Chapter 18
Eighteen
Nic sat at the table in Cam and Jamie’s suite, dress sleeves rolled up, going over again the documents in the rainbow-colored file folders and on the poster sheets hanging on the wall.
Real estate for additional notes on the latter had become sparse, three different sets of handwriting adding bits and pieces as connections and observations struck.
But for all their efforts, as the sun rose on Thursday morning, they were still no closer to finding Shannon or Erin. And the sleeping man on the couch was near to breaking, no matter how tightly Nic held on to the rope.
There was a click across the room, and Jamie’s bedroom door swung open.
Spying Nic, he started to say something, but Nic held a finger to his lips, shushing him. He nodded at Cam asleep on the sofa, and Jamie smiled, keeping quiet as he made his way to Nic. “How long’s he been out?”
Nic checked the phone Cam had left on the table. “Couple of hours.”
Jamie, in sweats and a T-shirt, slid onto the stool beside him, looking him up and down.
Nic knew what he was seeing. Same dress slacks from last night, wrinkled.
Same dress shirt as well, likewise wrinkled.
Scruff filling in as he approached three days without a shave.
Not his usual look. “No, I haven’t slept any,” he answered before Jamie could ask.
“And I already got the lecture from your husband”—he waved a hand—“so just no.”
Jamie chuckled until his smile turned contemplative. “I heard what you said last night at the hospital.”
“Walker.”
“We’ve been telling you for months that you’re family. Glad you’re starting to believe us.”
Nic rested his forearms on the table, gaze aimed out the window at the rising sun over the water. “Like I told Keith, I didn’t exactly have a functional one growing up. It’s hard to know what to do with one now.”
“You think we’re functional?” He slapped a hand over his mouth, trying and failing to contain his laughter. “Pssh.”
Nic couldn’t hold back his own laugh.
Seemed Jamie couldn’t hold back his coaching-moment either. “You protect, Price. You’ve been doing that for our family for a while now, and you’re doing it for Cam’s now, even if they don’t fully appreciate it.”
He gestured at the folders and documents on the table. “I wish I could do more, somehow mold this into a case, but we have so little to go on.”
“Or maybe not,” Jamie said, eyes locked on the sheet of paper Nic had clipped to one of the folders. “What’s this?” he asked.
Cam’s torso popped up, hanging over the back of the couch. “What’s what?”
“Sorry,” Jamie said. “Didn’t mean to wake you.”
“How long have I been out?”
“Just a couple hours,” Nic replied. “You needed it.”
Standing, Cam ran a hand through his hair, making it a bigger mess than it was already. “What were you asking about?” he said, coming to stand beside Nic.
“The list Becca made.” Nic nudged the paper toward him. “Names from the crew she used to run with here after she left home.”
Cam tapped at the third name down. “This one looks familiar. I’ve seen it. I’m just not sure where.”
“Laptop’s in my room.” Jamie stood and grabbed the list. “I’m gonna go run these again.”
“And I’m going to make coffee. Maybe it’ll jog the memory.” Cam glided a hand over Nic’s shoulders as he crossed behind him. The casual touch felt good, right again after not having the closeness when they’d needed it most.
Nic wanted more of it and with Jamie out of the room .
. . Though hadn’t Cam wanted to tell their friends about them, if not his family?
And hadn’t Nic effectively shown his hand to Jamie the night Bobby had called about Edith?
Or last night in the van? At the hospital?
No way the former investigator hadn’t figured it out.
Nic was tired of hiding if he didn’t have to, especially when Cam needed every bit of support he could offer.
He slid off his stool and followed him into the kitchenette. “How you feeling?”
Cam popped in a single-serve capsule, locked down the lid, and hit the Start button. Coffee brewing, he rotated and rested back against the counter. Nic was sure he was going to tell him to piss off. “I feel like this might just be the second worst week of my life,” he admitted instead.
Nic didn’t need to ask which week was Cam’s worst. It was the very reason they were here, buried in old case files that led nowhere.
Stretching out an arm, he circled Cam’s shoulders and tugged him into his body.
He was stiff at first but then relaxed into the hold.
Nic dropped a kiss on his head. “We’re going to solve it. ”
Relaxation vanished, however, when Cam’s phone vibrated on the table.
Stiff as a board one second, darting over to the table the next, Cam either didn’t notice Jamie standing in his bedroom doorway or didn’t care that his best friend had seen them embracing.
Nic hoped the latter, that he’d made the right call.
Jamie’s slight nod to him said as much, but Cam didn’t notice their exchange, reading a text on his phone instead.
“It’s Di,” he told them. “She said to call in.”
“So call in.” Jamie crossed the room, setting his laptop on the table, while Nic moved to stand beside Cam.
Di answered Cam’s call right away. “Morning, sugar.”
“Need a good one, Di. Tell me what you’ve got.”
“A burner phone just like the one Officer Murphy received. Only this one was dropped off at the station with your name on it.”
“My name?” He stumbled back into Nic’s waiting hand.
“A copy of your South Boston library card was attached.”
A stunned shockwave rolled through him—Nic felt it in his hand—but then his spine straightened with determination. “We’ll be there in twenty,” Cam told her and hung up.
Nic’s gaze shot over to the timeline of Erin’s case. “That’s the same library Erin was at the day she disappeared.”
Cam nodded. “And I haven’t set foot in that library since. This has to mean something. The cases have to be connected.”
The station was bustling, triple the usual force crowding the bullpen, as Di’s team waited with the D-4 cops and Matt’s agents for a joint task force briefing.
No arguing, as far as Cam could see, which was a good sign.
With a cop’s kid on the line, everyone seemed to understand they were on the same team.
Well, everyone except Murphy and Smith, who’d wasted a day trying to handle this themselves.
But he and Nic had brought them in line, and with the truth about his sister possibly on the line too, Cam needed everyone on the same page, now more than ever.
Spotting them, Di broke off her conversation with Matt and met them at the front counter. “You look like hell,” she said to Cam.
“Love you too, sweetheart,” he teased back with a smile.
Shifting from worried to mama-bear protective, she glared at Nic and Jamie. “You two were supposed to take care of him.”
“Don’t blame them, Di. With everything yesterday and then Ma taking a turn for the worse last night, it was hard getting much sleep.”
“She gonna pull through?”
He swallowed hard, forcing out the truth. “I’m not as sure as I was earlier in the week.”
“Oh, sugar.”
“Need to keep busy,” he said, shaking off the threatening break. “And we need to find Shannon.”
Di followed his lead. “We’re all set up in the big briefing room. Just need to usher everyone back there.”
“I’d like to listen to the message first, without an audience.”
“I’ve got the phone in my office.” She led them around the outside of the bullpen to her office.
Cam followed her in, Nic and Jamie on his heels, which almost caused a four-body pile-up when Di suddenly hit the brakes.
“What’s wrong?” Cam asked.
She tilted her head, eyeing her desk. “I had the phone right here.”
She went one direction, Cam the other, searching all around the desk. She opened and closed drawers, Cam got on his hands and knees and peered under it, and Nic and Jamie were scouring the rest of the office.
They all came up empty-handed. “It’s gone,” Cam said.
“That’s impossible.” Brow knitted, Di marched to the door. “Hey, Owens,” she called to the uniform at the desk right outside her office. “There was an evidence bag on my desk. Did you see anyone take it?”
“Smith from South End. Said you wanted it for the briefing.” Murphy’s captain.
“Fuck!” Cam shot past Di into the bullpen. No Smith or Murphy there. He hung a right and sprinted down the hall to the briefing room.
Just some other D-4 officers lingering around, waiting to get started. “Where’s Smith?” Cam demanded.
“On his way here,” one replied right away. “He’s bringing Murphy from the hospital.”
He reversed course, hightailing it to surveillance, where Di was already directing the duty officer to pull up the security footage. As Owens said, Smith approached Di’s office, told him that he was taking the phone to the briefing, then walked right past the briefing room and out the back door.
“You got outside cameras?” Nic asked.
A couple clicks later, a view of the back door and lot appeared on-screen.
The duty officer rewound the tape, and sure enough, Smith snuck out and into a cruiser with Murphy, who was identifiable by the stabilizing sling around his arm. Once they hit the street, they turned on the lights and sirens and sped away.
“They’re trying to handle it themselves,” Di said.
“How long ago was this?” Jamie asked.
The duty officer toggled down, popping up the time stamp. “Ten minutes.”
“Fuck!” Cam just stopped himself from ramming a fist into the wall, frustration and lack of sleep almost getting the better of him.
Nic moved to contain him, and Cam’s gaze snapped to his.
He was causing a scene but better here than out in the bullpen.
He needed to rail, and Nic, seeming to understand, nodded, making himself the target.
“My name was on the fucking phone!” Cam shouted.
“That was our best shot at finding Shannon.” And it might have been his only shot at finding his sister.
“We can ping the GPS on the cruiser,” Di said.
Jamie slid into the chair next to the duty officer, opening his laptop. “Did your techs make a recording of what was on the phone?” The officer nodded. “Drop it to me. I’ll be on your network in less than a minute.”
“How?”
“Don’t ask,” Nic said, then to Cam, “Better?”
“Depends what’s on that recording.”
“Boston.”
Cam took a deep breath, forcing himself calm. “I’m good. Thank you.” Nic stepped aside, and Cam moved behind Jamie, telling him to hit Play when a voicemail window popped up.
“Hey, Twenty-four, I got something you want. Let’s make a deal. Meet—” The recording cut out, fading into static.
“Fucking hell!” Cam roared.
Before he could grab something to throw or ball his fists, Nic clasped his biceps from behind. “Breathe, Boston.”
He vibrated in the other man’s hold. “He knows me.”
Jamie twisted in his chair. “The nickname?”
“My jersey number in high school.”
“If you wore it at BC too . . .” Nic said, but Cam was already shaking his head.
Jamie answered for him. “He wore twelve at BC, same as me at Carolina.”
“You recognize the voice?” Nic asked, still holding him, only lighter now.
He was the only thing keeping Cam grounded. Keeping him from flying off in a million directions. “No, but it was a big fucking high school.”
“Can you—” Nic started.
“School rosters, got it,” Jamie said before he even finished, whipping back around, fingers flying over his keyboard.
“You can search back that far?” the tech asked.
“Don’t ask those questions,” Jamie said, at the same time Cam snapped, “I’m not that old.”
Jamie lifted his fingers off the keys a minute later. “That’s why you recognized the name.”
“The name from Becca’s list?” Cam and Nic asked together.
“Yep.” Jamie highlighted a name on the screen. “Reid Porter. He went to your high school.”