Chapter 12
Twelve
His phone on the table buzzed. Picking it up, he read the text from Nic. No luck with Becca.
“Shit, Becca’s a dead end.”
“Then we better pray this one isn’t,” Jamie said with a nod to the door.
Following his line of sight, Cam tracked a wrecked-looking Billy Murphy and his captain, Bo Smith, through the bullpen on their way to the conference room.
“You think they’ll play ball?” Jamie asked.
“If he loves his daughter, he will.” Cam stood, Jamie rising beside him, as Smith entered the room, Murphy on his heels.
The officer, however, stalled over the threshold. “Cap, I thought you said we could keep the feds out of this.”
“We’re here in an unofficial capacity,” Cam said.
“You’re Keith Byrne’s brother, right?” Murphy asked.
“That’s right,” Cam said. “He was a year behind you. I knew your brother Randy. I’m not going to do anything to hurt your family. I want to help.”
“Give ’em a chance, Billy,” Smith said. “Cam’s one of the best agents I’ve worked with. He’ll bring Shannon home.”
Cam fought back a retort. He hated making promises like that—after a decade of this work, he knew cases didn’t always end well—and the fact that Shannon was already missing over twenty-four hours wasn’t a good sign.
But he couldn’t say any of that without upsetting Murphy more and without jeopardizing his own case.
He gestured toward the table. “Hear us out, please.”
Murphy stepped the rest of the way inside, and Smith shut the door behind him as Jamie introduced himself.
Once they were all seated around the table, Cam started in easy, asking Murphy, “How long have you been on the force?”
The officer picked at the cuffs of his sleeves. “Just over two years.”
“Last case I had with you guys was, what?” he asked the captain. He knew the answer—he unfortunately never forgot a case—but that’s not what the question was about. He needed Murphy to see and believe the rapport Cam had with the department and with his captain.
“About three years ago,” Smith replied. “Nikka Wallace. Missing almost a week. You brought her home.”
“I can find Shannon myself,” Murphy said to Smith. “We can. We don’t need the feds.”
“The FBI has more resources,” Jamie countered.
Murphy’s dark gaze whipped back to them. “Thought you said you were here in an unofficial capacity.”
“Unofficial yes but not without resources.” Cam pulled the folder he’d laid in the middle of the table closer and withdrew the top picture. “This is my sister, Erin. She disappeared twenty years ago on her way home from the library. She was twelve.” He pushed the picture across the table to Murphy.
“I remember that,” he mumbled, drawing the photo closer. “She looks—”
“A lot like your daughter.” Cam spread the remaining photos on the table. “So do these other girls who have gone missing over the past twenty years.”
Murphy’s dark eyes widened. “But I thought—”
“Thought what?”
Jamie leaned forward, taking on the role of bad cop, though still soft playing it relatively. “There’s a reason you don’t want the feds involved, isn’t there?”
It was the perfect setup for Cam to swoop in and save the day. “Do you remember me and Bobby when we were teens?” He pointed at himself, smile self-deprecating. “Not exactly law-abiding citizens.”
Murphy hung his head, tugging at his sleeve again. “She’s into some shit. I thought that’s why . . .”
“It still may be,” Smith interjected. “But if it’s not, if it’s got something to do with these other disappearances, don’t you want the best helping us find her?”
“We can handle this delicately,” Cam said. “I’ve got skin in this game too. I want to find out what happened to my sister, and I want to help find your daughter.”
“But if there are charges against her. Or—”
He cut himself off, and Cam sensed there was a “me” about to follow. It wasn’t only Shannon who was into some shit. Shit that could very well be unconnected to Erin or the other disappearances, but it was the best lead they had. And a girl was missing regardless.
Cam needed his best people on it, needed a certain one here who’d handled a similarly delicate matter before.
Maybe Nic could maneuver the local federal prosecutors from San Francisco, but if Cam knew him, and he did by now, Nic wouldn’t abide sitting on the sidelines.
Cam had already asked that of him enough, and this was not a case where there was a threat to his life.
He’d want to be in the middle of this, helping.
He’d jumped at the chance to interview Becca and now here was a chance for him to be directly involved if Cam just asked.
Except every part of that ask was dangerous, especially the part that would bring Nic to Boston.
That would throw his family into further turmoil.
Because as untethered as he was beginning to feel, Cam would grab hold of Nic the second he walked through the door and not let go. A big part of him wanted Nic here. There’d be no hiding, assuming Nic didn’t turn his back when he found out Cam had been the one hiding all along.
But could Cam afford not to make the ask?
He was a kidnap-and-rescue agent. He had to use every lever he had at his disposal to rescue Shannon Murphy, even if throwing that lever turned his own world upside down.
And hell, he’d done that already, reopening his sister’s case.
If helping Shannon could lead to finding out what happened to Erin, didn’t he owe his mother and family that too?
“I need to make a call,” he said, pushing back from the table. “There may be someone who can help us.”
He slipped out of the conference room and into Di’s office, shutting the door behind him as he dialed Nic’s number.
“I’m sorry I didn’t have better news for you,” Nic answered after the first ring, jumping straight into conversation as was their way. As much as Cam loved hearing his voice, he hated hearing the disappointment in it.
“It was a long shot. Which was why we didn’t identify a lead there the first time. She was a runaway, plain and simple.”
“Still, I wish I could have helped you somehow.”
Cam slumped back against the door, loosening his tie and the words trapped in his throat. “There may be another way.”
“Anything, Boston.”
“A cop’s daughter has disappeared.”
“It’s connected to your sister’s case?”
“Maybe, but there are complications. The daughter’s into some shit. The dad too. That’s probably why she was taken—”
“Sounds like last spring,” Nic said, putting it together.
Now Cam just had to make the ask. “Which is why I’m calling you. I need you to work your legal magic.”
“That the only magic you need from me?”
Not by a long shot. He needed that magic voice live and in person, the magic taste that went along with it, and the very magic that somehow had made Nic the person who grounded him best. But with his family on edge already, Nic’s professional magic was all he could ask for.
“You’re the best federal prosecutor I know.” Cam took Nic’s silence for understanding, of all the things he’d said and not said. “I need the best on this case, Dominic.” Cam said what he could, urging Nic for this favor.
It was enough, thank God. “I’ll be there tomorrow.”
Nic slurped another spoonful of Mary’s homemade cioppino, cursing himself for staying away for so long.
He’d had his reasons for avoiding his childhood home—namely his father—but that had come at the price of missing Mary’s cooking.
The native San Franciscan was not easily outmatched in the kitchen.
He’d stayed in touch, visiting with her at least once a year, but these sorts of home-cooked meals were sorely missed.
As was the woman herself, the last of his father’s household staff.
She sat across from him, making sure he ate every bite.
Motherly as always. He’d only planned to swing by on his way to the airport to make sure Mary had all his contact numbers in case the worst of any variety should happen and to issue a behave warning to his father.
The last thing he needed was for his father to incite an incident with Vaughn while he was clear across the country.
But his father wasn’t home yet, and Mary had insisted on feeding him while he waited.
“Tell me about him.”
Nic almost sent a clam flying across the kitchen. “Him?” he said, bobbling the shell and dunking it back in the seafood stew.
“Whoever you’re flying off to Boston for.”
“It’s a case.” He pretended to focus all his attention on wrenching the morsel loose from its shell. Not on the excitement that was trilling through him at the certainty of seeing Cam again tomorrow.
He’d been disappointed to deliver bad news to Cam earlier, but that disappointment had vanished with the opportunity to help more tangibly and in person.
He’d jumped at the chance, even if there was still something niggling in the back of his mind.
Cam hadn’t let him be there for him personally, but he’d let him be there professionally.
Cam had been the one pushing for more and then he hadn’t.
Was he giving Nic the space he’d asked for?
Or was there another reason he hadn’t initially wanted Nic in Boston?
He hoped it wasn’t guilt or embarrassment that had made Cam push him away.
He had plenty of that of his own, and he’d bared those scars, memorialized in ink, to Cam.
He hadn’t told him the full story, but Cam knew he wasn’t perfect.
Nic didn’t expect him to be either. In fact, he craved those imperfections along with every other part of the man he—
He gulped down another spoonful of stew, forgetting to blow on it and scalding the roof of his mouth.
Mary snickered. “See, that’s what you get. Now, tell me about him.”
He looked into her knowing green eyes, which had always had the power to make him spill it, even as an adult it seemed. “He’s an FBI agent.”
“Ooh. Handsome?”