Chapter Twelve
Thick sheets of rain poured down as Camden pulled out of the federal prison complex.
The weather had only gotten uglier since he first arrived almost two hours before.
The wait hadn’t been good for his attitude.
They had certainly known he was coming, but the CIA didn’t care.
They were there to screw around. He checked the mirrors and watched for tails.
He glanced over. Her arms were crossed over her chest. She rubbed the thin coat over her arms. He turned the heat up, but her rubbing her arms might have been a self-soothing technique as much as it was trying to warm herself.
“Where are we going?” Amelia asked.
He would take her anywhere she wanted, but he guessed the eventual destination would be her condo. “Wherever you want. Your home?”
She wouldn’t look over. Amelia rolled her lips together and gnawed on the bottom one, as though that might ease her apprehension. “Yeah. Sure. That makes sense.”
“We don’t have to go there. Somewhere else?”
“No, you’re right…”
He stole another glance. “Amelia, consider me your taxi. If there’s someplace else, just say the word. If you need to call someone and let them know where you are, tell me.”
Maybe she didn’t trust him. He certainly wouldn’t trust anyone if he’d lived through the bullshit she’d experienced.
“No.” She still chewed on her lip. “I don’t want to inconvenience you…”
Was she kidding?
“…but could we stop someplace for drive-through? I’m starving.”
He had to laugh. He’d been worried she didn’t feel safe, but she was hungry. He should’ve thought of that. The food in prison had probably been crap. “Of course.”
“I’ll pay you back.”
“Don’t worry about that.” They were still about an hour from Arlington. He recalled an exit with several options not too far away. “Burgers? Tacos? Subs? What are you feeling?”
“All of the above?” she joked tentatively, as though testing out how much she could lean on him. “How about subs?”
“Sounds like a plan.” He checked his side view mirrors then spent another moment studying the woman curled into a ball in the passenger seat.
Her lips were rolled together, pressed into a tight line as she stared out the window.
“Do you need to call someone?”
She shook her head. “I paid an enormous amount of money for a lawyer. He was supposed to pass along a message to my business partner.” Barely raising her drooping shoulders, Amelia shrugged half-heartedly.
The woman was defeated. Even her attorney didn’t have her trust. A small part of Camden itched to make things right in her world.
She continued, “It either got to Veronica, or all hell’s broken loose, and my company is in a tailspin. Not much I can do either way right now. It will probably be in a tailspin anyway. Who wants their corporate meeting planned by an accused murderer? Forget weddings or bar mitzvahs.”
Her bitterness was warranted. Again, the niggling itch to fix her world scratched just beneath the surface of his chest.
“Maybe a friend?” he asked.
The corners of her mouth dipped as her frown tugged down.
She fidgeted with the sleeve of her jacket.
“I don’t want to explain to anyone that I didn’t kill my sister and brother-in-law.
Even people who know me would have to jump through serious cognitive hurdles to be okay with me.
I mean, I was arrested. That doesn’t happen unless there’s a preponderance of evidence. At least, that’s what I used to think.”
Her flat affect worried Camden. He stole another glance. He couldn’t stop. She was tired—beautiful but exhausted, with the spark he’d heard over the phone beaten out of her.
“Let’s get some decent food in you, and if you change your mind, let me know.”
A sign along the highway came into view and listed fast food and gas stops.
He changed lanes and exited. “Know what you want?”
“Turkey and cheese. As big as they’ll let you order.”
Well, she might’ve been quiet and staring out the window, but at least she still had her appetite. He parked in front of the brightly lit sign. “Anything else?”
“Bottle of iced tea if they have it. Lemonade if it’s just fountain drinks.”
“Be right back.”
The shop had no line. Camden ordered, keeping a protective eye on their vehicle.
Another car pulled in and blocked his direct line of sight.
He rubbed the back of his neck and repositioned so that he could wait for their food and see her simultaneously.
He didn’t think the CIA would swoop her back into custody, but he never would’ve thought they’d arrest her for murder.
Shit happened. He would be ready for it.
His phone buzzed with a text message. Beth’s name made him double-check on Amelia before reading the message. She was staring blankly out the window. His jaw clenched. Camden drew in a deep, angry breath and swiped his phone.
Beth: How is she?
“How the fuck do you think she’s doing?” he muttered. Instead of asking that, Camden tried to come up with a more professional response but couldn’t. In the end, he typed out his initial thoughts, F-bombs and all, and hit Send.
Beth: I want to meet with her.
He snorted. There was an absolutely zero percent chance he would let Beth anywhere near Amelia.
Camden: Are you out of your mind?
He had no justification for putting his foot down, but he did it anyway.
His boot would slam over and over until Beth understood she couldn’t get her deceptive claws into Amelia.
Besides, no way would Amelia go for a meeting with the people who facilitated her arrest. She was traumatized, downtrodden.
Her fiery spark was so dim that Camden worried it would stay dark. Beth buzzed his phone again.
Beth: I’m out of town for the next three days. I’ll arrange a meeting when I get back.
Camden: What part of “you’re out of your mind” said to you, “Hey, let’s consider this idea a go”?
Beth: I’m not the bad guy.
Camden: I could argue all day long that you’re wrong.
His order was called. He pocketed his phone and picked up their food.
As the rain beat down, he jogged to the driver’s side, wondering when—or even if—he would find a good time to bring up Beth.
“Here you go. Twelve-inch turkey, toasted with extra cheese.” He handed over her bag and placed the drinks on the center console. “And a lemonade.”
“Oh, you’re a saint.”
Camden snorted. “I’ve been called a lot of things, but that’s a first.” He unwrapped his Italian sub and folded the paper along the bottom half. The rain drilled over the roof and windshield. He gestured to the convenience store across the parking lot. “Anything else before we go?”
“No. Thanks.” Her nervous gaze darted about the rainy night. “If we’re not in a rush, you don’t have to eat while you drive.”
“I’m your chauffeur. We go wherever, whenever you want.”
“A chauffeur, huh?” Amelia played with the cap of her lemonade bottle. “Who knew life’s luxuries were earned with a little bit of prison time?”
“I think you’ve earned that and a lot more after the government’s little stunt. You can probably put your attorney to work on damages and restitution.”
Amelia cocked her head and, after a long moment, put the lemonade back in the cup holder as though doing so took all her mental energy. She stared into her lap then finally tilted her head toward him. “What do you mean? What stunt?”
He stopped chewing then swallowed hard. “What do you mean, what do I mean?”
“Why would the government owe me—I mean, I think they should. But why would anyone else?”
The sub paper crinkled in his hand. The rain smacked. Every little noise stood out as silence rolled between them. His mind jumped back to earlier. She’d hugged him—she’d been surprised by him. “Your lawyer didn’t talk to you?”
“I haven’t talked to my lawyer in days.”
His mouth went dry. His mind drafted several new text messages to Beth that were infinitely less friendly. “You mean… no one talked to you about this?”
“The guards had me shower and change out of my jumpsuit, and then they walked me out to you. No one said a word.” Her eyes widened. “I thought my attorney bailed me out or something. And you… I don’t know… just magically appeared.”
“God. No.” Camden pinched the bridge of his nose. “Amelia. You’re out of there. Done. As if it never happened.”
“But…”
“I’m positive there’s an army of CIA tech dudes scouring the internet to erase any trace that this ever happened.”
Eyes wide, her jaw dropped. “Are you serious?”
“Yeah, sweetheart. Dead serious. This isn’t even like a presidential pardon.
This is erasing the past.” He threaded a hand into his hair, completely unsure where to begin.
He didn’t have specifics, only his marching orders after unleashing Jared Westin on Beth’s bosses.
“I can’t believe no one told you.” Camden laid a hand on her shoulder and squeezed. “Everything’s going to be okay.”
He thought she might smile or celebrate, but Amelia collapsed as though she didn’t have to hold up the weight of the world.
She twisted her fingers together and watched the raindrops splatter onto the windshield and roll away.
“I don’t know what to say.” She turned to him again, uncertain, and quietly offered, “Thanks.”
“I didn’t do it.”
The corners of her eyes tightened. Her forehead tensed as she studied him. After a long moment of scrutiny, her lips quirked. “I think you’d say that even if you arranged the whole thing with the president.”
“You’re giving me too much credit.”
“Doubtful.”
She dropped her head back and drew in a deep breath as though catching her footing in life once again. But then she froze, and the relief drained from her expression. “Did they find my sister?”