CHAPTER SEVEN
The long day had turned into a longer night.
Sunlight disappeared earlier and earlier.
The beautiful bright fall leaves had turned from their vivid yellows and reds to dreary, drab browns, as if the universe was in mourning.
The sun hid. The leaves started to drop.
Everywhere Amelia looked, life was moving on with a painful heaviness.
She’d spoken with Jonathan’s parents.
The plans for the funeral had been delayed—his body hadn’t been released from the medical examiner, and the Dumonts would be traveling from out of the country, but they had asked if she wanted to include a ceremony for Hailey during his funeral.
Amelia hadn’t been able to say anything except that missing didn’t mean dead.
They were kind and quiet, much like Jonathan.
His parents clearly loved Hailey too.
They all agreed the investigators were wrong about a domestic-dispute-turned-homicide.
Small miracles. She wouldn’t have been able to bear their judgement.
Still, she was depleted, mentally exhausted.
But for whatever reason, sleep was elusive.
She’d never had problems sleeping.
Now, every noise made her jump.
Her mind raced from question to question.
Memories replayed. Decisions were doubted.
Amelia glanced at the medicine bottles lined on her nightstand like little soldiers who promised sweet dreams: melatonin, allergy medicine, over-the-counter sleep aids.
It was a smorgasbord of medication that had raised the eyebrows of the clerk at the pharmacy’s checkout counter.
She hadn’t been able to decide which would be the best option to send her to dreamland and had bought everything.
“Sometimes, a nightcap works best,” the clerk had offered.
“I’ll put it on my list of things to try.”
He finished scanning her purchases with pity in his eyes.
The man had no idea how bad it really was.
She checked the time on her phone again.
A half hour should have gone by, but only three minutes had passed.
She still hadn’t decided which pills to take, so she took none and stared at the bottles in the dark.
“Eeny, meenie, miney, moe…” Sleeping pills scared her.
What if she took one and didn’t wake up when she needed to?
What if she’d taken one that night at Hailey and Jonathan’s?
Maybe she would be dead like her brother-in-law or missing like her sister.
Or maybe nothing would have happened because she’d have been in the house and scared away whoever attacked her family.
That was the least likely situation, but it wasn’t a zero percent chance.
Guilt squeezed her chest. A sleeping pill might knock her out, or, since they weren’t exactly potent pills, she’d be groggy and awake, wanting to sleep and worrying about when the sun would rise.
Instead of choosing which to take, Amelia grabbed her phone and redialed the number that would eventually reach Camden.
He answered on the first ring.
“Do you ever take a night off?” she asked.
The rich roll of his laughter sent an unexpected wave of warmth through her chest. “How’d you get this number?” he asked.
She rolled onto her side and fluffed the pillow under her cheek.
“What do you mean? I called the banana-light-bulb-chicken-heart number, and here you are.”
“You got me the first time?”
“Yeah.”
He laughed.
“You were routed to my cell phone.”
“What?” She sat up.
“What… How?”
“I don’t know. Do you have a pen handy?”
“Why?”
“Well, you might as well call me direct next time.”
The tension in her chest relaxed as she sank back onto her pillow.
A small, shy grin pulled at her cheeks.
“Text it to me.”
He confirmed that the number on his screen was hers and shot her a message.
“There.”
“You think I’m crazy for calling you, don’t you?” she asked.
“I think,” he said, his tone playful, “you’ve got a knack for keeping things interesting.”
The tips of her ears warmed.
“That’s a polite way of saying yes.”
“Do you think I’d give my number out to a crazy lady?”
Smiling, she hesitated.
“Maybe? You’re one of those sneaky agents that does secret things. So I don’t think giving your number to a crazy lady ranks high on your risk list.”
His easygoing laughter poured through the phone again.
“I’m not whoever you think I am.”
“You don’t wear nondescript suits and dark sunglasses, flashing your badge like some guy playing the part in a movie?”
“Not a chance, sweetheart, and if you want the truth, I don’t even have a badge.”
“You’re telling me I’ve been calling a pretend secret agent?” She laughed for the first time since the day everything went down.
It was so foreign to Amelia that it felt like she’d broken an unwritten rule.
“I’ve said nothing that would make you think I’m a secret agent.”
“You didn’t have to. The code words and special phone number gave you away. Not to mention the fact that you were totally chill while someone was hunting me down. And I’ve seen your coworkers. So—”
“Whoever you’ve met, they aren’t my teammates. That’s one thing you can take to the bank.”
“Teammates. That’s an interesting choice of words.”
“Maybe so…” He remained quiet, as though he’d wished he’d kept his mouth shut.
She hated that he might hang up.
“Now that you’ve said too much, do you have to go?”
“I didn’t, and I don’t.”
“All right…” She didn’t believe him.
Amelia shut her eyes.
She liked his voice: honey smooth and warmly rough, unwavering.
Even when the quiet hung between them, Camden didn’t act as though the silence was as unnerving as she found it to be.
“How many calls like mine do you get? There can’t be super-top-secret problems that often.”
“Honestly? You’re my first.”
“Huh… How come? Nothing ever goes wrong?”
“Not when I’m on duty,” he teased.
“Have you ever heard that correlation is not connected to causation?” She smiled at his quiet laughter.
“We—the company I work for—were helping a federal agency with a problem.”
“How did you manage to say all those words without saying a damn thing?”
“Just talented.”
She stared at the ceiling of her bedroom and wondered how the stars had aligned to connect them.
“I think Hailey and Jonathan worked for the government.”
Camden didn’t respond.
He didn’t ask why she thought that, and he didn’t dispel her of the notion.
Amelia cleared her throat and wished she could turn off her mind.
“The stuff on the news about them is made up. I can’t fathom how any reporter has been able to say things that never happened. They do so with such confidence, as if they were told lies from a reputable source.”
Camden hummed noncommittally.
For the first time, she was telling someone her perspective.
Thus far, every other conversation had been filled with condolences and mourning.
None were about the craziness of the situation.
She’d told no one what happened that night except for Camden, Bennett, and Fitzgerald, and she wasn’t sure why.
They hadn’t told her to keep her story to herself.
Maybe they didn’t have to because it sounded impossible.
“The agents who have stayed in contact with me are not normal.”
“What’s normal anyway?”
“You know what I mean. They talk in circles. They’re not regular cops. I think it’s something related to national security or spying.”
Camden hummed again.
She couldn’t believe she was saying her guesses out loud.
Even more crazily, she couldn’t believe he wasn’t calling her absurd.
“You’re not saying anything.”
“I think we both know that I can’t confirm or deny a damn thing. Even if I knew.”
“Which you don’t…” She didn’t entirely believe him, but he wasn’t hanging up or laughing at her guesses.
That was a kind of acknowledgment.
“Are you in a top-secret lair somewhere? A nuclear fallout shelter? A secret room in the basement of the US Capitol?”
“I could tell you, but then I’d have to kill you.”
“See, that’s not fair.” She chuckled.
“You probably know how to without leaving a trace.”
“All kidding aside, you doing okay, Amelia?”
A warm feeling swelled in her chest. It was almost enough to help her forget why she couldn’t fall asleep.
“You remember my name?”
“Well… yeah. Why would I give my number to someone if I didn’t know their name?”
“Is Camden your real name?”
“Yeah. Cam. Camden. Whichever works.”
She tried to imagine what he might look like: tall, broad, strong.
At least his confidence made him sound that way.
“That first night, you weren’t supposed to tell me your name, were you?”
“Not really. No.”
“Why did you?” she wondered aloud.
“You sounded scared.”
What did he imagine her to be like?
Feeble and afraid. Unable to help herself and begging someone on the phone to save her.
It wasn’t a great mental image.
Amelia bit her bottom lip.
“You weren’t wrong.”
Silence hung between them.
It wasn’t awkward—more like it was waiting for something else, but she didn’t know what.
“Why did you call me tonight?” he asked.
Maybe she’d been scared, but not in the same way as that night.
She was scared of the unknown, scared of the illogical.
“I couldn’t sleep. I can’t get my mind to stop racing. So much doesn’t make sense. Like the agents. The ones you don’t work with, I guess. The same ones I spoke with the first night. They came by.” Amelia rolled onto her back.
“They asked if I’d seen my sister.”
“If you’d seen your sister?”
“Yeah…”
“Huh. Seems like that’s something you would’ve mentioned to someone.”
“Exactly.”
“What else?” he asked.
“They stopped by unannounced. Their questions made me uneasy, as if they thought I wasn’t telling them a piece of important information. Then they just left. They didn’t get the answer they wanted, so poof, they walked out.”
He waited for a beat.
“That’s how it can be. They’re searching for your sister and don’t have time for pleasantries. I wouldn’t hold it against them.”
“Do you trust the people you work with?—I know, I know. You’re not one of the suits with dark glasses. But you’re in the same orbit, aren’t you? Do you trust them?”
He paused again long enough that she noticed her heartbeat thump with each passing moment.
“Of course.”
She didn’t believe him.
“Eh, the jury’s out on whether or not you’re telling me the truth.”
He laughed.
“Ouch.”
“So, you didn’t say. Do you work in a secret basement office in the Capitol?”
He kept laughing.
“No, why?”
“What about at the CIA? Or the FBI headquarters?” Those were in the DC area, weren’t they?
It seemed like he would be based nearby.
“You’re just going to throw out all the mysterious federal agencies you can think of, aren’t you?”
She snorted, but that might have been her plan.
“Has anyone ever told you that you’re an evasive answerer?”
“All part of my training,” he joked.
“Why don’t you get some sleep? If the agents stop by again, answer their questions, and try not to read too much into what they say or don’t.”
“Is that what you would do?” she asked.
“Probably. Yeah.”
“I don’t believe you.”
“Get some sleep, and take care of yourself, Amelia.”
She didn’t have a reason to keep him on the phone but didn’t want the call to end.
His voice was soothing and made her feel safe, as though this man with all the answers and some of the excuses could erase the nightmare she’d been trying to manage.
The line disconnected.
She checked her text messages and saw his number.
She opened the message.
Camden Brooks
Just his name.
To the point and without bullshit—just like him.
She saved him in her phone.
His name and number were comforting, but they didn’t make her any sleepier.
Amelia rolled onto her back again and stared at the ceiling.
She decided against taking sleeping medicine and futilely tried a couple of tricks.
She counted sheep, but that became a game of how fast she could think of the numbers.
Then Amelia tried to count backward from a thousand.
The task proved boring but not in a way that made her drowsy.
Sleep . Go to sleep .
Demanding that she fall asleep only made her more frustrated and wider awake.
Her phone screen illuminated on the nightstand with a silent incoming phone call, and she smiled when she saw his name.
She answered, “Hey.”
“Amelia. Hey.”
Her heart hammered a hundred miles an hour.
The way he said her name made her insides flip.
“I’m glad it’s you,” she said.
“How many people call you in the middle of the night?”
Her stomach fluttered.
She grinned into her pillow.
“Only you.”
“Good to hear.”
She curled her knees to her belly and held the phone close.
“Did you decide to tell me about your super-secret office?”
The quiet rumble of his amusement skimmed over her senses.
“No. Sorry to disappoint.”
He wouldn’t disappoint her.
“You would not believe the secret lair I’ve conjured up in my head.”
“Trust me. The place I work is more than you can imagine.”
“I have a very creative, very vivid imagination.” She caught herself, wondering if that sounded like something other than how she meant it.
A blush warmed her cheeks, and she quickly added, “Did you ever watch that movie Men in Black ? The one with Will Smith and the aliens? That’s about where my head’s at.”
He laughed.
“Pretty close. Sans the aliens.”
“Ah, man. Too bad.”
“I don’t mean to keep you up. I know it’s the middle of the night where you are—”
“But not you?”
“Not exactly—that’s for another day, okay?”
She liked that their conversation would continue.
Amelia snuggled against her pillow.
“Okay.”
“I had a quick thought, and I’m probably off base and out of line, but what the hell.”
“I’m all ears.”
“If you see those agents again and your gut tells you something’s off… I want you to listen to your gut.”
She rolled her lips together.
Gone were the warm and fuzzy feelings that had enveloped her like a safe cocoon.
He knew better than she, and his words sounded a lot like a warning.
She trusted him. As random and unknown as he was, he was the only person on her side.
“Do you know who they are?” she asked.
“No. I swear, but… you never know in my line of work.”
“The super-secret phone-answering profession.”
He chortled.
“Yeah. Exactly. Those are my people, even if they’re not. We’re all in the same orbit, like you said. We all have our motivations and marching orders. Sometimes it gets a bit murky.”
“Murky?”
“You should watch out for yourself.”
Concern needled the bottom of her stomach.
He was validating what she sensed.
“Do you know more than you’re telling me?”
“I swear I don’t. But I know the system, and that’s enough to listen to your instincts. Promise me?”
Her instincts said Camden was where she should put her trust. If she didn’t know which way was up, she would ask him.
Her sister had trusted him—even if it hadn’t been Camden specifically.
That was what Amelia would lean into. “I promise.”