fishing boat.
Cam was smiling wide while Jamie’s expression was somewhere between grin and grimace, face a sickly shade of green.
One of Cam, Danny, Jamie, and Aidan in their tuxes at the wedding.
Nic hadn’t been in the wedding party, but seeing that picture, he felt a certain sense of disappointment that he wasn’t in it. He’d been holding himself back from his newfound family and more than a little of him regretted it now.
But not the kiss that day. Nor any of the kisses since.
Every day he’d spent in San Diego, he’d missed Cam. This separation, however, was somehow worse. Even knowing what he did, that there were leaks in both their shops and that the safest course of action would be to stay apart, Nic wanted to be there for Cam, as a team member and more.
He’d have to settle for what he could do here.
At least Cam had asked for his help, which he was more than happy to give.
Grabbing the file he’d assembled off Cam’s desk, he made it as far as the door before his phone rang.
He retreated into the office, pulling out his cell and recognizing a DC-area number.
“Nic Price,” he answered.
“Hold for the Deputy Attorney General,” a woman said, and a moment later, the line clicked over. “Morning, Price,” the Deputy AG greeted. “Thanks for taking my call.”
“Of course.” Not that he’d been given a choice; the man was his ultimate boss, after all. One he actually liked, unlike his immediate supervisor. “What can I do for you, sir?”
“You can take the US Attorney position in San Diego permanently.”
Staggering, Nic reached out a hand to steady himself, narrowly avoiding Cam’s framed diploma on the wall. “I’m sorry, what was that?” he managed around the shock.
The Deputy AG chuckled. “I should be the one apologizing for that abrupt lead-in. I’ve been on the Hill all morning and have to go back this afternoon.”
“Then you’re the one in need of condolences.” He pushed off the wall and circled behind Cam’s desk, tossing the file on the blotter. “You caught me off guard is all. Daniels just got back.” Daniels had been the US Attorney he’d filled in for last month.
“He dropped the news today that he’s leaving year end for a private practice position.” The Deputy AG didn’t sound too surprised; it wasn’t an uncommon occurrence, more money and more flexibility in private practice. “Your name’s at the top of the replacement list.”
“I’m sure there are more qualified—”
“Beg to differ. You closed cases faster than Daniels, and they were cases the staff there wanted to work on. Three calls in with the SD AUSAs and all of them recommended you for the job. I’m sure the others will do the same.”
“I’m honored, sir.” Nic rested back against the edge of the desk, thumb drumming a steady beat against the wood.
He appreciated the admiration and respect of his colleagues—there really was no higher honor—and they’d been a good team there in San Diego.
But looking again at the pictures on the window ledge, he couldn’t deny he had a good team here too.
More than a team. Family.
He’d spent half his life a virtual nomad—going wherever the Navy sent him. His life was settled now, here, with Gravity, the family Aidan had somehow sucked him into, and Cam. But with homesickness growing louder in Cam’s voice each time they spoke, could Nic afford to ignore this offer?
Did he want to stay here if the most important part of his team—of his family—were to leave? And there was no denying everyone would be safer if Nic wasn’t here. He’d proved his point this summer and on his first night back with the fire.
“The confirmation hearings won’t be easy,” he said, reminded of the skeletons that would no doubt be shaken loose.
“Is that a yes, then?” the Deputy AG asked.
“It’s not a no,” Nic said, hedging. He needed time to think and to see how other things shook out. “Can you give me to the end of the week to decide?”
“By all means but the sooner we can strategize on the hearings the better.”