Page 53 of See You Again
“I’m sorry about that, but Amy's family is suffering, too. They want to know what happened to their daughter. Maybe if Janelle tells her story, in her own words, it will help find the real killer, and you and your family can go on to live a peaceful life. The podcast is going to air regardless, and if you don’t participate, it will just lead to more speculation.”
A marked patrol car pulled into the parking lot, and two officers exited the car. “Is there a problem?” one of them asked.
“Not at all.” Cami gave him a reassuring smile. “I tripped, and these nice gentlemen were helping me.”
The good Samaritans shifted uncomfortably, but stayed silent.
The older officer narrowed his eyes at the pickup truck blocking her car. “Dixon?”
The young man looked at the officers and stepped back. “Nah. No problem.”
“Then you need to move that truck,” he ordered.
With one last dirty look at Cami, the young man climbed into the cab and backed out.
“Ms. Messina? I saw you in the station talking to Barlow. You’re doing the podcast on Amy Hawthorne’s case?”
“Yes. Thank you for your help. It was just a little misunderstanding.” Now that the action was over, the small crowd drifted away.
The police officer nodded. “Jenelle Dixon is a nice girl but her husband, Dylan, is a bit of a hothead. Just be careful when you’re in town. Feelings are still raw, and some people have short fuses.” He looked at her meaningfully.
“I understand,” Cami said with a smile. Though she wasn’t sure if the warning was intended to help her, or if it was to tell her not to push too hard. “Thanks again for your help. I better get on the road. Traffic will be a nightmare.”
Back on the highway, Cami exhaled a long stream of air. Adrenaline still pulsed through her body, making her jittery and nauseous. This was the first physical confrontation she’d had in connection to the podcast. Normally, people were happy to talk with her or Madison. Perhaps the officer was right. This case might require more delicate handling.
Cami glanced at the clock on her dashboard and winced. She was going to be cutting it close. As she glared at the line of red lights in front of her, she dialed the phone number Whitney had given her for Bobby Callahan. Might as well make use of the time.
Her phone call with Bobby lasted until she exited off the highway and picked up speed on a secondary road leading to her neighborhood. In her mind, Cami turned over what he had said. He was excited to share what he knew, and she would follow up in the morning to record his statement.
Bobby was convinced that it was a large, black SUV just past the gate that Amy had waved to. But at the time, he was more interested in the party and hadn’t watched to see if she approached the car. Leaving a quick voicemail for Mark with the new information, Cami unlocked her front door.
Now all that was left in her day was to ask her fake boyfriend if he thought his stepbrother could be a killer.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Cami’s home wasn't what James expected. Nor was the excitement fizzing through his veins as he got out of his car in the crisp evening air. Calm down, he admonished himself. This is a simple business dinner. He and Cami had an agreement. However, the thought of spending the evening with Cami affected his pulse in a way that was anything but professional.
He glanced at the pots of yellow and orange flowers arranged by the front door, his eyes lifting to the traditional façade. Somehow, James had imagined Cami in a studio apartment surrounded by restaurants and music. Not the quiet, tree-lined streets he’d followed to her address.
Her dorm room had been full of color. Indian print textiles and fairy lights covered the walls. Finding her, a decade later, in a nondescript two-story suburban house surprised him. What else about her had changed?
He smiled as the notes of a popular pop song came through the front door. A memory of sitting on Cami’s bright purple bedspread, telling her to concentrate on what she was doing because they were going to be late, flashed in his mind.
He pretended to be annoyed, but he’d enjoyed watching as she would alternately apply makeup and do a little dance while carrying on a conversation with him through the open bathroom door. His heart squeezed at the memory.
James pressed the doorbell, and when she didn’t answer, he knocked on her door loudly. The door opened, revealing a bent-in-half Cami, hopping into one heel.
Okay, maybe not everything has changed.
“Hang on one sec, I'm almost done.” She waved her arm, beckoning him in as she retreated. James took a hesitant step inside her home. The scent of cinnamon and oranges filled his nose. Cami.
“I'll be right back,” she tossed over her shoulder as she sprinted up the narrow staircase.
James took a few steps farther into the room and noted that, other than the small front room, the only other rooms on the first floor were a small sitting room, a kitchen, and a small bathroom. What struck him was that, though the footprint of the house was compact, it was immaculately clean. Not the mess he associated with her.
Her furniture was modern, but he was pleased that the throw pillows were brightly-colored prints. A grown-up version of the bundle of energy he remembered.
James stepped closer to a cluster of photographs hung on the wall in basic black and white frames. A few featured Cami with a stunning blonde woman and an infant, and several were of the same blonde woman when she and Cami were obviously younger. He recognized Madison’s face from her picture on the podcast’s social media page.