CHAPTER Six
Camille fell right to sleep. At one point, she hoped something might happen between the two of them, but that was just crazy thinking.
After all, she had known the man for less than a day. That made her beer, pizza, and fuck scenario sound way too slutty. After she slipped into Ross’s t-shirt, she took one brief moment to smile because it smelled like him, and then she was out like a light.
When Camille woke the next morning, she had a bit of a headache, so she lay there a little longer, thinking about the last twenty-four hours.
Never in a million years did she think she would be crushing so hard for someone from a case.
This situation had never happened before.
Until Ross, Camille was able to be one hundred percent professional, so she didn’t exactly know how she’d let herself fall so hard so fast.
As she lay there, thinking and rubbing her sore temples, she smelled bacon.
And he even cooks! Ross Paine, you’re killing me!
Camille rolled out of bed and walked out to the kitchen to see Ross putting some biscuits into the oven. He had his back to her, but he heard her stirring and now sensed she was there in the kitchen.
“Good, you’re awake. These biscuits won’t take long,” he said, shutting the oven door.
Turning to face her, he was totally unprepared for what he saw.
Camille was standing there in nothing but his t-shirt, which didn’t quite cover her panties, and its thin fabric was very revealing regarding the impression of her hard nipples poking through.
The long locks he had only seen in a ponytail fell over her shoulders and all the way down her back, and he was mesmerized.
She was about the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen, and he knew his reaction to seeing her this way was pretty telling since he stood speechless, just staring at her.
Camille sensed his surprise and realized she must have been a damn mess, having just gotten up and being a little hungover and all.
“Oh, I’m sorry,” she said, looking down at her bare legs and her braless breasts. Suddenly, she felt self-conscious, and she scurried back into the bedroom.
Ross was still under her spell, and even after she left, the image of her standing there, so naturally sexy, stayed on his mind. But the way she ran off made him feel like a dumbass for making her so uncomfortable.
When Camille returned, she had her hair back in a ponytail, was fully clothed, and breakfast was ready.
“I’m so sorry, I just came out here half-dressed like I owned the place,” she said, taking a chair at the table.
“This is so nice of you. Thank you for letting me stay, and now, of course, for this delicious-looking breakfast.” Camille was rambling once again, but she was nervous, and she couldn’t stop.
Ross was a little amused. He finally ended her agony.
“It’s been my pleasure.” His damn eyes were doing that thing again.
“And please don’t apologize for making my day.
” His pause was necessary. Ross had to take a deep breath.
He was about to say something flirty and bold.
And once it was out, there was no going back.
“I never knew that old t-shirt could look so good.”
And there it was—the big, white smile and sparkling, blue eyes combo that made her blush.
And this time it came with a sexy compliment, and she could feel her goosebumps making her nipples hard.
Thank goodness she was dressed and not just wearing that thin t-shirt.
Still, she wondered if he knew the effect he had on her.
Camille ate her bacon and the rest of her breakfast, thoroughly convinced that sparks were flying between them.
Just don’t do anything stupid, Milly!
After breakfast, she helped Ross clean up and then gathered her things.
“I’m headed back to the motel to do a little research on the computer, and then I’m going to pay Sam Jenkins a visit in Camdenton.” Now it was Camille’s turn to be bold. “Do you want me to come by this afternoon and let you know what happened?”
“Absolutely!” Ross said. “I’m going fishing today. I didn’t get to yesterday as I planned, so God willing, I’m cooking fish tonight if you want to stay for supper?”
Camille was completely satisfied. She even got a dinner invitation. “That sounds nice,” Camille replied. “Anything I can pick up in town?” “No, I’m good!”
“I’ll bring dessert. How about that?”
“I could eat some dessert,” he said, nodding his head and making a queer, little face that Camille thought was just the cutest damn thing.
“Great, I should be back here by four o’clock. We can go over whatever I find out, and then I’ll help you cook.”
Ross was on cloud nine. All morning, he had been wondering how to make sure she was coming back that night. He was worried for nothing. It all fell into place quite nicely.
Sam Jenkins was a middle-aged reporter who had never had a big story and who had never made a name for himself in the business.
People in the lake area knew him because their community was relatively small.
But being known as a person and being known as a great reporter were two very different things altogether.
His lack of success was a mystery to Jenkins.
He wasn’t lazy, he didn’t cut corners, and his credibility was intact.
Jenkins was unlucky, and he was getting damn tired of his career suffering because someone else always got the big stories and the big breaks.
So, when he received an anonymous call last spring saying there was a black truck spotted on Snakepit Road the night Kelcee Meyer went missing, he decided to report the information even though it came from an unverified source.
No one else had reported this evidence, and he thought getting it out there first could be his big break, especially when he discovered Ross Paine had a black truck.
Now, in addition to the murder weapon that was found in Paine’s garage, there was more evidence pointing Paine’s way.
Jenkins was thrilled to have a piece of the puzzle no one else had.
Unknowingly, however, it was false information that ended up being the nail in the coffin for Ross as far as public opinion went.
Naturally, the police weren’t happy when they discovered this information came from an anonymous caller.
Plus, there was no license plate number and no other identifiable elements regarding the truck.
Yet, eventually, even the police used this information as damaging evidence against Paine.
The truck, however, was not enough to hold him when the weapon was thrown out.
Literally, without the weapon, there was no evidence.
On the way to Camdenton, Camille ran the conversation with Jenkins through her head.
She decided to just show up, knowing the element of surprise was the best way to catch liars.
As she pulled into the drive, she was deep in thought.
Even so, when she saw a red, king cab truck in the lot, her defenses flared.
What on Earth? No way! And then her practical side kicked in. There’s probably hundreds of red king cabs at the lake.
Camille couldn’t explain why, but this truck seemed particularly suspicious and convenient.
Camille couldn’t wait to go in and check it out.
But before she could, a burly monster of a man exited the building.
Instinctively, Camille got out her phone and snapped a few pictures.
The man was in the truck before she could get a good one of his whole body, but she got a few that showed his face as he was driving.
She even got a picture of the plate and one of a skull and crossbones decal on the back window.
Hmm, if this is the guy who sat in Ross’s driveway waiting for Janelle, she sure has done a 180 from Ross.
When the man was completely gone, Camille took a moment to scroll through the photos she’d snapped, and even though she didn’t think she got a good one of his face, Camille stopped cold on one particular picture.
Those eyes. Those dark, soulless eyes made her shiver, and even though it was just a picture, she had to look away.
Shit!
She closed her phone, gathered her things, and went in to meet Jenkins.
Camille was spooked, and that didn’t happen very often.
“Mr. Jenkins?”
“Yes,” he said with an annoyed voice, not looking up.
“I’m Camille Hargrove. I’m an investigator, and I have a few questions for you about the Meyer case from last spring.”
“Wow, two in a row,” Jenkins said, genuinely surprised. “What do you mean?” Camille asked.
“There was another person in here just a few minutes ago wanting to talk about that case.”
“Really?” Camille said, not wanting to sound too eager.
“Yeah, he just wanted to know if I’ve gotten any more tips. He said he’s dating Ross Paine’s wife and worries that her ‘crazy ex’ will try to do something to her.”
Camille immediately thought that sounded like an excuse and that the man was fishing for information.
Why would Janelle’s new boyfriend be poking around for information unless he was somehow involved? I’ll bet anything he’s guilty as sin.
“So, what did you tell him?”
“I said the case was cold. As far as I know, there’s no new evidence. Everyone still believes Ross Paine did it, and he got lucky getting the murder weapon thrown out. No one’s looking for any new evidence since they’ve already found what they want.”
Camille was happy that Janelle’s boyfriend had left, thinking whatever secrets he held were safe, but she was dying to prove this worthless reporter wrong.
“Well, Mr. Jenkins, that’s not exactly true. I have new evidence that conflicts with something you reported.”
Jenkins bristled a bit and then waited for her disclosure. “And I have an eyewitness, not just an anonymous caller.” “I still don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“I think you do. I think you remember reporting an unverified claim received from an unverified source because the information fit your needs. I think you saw the black truck as a way to make a big break in this case and as another way to point the finger at Ross Paine since the murder weapon had been thrown out.”
“Well, sweetie,” Jenkins replied. “Just because you say it, doesn’t make it true.”
Camille looked at Jenkins with a clever smile. “Yes, Mr. Jenkins, that’s precisely my point.” Jenkins felt his face getting red hot.
“It doesn’t matter. The tip I got didn’t put Paine back behind bars,” he said, feeling a little defeated.
“But it did add fuel to the fire as far as Ross Paine’s reputation went.” “Who cares? The guy’s guilty! The crescent wrench that killed that girl was found in his garage.”
“Mr. Jenkins, you and I both know anyone could have put that wrench there. And let’s be honest. Who would take the bloody murder weapon and just put it back in their garage, not even clean it, not even try to hide it?”
Jenkins thought for a minute. “You say you have conflicting information about the truck, huh?”
“I sat with a reputable source who told me a very specific account of what he saw on Snakepit Road the night Kelcee Meyer disappeared. There was a truck, but it wasn’t black.”
Camille anticipated the next question, so she got in front of it.
“My source didn’t get involved earlier because by the time he realized what he saw was Kelcee’s murder, Ross Paine was already in custody.
He figured he could stay out of it. But then he read your article pointing to an assailant with a black truck at the scene, and he was conflicted.
He still wanted to stay out of it, but he also knew Paine had been wrongly accused.
It’s a tough thing to live with, knowing you have information that could have prevented ruining a man’s life. ”
Camille’s accusatory tone hit Jenkins the wrong way, but the rational part of him knew she had a point.
“There’s nothing I can do about it now,” Jenkins said. “Oh, I think there is!” Camille countered.
“If you’re suggesting I ruin my reputation as a reporter to save a guy who’s already convicted in the eyes of the community, you’re crazy, lady.” “So, you’re satisfied ruining a man’s life to save a little face?”
Jenkins knew his excuse was shady, but retracting and admitting he didn’t have a reliable source would kill his career.
“I’m saying I’m not prepared at this point to do what you want me to do,” Jenkins admitted.
“Well then, I’m afraid you’re forcing my hand, Mr. Jenkins.
I am prepared to set the record straight, and I’m far more concerned with justice than your reputation.
I think everyone needs to remember that a young woman was stalked, raped, and murdered.
Ross Paine is innocent, and Kelcee’s killer got off scot-free.
So, I’m going to run this story, even if you won’t. ”
Jenkins could tell the feisty investigator meant every word she said, so he made a decision. “I get a lunch hour at noon. Meet me at Wrangler’s Buffet, and we’ll talk. But now, I need to get back to work. I have a deadline.”