Page 52 of See You Again
Cami licked her lips, her mouth suddenly a desert. Her ears buzzed.
David Bloom? As in James’s father? His stepbrother is a possible suspect?
Cami struggled to keep her expression blank, but knew she had failed when he chuckled. “I know what you’re thinking. I was surprised, too. What’s the son of a billionaire doing at a small southern university in the middle of the country? I asked around, and the university has an outstanding graphic arts school. Apparently, that's what the kid was studying, but he didn't last long. From the people we talked to, Trey didn’t enjoy small town life.”
“You’ve already followed this lead.” Her ribs squeezed her lungs so tight it hurt to breathe.
“It didn’t sit right with the investigators that Crawford was her last known call, and then the family left town the next morning. However, between the alibi and what people who roomed with the kid said, that was the plan all along. His leaving was just a coincidence.”
“Did Matt admit he’d talked to Amy?”
“He said she called wanting a ride, and he said no. A real charmer.” The detective shook his head. “I really do need to go.” He walked toward his truck and then stopped. “Next time you’re in town, let’s be sure to get that dinner.”
Cami forced a smile as she walked to her car. The detective was definitely interested, but that was the least of her problems at the moment. Yes, Mark Barlow was attractive and intelligent, and seemed to respect what she did. But there were none of the butterflies or swooping sensations she should be feeling.
Why couldn’t she like the nice, stable guy instead of dreaming about the grumpy, emotionally-stunted, sex god?
One who had somehow just become involved in her investigation.
She sighed, noting her low gas gauge, and stopped at the gas station across the street. Cami had just clicked the lever holding the nozzle in place when a pickup truck squealed into the parking lot and slammed on its brakes, blocking her car in.
An obviously irate, burly young man jumped out and rushed towards her. Cami instinctively jumped back, tripping on the gas hose being held in place by the safety mechanism. She grabbed for her car door as she tumbled to the ground, her shoulder and arms taking the brunt of the fall against the raised concrete around the pump. Pain blossomed, and she moaned.
The young man loomed over her, but seemed stymied as she struggled to her feet. Damn it! Her taser was in her purse on the front seat of the car.
“Hey!” A man at a nearby pump yelled, and two bystanders rushed toward them. One man shoved the pickup driver hard in the chest, pushing him back as the others helped her up.
“Are you all right, Ma’am?” one of them asked, as she brushed at her dirty clothes. Her hands stung, and her arm was definitely going to have bruises, but she wasn’t seriously injured.
Her attention was on the man still yelling at her, even as the good Samaritan held him back.
“Leave my wife the fuck alone!” he roared. His face contorted with anger.
Cami gaped at him. “I don’t know who you are.”
“Yeah, right,” he fumed. “You’ve been calling my wife every day harassing her.”
The men who had come to her rescue now turned their suspicious looks on her.
“She’s pregnant and doesn’t need this stress. Y’all come down here trying to stir up all kinds of trouble?—”
Understanding dawned. “Your wife is Jenelle Dixon.”
His eyes burned into her, his chest rising and falling with his agitation.
“I don’t want to cause her any stress. I only want to give her an opportunity to tell her side of the story.”
The loud thunk, signaling her gas tank was full, sounded beside her, and one of the men replaced the nozzle in the pump.
“I think it’s best if you go, Ma’am,” he said with a frown.
Cami pressed her stinging palms against her hips. She wanted to argue but knew she wouldn’t have any luck convincing Janelle’s husband with an audience watching. Now that the shock of her fall had worn off, she could see that he was more worried than angry.
“Thank you for your help, gentlemen.” Cami paused with her hand on the door handle. She had to at least try. “I understand you’re upset. I’m not trying to make your wife look bad. I’m only trying to tell Amy Hawthorne’s story.”
The startled looks on the bystanders’ faces confirmed they recognized the name.
“Ever since you said you were going to cover that girl’s murder, people are back to staring at Janelle. Whispering behind her back. She can't even go to church anymore.” The young man’s voice broke, which only seemed to infuriate him further.