Chapter 20
Karl
Ted slept in my bed.
No, we hadn’t crossed that line yet. He was simply exhausted by what I perceived as Josh’s power play—Camille’s abduction.
He compounded the cruelty by setting up the fake meet we’d just been to a couple hours ago.
We’d returned to my place drenched to our bones, shivering and miserable.
I ran a hot shower for Ted and nudged him toward the bathroom.
He was practically asleep on his feet. When he emerged fifteen minutes later, a towel around his waist and hair tousled and damp, I was so overcome with both love and lust that I almost went against my own instincts of propriety and caring and made a move on him.
It would have been so easy to draw him toward me—with a flick of a finger or two, I could cause that towel to drop to the floor. And then, I’d lead him to my bedroom…
But no. The man was traumatized, aching, at a loss, guilty for what he believed was the part he’d played in Camille going missing. What kind of monster would I be if I tried to manipulate him? Attempted to capitalize on his vulnerability? I am not that guy.
My arousal at him being close and almost naked was natural. Taking advantage of him at this point would be unnatural—and cruel. I hold myself to a more ethical standard. If we survived this, there would be plenty of time for more joyous encounters.
I did lead him to the bedroom, though. I tucked him in, glad I’d made up the bed only yesterday with flannel sheets and a soft and worn quilt my grandmother had made some fifty years ago. It was tattered and faded, but felt like love to me.
I paused at the door, my hand on the light switch, to look back at him. “Sleep now. You’re all emptied out and I’m sorry to say that, in the state you’re in, you’re no help to anyone, Rest. And when you wake, I’ll make you a plate of my soft scrambled eggs and a cup of tea.”
He smiled and I was glad to see his eyelids already fluttering.
I moved to my home office, a converted sun room off the living room.
It was chilly, but the cold invigorated me.
Outside the windows all around, the sky had gone dark, black, starless.
The only illumination was the slight orange-ish color near the horizon, from noise pollution.
I pressed my forehead against the glass, thinking he was out there somewhere—the man who murdered my brother, the man who had Ted’s best friend held captive, the man who might remove the man I was falling in love with from this world before I’d even had a chance to let him know how I felt about him.
Should I change that? Was the notion selfish? Should I wait? None of us knows what the future holds. Josh could take him away tonight or tomorrow. And Ted would never know your true feelings.
I moved toward the bedroom, realizing we’re all living on borrowed time.
No.
Stop.
Let the poor guy sleep.
But do tell him when he wakes.
I turned back to retreat into my office. I sat down at my desk, switched on the lamp to banish the darkness outside—and in my mind.
I could always work on my podcast. I could always do a good thing.
I powered up Garage Band on my iMac and pulled my microphone toward me. I did a quick levels check and adjustment and began, off the cuff, from the heart.
“Camille D’Amico is fifty-seven years old. She’s a good woman, a funny one, kind, and a bit of a cynic. She’s a good friend to most everyone she knows. A protector and compassionate defender. A mother.
“And she’s missing.
“I have good reason to believe she was abducted by the man who may have murdered my brother, Joshua Kade.”
There was a stirring behind me. I looked up at the dark glass above the computer. Ted was reflected there, standing between the open French doors.
I shut off my mic and swiveled.
He wore a pair of my old sweatpants and nothing else. He couldn’t have looked more tempting. “I’m sorry. Did I wake you?”
He shook his head and moved toward me. He leaned down to wrap his arms around me from behind. “I heard you.” His voice was gravelly with sleep and as yet unbanished fatigue. But it also had a warmth in it I’m not sure I’d heard before. It set off quiet alarms in my heart—good ones.
I wanted this quiet, simple moment to last forever.
I would have settled for even a few more seconds, but then my phone rang. I picked it up from the glass surface of my desk and glanced down at its screen.
UNKNOWN CALLER.
Under normal circumstances, I’d consider this a telemarketer and let the call go to voice mail. But we were not living under normal circumstances, so I pressed the green phone icon to answer.
A very deep, artificial-sounding voice came through the line.
I had enough experience with voice-altering technology to know when one was in use.
This one sounded like Darth Vader. “Tell Ted Camille’s dead.
She died in pain, crying out his name.” The person paused, breath a little heavier.
“And you’re next, Karl. I should have gotten rid of you when I got rid of your lousy, drug-addled whore of a brother. ”
Before I could form a response, the line went dead.
I was too stunned to do anything for at least a minute or two. Then I glanced up at Ted, wondering if he could hear the words that had just shocked me to my core and ascertained he hadn’t. His expression was merely curious, not filled with horror.
And then I called the number back.
But it just rang and rang…endlessly.
I hung up and looked again at Ted. How could I tell him?