Desperate Measures (An Aspen Falls Novel) Page 8

  “I’ll be back soon, I promise. Maybe midweek.”

  Her grandma looked defeated. Then suddenly she perked up. “That’s alright,” she said. “Marta is coming by. I’ll have company.”

  Cam stared at her. “Mom is coming?”

  She nodded. “Just as soon as she’s done with her shift at the plant.”

  “The plant?”

  A frown creased her grandma’s forehead. “The power plant.”

  Cam bit back a sigh. Her mother hadn’t worked at the power plant for at least fifteen years. It had been a job she’d somehow scored when Cam had been in middle school, a second-shift job involving custodial work. She’d lasted three weeks.

  “Mom isn’t coming,” she said gently.

  Her grandma clutched at the afghan, her gnarled fingers digging into the fabric, and said nothing.

  Cam crossed the short distance between them and dropped a kiss on her head. Her gray hair was soft and wiry, like the terrier puppy they’d had when she was little. He’d run away after they ran out of dog food. Cam had fed him scraps of her own meager meals, but it apparently hadn’t been enough; he’d disappeared one night, and she never saw him again.

  “I’ll be back, Grandma,” she whispered.

  Tears welled up in her eyes and she didn’t know what they were for.

  For Grandma.

  For her mother, whom she still loved despite all the bullshit that accompanied her.

  For the little dog she’d lost all those years ago.

  Or for something—or someone—else she wasn’t willing to admit to.

  She blinked away the wetness and straightened back up into a standing position.

  There was one thing Cam wasn’t.

  Weak.

  And tears symbolized weakness to her.

  “I’ll be back,” she repeated, more firmly this time.

  Her grandma nodded. She didn’t speak another word about Marta.

  Cam slipped out of the apartment and hurried back to her car. With any luck, she’d hit all green lights on the way home and be back before nine. Which would mean she would have been gone for just an hour.

  An hour.

  A lot could happen in an hour.

  She jammed the key into the ignition and pulled out of the parking lot. Her thoughts returned to the conversation she’d had with Alex last night. The information she’d managed to pull out of him were small pieces to the puzzle, but she still played with them, positioning them to see if they lined up to form a cohesive narrative.

  He said he’d been jumped. He said he was in a gang. And he said, over and over again, that his being in Aspen Falls, in her home, was putting her in danger.

  The admission of being involved in a gang was what had stopped her from making his whereabouts known—to the station, to Nate, to the hospital.

  They didn’t have gangs in Aspen Falls, but she’d grown up in a neighborhood where gangs controlled a lot of what happened on the street. There was no doubt in her mind what some of them were capable of doing, and just how far they’d go to exact revenge.

  Cam didn’t know what exactly Alex was mixed up in—those were the next questions on her list—but she knew she needed to tread lightly. For his safety as well as her own.

  The light in front of her turned red and she slowed to a stop, cursing under her breath. So much for making it back quickly.

  She scanned the intersection, just watching as cars lumbered through. Her eyes flitted to the rearview mirror, then to her side mirror. It was something she always did, the habits of being both a good driver and a cop. She was always on the lookout, always paying attention.

  Which was why the white Chevy Caprice two cars behind her caught her eye. It was an older model, probably late 70s, which was not something she often saw in Aspen Falls. There were a fair number of antique car aficionados, but this particular vehicle wasn’t one that had been lovingly taken care of. It was a beater of car, with a crappy paint job and rusted out spots.

  The light turned green and Cam pulled through the intersection. She drove a couple of blocks and the car directly behind her took a right onto Wilcox. The Chevy Caprice stayed back, keeping its distance.

  She frowned.

  On impulse, she turned right at the next signal, even though going straight would have taken her home.

  The Caprice followed.

  She drove another couple of blocks, then hooked a left.

  The car mirrored her moves.

  Her pulse quickened.

  There was no doubt in her mind.

  She was being followed.

  She stole covert glances at the rearview mirror, trying to get a better look at the vehicle’s occupants. They kept their distance, though, making any identifying markers impossible to see. What she could see was at least three people, two in the front and one in the back. Dark hair. Probably male.

  Beads of sweat popped on her forehead.

  She wasn’t one to jump to conclusions, but she was the first to take a cautious approach, to work with the available data and posit a theory or two.

  There were a few things she knew to be true.

  One, there was a car full of men that appeared to be following her.

  Two, Alex had told her he was in a gang.

  Three, she knew he was on the run, and that he was worried he was in danger.

  It didn’t take a genius to figure out that the last thing she should do right now was drive home.

  She quickly assessed her surroundings, placing herself on the mental map of Aspen Falls that she had in her head.

  And then she drove in the direction of the one place she figured to be the safest.

  Nate’s house.

  14

  Sunday, September 9th

  10:20 am

  Alex looked at the clock on the nightstand.

  He frowned.

  It was closing in on ten thirty.

  Cam had told him last night that she’d be back before ten. Probably earlier. One of the notes she’d left had confirmed this.

  He adjusted himself on the bed. His hair had dried from his shower, and he was dressed in clean clothes for what felt like the first time in days. He’d opted not to get back under the sheets, knowing they were probably stained and dirty, and had positioned himself on top of them instead. Dressed in the sweats and one of the shirts Cam had picked up for him, he felt human, more like himself, than he had in a while.

  There had been no strange noises, no signs of activity outside of the house other than the occasional shrieks of kids playing.

  He’d had coffee. The Pop Tarts. He’d used Cam’s toothpaste, rubbing it on his finger to use as a makeshift brush. He’d even pulled out his burner phone from the pocket of his jeans and managed a quick search online. His name wasn’t popping anywhere.

  The day had been filled with nothing but good signs. Signs that should have relaxed him a little. He was cleaned, he was fed, and even though Cam’s station had gotten a BOLO for him, his name hadn’t filtered into any news stories.

  So why was he nervous as hell?

  He knew exactly why.

  Because she wasn’t home yet.

  He might have been absent from Cam’s life for the past twelve years, but a few things were indisputable. She was still wary about leaving him alone in her house, and she was always true to her word.

  If she’d told him she would be back by a certain time, she would make damned sure she stuck to that.

  His anxiety ratcheted up a notch. What if something had happened to her? His first thought didn’t immediately go to his connection to her. Instead, he thought of more mundane but equally terrifying possibilities. What if she’d been in a car accident? What if someone had stormed the assisted living home and taken hostages? What if she’d been assaulted walking back to her car?

  He shook his head. He was being ridiculous.

  More concerning thoughts popped up.

  What if she hadn’t gone to the assisted living center at all? What if she’d
gone into the station instead? She could be running his name right now, trying to pull information about him. His gut clenched at the thought, even though he knew she wouldn’t find anything. Not in the databases she would be looking in, anyway.

  But what if she started making phone calls to other stations in other cities? Cities like Bentley?

  He swallowed.

  Fuck.

  That could result in disaster.

  He hopped off the bed, belatedly remembering the injuries he still had. His ribs smarted and his leg pulsed in protest.

  He didn’t listen.

  Alex paced the floor, running through the worst-case scenarios.

  If she started talking to people in Bentley, that would unleash an avalanche of danger. Once the wrong people connected Cam to him, it was all over. A swarm of bad guys, the worst of the worst, would descend on Aspen Falls. He would be powerless to protect her, not when they’d be coming at them from all directions.

  There was nothing in his current life that linked him with her; he knew that for sure.

  The only reason anyone would tie the two of them together would be if they knew Alex was in town. He’d tried his best to keep a low profile, had taken an Uber to get there, which was about the best possible option he could think of in that moment of panic. But if Cam had started poking around?

  All bets were off.

  A phone rang, a sharp, shrill sound that caught Alex off guard.

  It was in the house.

  In the kitchen.

  A landline phone.

  Who the hell still had a landline phone?

  It rang a few times, then stopped.

  A minute later, it rang again. Four rings, then quiet. And then it started ringing again.

  Alex scrubbed a hand down his face. Who was trying to call her? More importantly, who was calling the phone in her house? She had a cell phone, had threatened to use it multiple times during her conversations with him.

  He swore under his breath, just as his adrenaline spiked.

  What if someone was calling about her?

  If she’d been hurt…or worse…someone would try to get ahold of her next of kin. If it was someone at the hospital, someone who wasn’t a fellow officer and didn’t know what her home life was like, they might call her house. See if there was a spouse or a roommate or someone they could impart information to.

  Fear gripped Alex, twisting his stomach into knots. He hurried toward the kitchen, to the sound of the ringing, doing his best to ignore the lingering pains radiating through his body.

  He stopped short of the phone mounted on the kitchen wall. It was such a throwback, something the roach-infested apartments he’d bounced around during his childhood all had in common. The phones in his apartments had rarely worked; his family never seemed to have money to pay the phone bill. Once he hit his teen years, it had been far easier to steal a cell phone…and then find a way to pay for a plan.

  The ringing stopped. He looked around for some sort of answering machine, not expecting to see one. The phone probably had a digital answering machine connected to it. Without a password, there was no hope of accessing it to see if any messages had been left.

  Alex braced his hands against the counter and lowered his head, trying to figure out a plan.

  The phone rang again.

  He could answer it.

  But even as he thought this, he shook his head.

  Bad fucking idea.

  He had no idea who would be on the other end of the line. Answering the phone would be like picking up a megaphone and shouting from the rooftops that he was in town.

  An idea suddenly occurred to him. He thought it through as the phone continued its four rings. It was a long shot, but it might work.

  He pulled his own phone from the pocket of his sweats. He opened up the search engine and looked for assisted living homes in Aspen Falls. There were two listings.

  Which one would her grandmother be at? He read the names and suddenly he knew. He pressed the hyperlink to make the call.

  “Casa Mañana,” a cheerful voice answered.

  The kitchen phone started ringing again and he backed away from it so the sound wouldn’t be a distraction.

  “Good morning,” he said smoothly. “I’m hoping you can help me with a rather unusual request.”

  “Okayyyy…” The woman on the other end sounded doubtful.

  “My sister was visiting our grandmother at Casa Mañana today,” he said. “Isabel Perez?”

  “Oh, of course,” the woman said. “I know Isabel. You’re talking about Camila, right?”

  “Yes, she’s my sister.” Alex nodded. “I’m on vacation and am trying to get ahold of her. Nothing urgent, but it’s rather important I speak with her. Anyway, long story short is that my phone somehow managed to wipe out all of my contacts.”

  “Oh, I hate when that happens,” the woman said.

  The kitchen phone had stopped ringing and Alex hurried over, lifting the phone off the receiver. He peered at the wall-mounted unit and smiled.

  “I have her home number memorized but not her cell.” He quickly rattled off the digits, hoping the woman on the other end would confirm them and believe he was who he said he was. “Is that the number you have for her?”

  “Let me check.” She was quiet for a minute, the only sound the tapping of keyboard keys. “What were the last four digits?”

  “1045.”

  “Yes, that’s one of the numbers we have on file.”

  Alex exhaled as he hung up the receiver. “You should have her cell on file, too, right? Since that’s the phone she uses most frequently.”

  “We do. Would you like that number?”

  Alex wanted to reach into the phone and hug this woman. “That would be great.”

  He scrambled to find a piece of paper and pen, yanking open every kitchen drawer. He finally opened one that contained a small plastic tray filled with pens. He grabbed one and ripped a paper towel from the holder. “I’m ready.”

  She recited the number and he scribbled it down.

  He thanked her and hung up.

  The kitchen line was silent.

  He picked up the receiver again. He wasn’t taking chances with his burner phone.

  Quickly, he punched in the numbers.

  Cam answered immediately.

  “What are you doing?” she barked.

  “Where are you?” he asked, almost simultaneously.

  “How did you get my number?” she asked.

  “Are you okay?” he shot back.

  The questions ricocheted between them, all of them going unanswered.

  “Hold on.” Cam’s voice was loud.

  Alex’s inclination was to forge ahead, to demand answers. But he waited.

  “I’m…I’m on my way home,” she said. Her voice was a little breathless. She sounded disoriented. Not like the Cam he knew. “Stay there.”

  “Where have you been?” he asked.

  She didn’t answer.

  And the line went dead.

  15

  Sunday, September 9th

  10:40 am

  Cam was numb.

  Numb with disbelief.

  The fear she’d experienced after being followed had subsided…but the news Nate had to share nearly undid her.

  She’d made her way to the bungalow Nate shared with Sally, watching in her rearview as the Caprice rolled on by the driveway. With her sunglasses on, the people in the car had no way of knowing she was looking at them, especially when she pulled out her lipstick and pretended to be focused on applying that.

  She’d gotten a good look at the people in the car. Two Hispanic males, probably in their twenties, occupied the front two seats. A Hispanic woman was in back, along with a toddler.

  Cam frowned. Maybe the people in the back were a throwaway, planted to create the illusion of normalcy. People with kids in their cars didn’t commit crimes—at least that was the public perception. If Cam was being honest, it was often law enfo
rcement’s perception, too. It was far harder to suspect a vehicle was involved in gang activity when there was a child inside. No one wanted to put little kids in harm’s way.

  Except sometimes people did.

  Especially to divert attention.

  She waited in her car for a few minutes but the car never came back. She pulled out her phone and dialed Nate’s number.

  His voice was sleepy. “Yeah?”

  “Nate.”

  “Mmm?”

  “Nate, it’s me,” she said. “I’m outside your house.”

  “What?” He was wider awake now. “Outside my house?”

  “I think someone’s following me.”

  “Following you?”

  He sounded like a damn parrot.

  “White Chevy Caprice, two Hispanic males in front, a Hispanic woman and a toddler in back. Adults looked to be mid-twenties.”

  “You’re serious.”

  “Of course I’m serious,” she snapped.

  He swore under his breath. “Give me a sec.”

  The line went dead.

  A minute later, the door to the bungalow opened and Nate stepped outside, wearing nothing but a pair of black basketball shorts, his hair mussed, his cheeks coated in stubble. Any other woman who might have seen him like that would have probably swooned a little.

  Not Cam.

  He was just…Nate.

  And right now, he was walking out to his driveway, ostensibly to retrieve the paper that was at the junction of where his drive met the street. But she knew what he was doing.

  Looking for the car.

  He knocked the side window of her car with his hand and she opened the door.

  “No sign of them,” he said. He leaned down. “You sure they were following you?”

  Cam leaned her head back against the headrest. “You’re sure?”

  He nodded. “I checked both directions. Nada.”

  “They were following me,” she muttered. “I swear it.”

  “You look like shit.”

  She scowled. “Thanks a lot.”

  “Come in,” he said. “Sally is making breakfast now that my lazy ass is out of bed.”

  Cam shook her head. “I can’t.” Her thoughts immediately returned to Alex. “I…I have to get home.”