Chapter Six
“Do you like Vietnamese food?” Stefanie asked Campbell over the phone. Not that it was the extent of what she liked to cook, but it seemed like a nice way to go for starters, if he was interested. But she was also open to other types of meals she was good at making.
“I like every type of food,” he said diplomatically.
Good answer, she thought, and asked him, “Would you like to have dinner with me tonight?”
Without pause, Campbell said surely, “I’d love to.”
“Terrific. Does seven o’clock work for you?”
“Yes, seven is good.”
“Okay.” Stefanie thought about Curlie. “By the way, you aren’t allergic to cats, are you?”
“Not at all,” he said, then added, “Love cats.”
She chuckled. “Good.”
Stefanie texted him her address while inside her car in the parking lot of a grocery store, where she would need to pick up a few items for dinner now that it had been confirmed.
Two hours later, she had prepared lemongrass chicken thighs, red rice and Vietnamese egg rolls called Cha Gio, to go with white wine and taro rice pudding for dessert.
Hope he likes it, Stefanie told herself after freshening up. She changed into a floral peach-colored midi shirtdress and slipped on wedge espadrilles.
Campbell arrived right on time, grinning as he came in. “You look great,” he told her at the door.
“Thanks.” Stefanie gave him a once-over, noting that he was wearing a yellow oxford dress shirt, dark gray wool slacks and black loafers. “You clean up pretty nicely yourself.”
He laughed. “It’s nice to have a reason to every now and then.”
“That goes both ways,” she admitted, inviting him inside.
Her cat wasted no time cozying up to Campbell’s pant leg, as if reuniting with an old friend.
Stephanie said, “This is Curlie.”
“Hi, Curlie.” Campbell allowed the cat to run around him playfully before scooting off. He looked around. “Nice place you have here.”
“Thanks.” She smiled softly.
He took a whiff of the food and stated, “Smells wonderful.”
“It’ll taste even better.” Stefanie felt confident enough to be presumptuous in this instance. Till proven otherwise.
“I have no doubt,” he told her coolly. “Can I help with anything?”
“You can pour the wine, if you like,” she replied, pointing out the brown Shaker-style cabinets where the wineglasses were kept.
“Will do.”
As Campbell did that, Stefanie put out the food on the mid-century round wooden dining room table. They sat across from each other on brown faux leather side chairs.
“Delicious,” Campbell declared, the moment he bit into a lemongrass chicken thigh.
Stefanie giggled. “Good to know.” Guess I haven’t lost my touch after all, she told herself pleasingly. After he commended her on more of the food, she said to him, “I went to the Braison Family compound this afternoon…”
“Really?” A thick disapproving brow shot up.
She felt the need to explain. “I needed to have a look at where Mia spent her time before what happened to her. And since Bella felt it wasn’t a threatening environment for me to be overly concerned about, I went, hoping to get more insight into the life Mia led.”
“I see.” He scooped up some red rice onto his fork. “And how did you make out on your journey?”
“Not very well, I’m afraid.” Stefanie sliced her knife into the Cha Gio.
“Before I could make any headway at all with Jasmine—the one who gave me the flyer at the park—Kenneth Braison cut that short. He had a muscular man named Juan escort me off the premises. I don’t think it was something I said.
Or maybe I didn’t say enough to be considered worthy of being a potential member of the Family. ”
“It was likely neither of those,” Campbell told her frankly, forking up a piece of chicken. “I’m guessing that Braison, as the cult leader, is being extra cautious as to who he lets in, while having to look over his shoulder as we investigate the death of Mia O’Dell.”
Stefanie angled her face. “So, you still think he may have something to do with it?”
“I certainly can’t rule it out at this stage, even if the man can apparently account for his whereabouts when she died.” Campbell sat back, pensive. “Wouldn’t be the first time a Braison has been at the center of a mystery surrounding a woman found dead in Reston Hills Park on Founder’s Day.”
Stefanie sipped her wine thoughtfully and said, “Bella mentioned something to me about that. But she didn’t provide any details. Are you saying that Wendell Braison, Kenneth’s father, was suspected of killing another cult member?”
“Yeah,” Campbell said matter-of-factly. “Twenty years ago, a forty-one-year-old waitress and Braison Family member named Lynda Boxleitner was left in the nude at the park, after ingesting a lethal amount of a poison called thallium sulfate. Wendell Braison, who was thought to be romantically involved with Lynda—his initials, WB, were tattooed on her arm—was the chief suspect in her death. But it was never proven. The case has remained in limbo ever since. Though Braison has been dead himself for years now, this story has continued to haunt Reston Hills like a curse.”
Stefanie peered at him. “You seem to know a lot about the case…”
Campbell nodded while holding his wineglass.
“My father, Mason Sawyer, was the lead detective in the investigation,” he told her.
“He also happened to have been acquainted with the victim, having dated Lynda years earlier when they were both in high school.” Campbell tasted the wine.
“Dad did everything he could to find out who killed her and why, but came up short. It was probably the one unsolved case that has stuck with him to this day.”
Stefanie took a breath. “If the Braison Family was behind both deaths, do you think it could have been part of a generational ritual?” She had read about this type of thing with other cults and devil worshippers—often involving animals as sacrifices.
Could they have taken it much further here, with humans being targeted as sacrificial lambs?
“The thought has crossed my mind,” Campbell answered.
“But given the twenty years between the deaths, it’s more likely that they are linked either by kinship—making the killings personal in nature—or possibly a copycat killer emulating a decades-old murder to carry out another today.
At this point, all options are on the table. ”
“I expected as much,” Stefanie said, feeling she may have gotten carried away in her theorizing as a layperson.
She dabbed a napkin at the corners of her mouth.
She only wanted to see Mia’s death solved.
If Campbell could solve his father’s case as well, then two birds could be killed with one stone, to both of their satisfactions.
“Speaking of the table, are you ready for dessert? I made taro rice pudding.”
He grinned. “Yes, I’ve saved enough room in my stomach to take on your pudding. Have at it. I’ll help clear the table and refill the wineglasses.”
“Okay.” She was starting to like him more with each passing moment and wondered what else might be in store for them.
* * *
CAMPBELL HAD TO admit that he could get used to having dinner and dessert with Stefanie in a hurry.
Sure beat eating alone, as he’d been doing way too often since returning to Reston Hills.
The fact that she was a great cook made it that much more enjoyable.
To say nothing of just how lovely she was to be around.
He liked Stefanie’s finicky cat, too, as she’d seemed to take to him just as quickly.
They took their wine goblets with them while sitting on a blue chenille upholstered sofa in the living room.
“So, have you dated much since living in Reston Hills?” Campbell had to ask, even if for selfish reasons.
Stefanie tasted her wine. “Haven’t dated at all since moving here,” she admitted. “Too busy with other things and lack of interest, I guess.” She gazed at him. “Unless you call this a date?”
He didn’t hesitate to do just that. “I hope we can call this a date. I’d like that to be the case.”
She grinned. “So would I.”
“Then that’s that.” Campbell grinned back at her, seeing this as a positive step in getting to know one another.
Stefanie regarded him. “You mentioned having a failed relationship when you were living in Boise. What happened there?” she probed curiously.
Campbell considered this. He didn’t want to keep anything bottled up inside him that could take away from a readiness to move on.
“Her name is Naomi Espelita,” he said levelly.
“Naomi had a lot going for her, including a career as a successful classical musician. Unfortunately, we weren’t right for each other.
Too little common ground and not enough willingness to meet each other halfway.
I wish nothing but the best for her—just not with me. ”
“Okay.” Stefanie let that sink in for a moment. “Do you ever want to get married—if the right person comes along? And have children?”
“Yes, to both,” Campbell answered without hesitation. “I’m a big believer in marriage, kids, the whole nine yards. If that right person comes along, I’m there—all the way…”
Her teeth shone. “Nice to know.”
“What about you?” Figured he might as well satisfy his own curiosity while they were at it. “Could you see yourself marrying again? And starting a family?”
Stefanie took a sip of wine and met his gaze squarely. “Yes, absolutely. I never asked to be a young widow—but it happened. If a second chance comes along to be a wife again and a mother, I would certainly take it and hope things would work out.”
“Okay.” Campbell nodded. He wanted to kiss her so badly in that moment but instead talked about what they enjoyed doing outside work.
While he mentioned working out at the gym, traveling, reading and riding horses, her hobbies included swimming, watching reality television shows and surfing social media sites. They both liked to jog and hike.
Before he could come back to that desired kiss, Stefanie asked him boldly, “Do you mind if I kiss you?”
Campbell could barely contain his enthusiasm. “Not in the slightest.”
They leaned in to each other and exchanged a soft but steady kiss. Though feeling aroused and enjoying the feel of her mouth upon his, Campbell kept his libido in check. He wanted to make sure this was what they both wanted before going further.
“Nice,” he murmured after the kiss ended.
“Yes, it was,” she seconded with a smile. He left it at that, with visions of more to come.
When Stefanie walked him to the door a few minutes later, Campbell said, “Thanks for dinner.”
She blushed. “Thanks for coming.”
“Next time, I’d like to return the favor by cooking you a meal,” he told her.
“So, you cook, too?” Her eyes lit up. “Hmm… Man of many talents, huh?”
“Something like that,” Campbell teased her.
“Then it’s a date.”
“Okay.” He grinned at her.
As he drove away from her house, Campbell felt more than grateful that they’d met at all, though he wished it had been under better circumstances.
The last thing he wished upon anyone was to find a dead body—no matter the circumstances.
But Stefanie had done just that and taken an interest in Mia O’Dell and her affiliation with the Braison Family.
Even if Bella Reston, her friend and a prominent member of Reston Hills society, apparently dismissed the cult as a threat, Campbell was far from convinced.
Especially after his father’s ordeal in being unable to connect the dots in going after Wendell Braison years ago.
Maybe the more things changed, the more they remained the same. Meaning that Kenneth Braison still had to be considered a person of interest in Mia’s death, just as his father was in the death of Lynda Boxleitner.
As such, Campbell felt a professional obligation to protect Stefanie, over and beyond his romantic interest in her, so long as the current investigation remained active. But he wouldn’t overstep his bounds in dictating whom she chose to associate with—even if it was members of the Braison Family.