Page 34 of Mile High Mystery

“The night that changed her life,” he said. “Still, I probably wouldn’t have figured out her password.”

“The two of us spent a lot of time together. I knew how she thought.” About some things, anyway. She hadn’t realized Camille planned to leave WITSEC and head to Colorado until it was too late.

She opened a file labeled MeOhMy. “This was the first thing that caught my attention.” She angled the computer so Zach could read the screen. “She’s keeping kind of a journal here. This first entry explains her intentions. Read it, then I’ll take you to the entry I need your help with.”

She reread the entry along with Zach:I’m starting this journal as a place to write down my thoughts and maybe make sense of some things. I figure it’s better to put it here than on paper. If I write for long, my hand cramps, and if I need to, I can easily erase this file and even destroy the whole computer. Phillip showed me how to do that, in a way that no data can be discovered.

“Who’s Phillip?” Zach asked.

“He was the marshal she was involved with. None of the entries are dated, but move to the third entry.”

He scrolled down to the entry in question:I watched an interview online with Charlie Chalk. It was an old one, filmed not long after his and Christopher’s trial ended, but I had never seen it before. Something he said made my blood freeze. He said, “There were other people involved that night, and they’re the ones who will pay.”

I kept running the video back to replay that part. Maybe he was trying to imply that someone else—a third person—killed Judge Hennessey. That’s what his defense team said all along. But Charlie knows that isn’t true. So maybe he meant someone else was there that night. And the Chalk brothers are the ones who will make that person pay.

Claude, are you safe? Do you even know how to be safe? I’ve learned so much in the past four years. Mostly what I’ve learned is how naive I was before. I thought I had taken care of everything, but maybe I was wrong.

“Who is Claude?” she asked.

He shook his head. “I don’t know.”

But he wouldn’t meet her gaze, and his face had lost most of its color. She carefully set the laptop aside and angled toward him. “Don’t lie to me, Zach. I’m being honest with you. I didn’t have to share any of this with you, but I did. All I ask is the same consideration in turn.”

He stood, everything in his body language telling her he wanted to flee. “She didn’t have any friends or coworkers named Claude.” He shoved his hands in his jeans pockets and stared at the floor.

“There are other entries in here where the names have obviously been changed,” Shelby said. She struggled to keep her voice even, though she wanted to shout at him that she wasn’t oblivious—and that he was a terrible liar. “I thinkClaudeis a code name, or maybe a nickname. And I think you know who she’s talking about. Whose safety is she so worried about, and why?”

He stiffened, hands knotted in fists, jaw tightening, doing battle with himself. She waited, silently willing him to trust her with the truth. After a long, tense moment, he blew out a breath. “She called me Claude sometimes,” he said. “There’s a bear at the Houston Zoo with that name, and she teased me that I looked like him. But I don’t know why she was worried about me.”

“That’s a sweet story, not an embarrassing one,” she said. “Thank you for telling me.”

He still looked miserable. Out of proportion for what had been a pretty innocuous revelation. “What about the other stuff she wrote?” he asked. “Do the Chalk brothers think someone else was at the restaurant the night Judge Hennessey was killed? Are they telling the truth about a third man who was the actual murderer?”

“We’ve looked into the theory and found nothing to support it.” She stood and went to face him. She needed to ask the question she should have asked long before now. “We know Shelby’s car was in the shop for repairs the night Judge Hennessey was murdered,” she said. “One of her coworkers said that you sometimes picked her up from work when her car wasn’t available.”

“She took the bus,” he said. “She told you that.”

“That’s what she told us, but is it true? Did you pick her up from Britannia that night? Were you there? Did you see what happened? Is that why Camille was so worried about you? She heard the Chalk brothers were saying someone else was there that night and vowing to make that person pay? Were you that person?”

He grimaced as if in physical pain. “I didn’t see the murder,” he said. “I was waiting for her outside.”

Some part of her had known this would be his answer. “All those times Camille insisted that she was alone at Britannia that night never rang all the way true for me,” she said. “She put such emphasis on that one fact—she was by herself, she was alone, she was the only one to hear that gunshot—it was too much. But at the time of the initial investigation, before my time with the Bureau, no one ever doubted her or bothered to collect evidence to prove or disprove her assertion.”

“She insisted that since hers was the only testimony needed to prove the Chalk brothers had murdered Judge Hennessey, there was no point putting myself in danger,” he said. “She said our parents didn’t need two children involved in that kind of danger. And...and I guess it was easier for me to agree with her.” He looked away. “She was the brave one. I was a coward, letting her face that alone.”

His pain pierced her. She took hold of his arm. “Camille wanted to do it alone,” she said. “She may have wanted to protect you and her parents, too, but I think at least part of her didn’t want to share the attention.”

His gaze met hers, and the gratitude that burned there washed over her. “You really did know her, didn’t you?”

“Yes.” She told herself she ought to let go of him, but the physical connection between them felt too good to relinquish. “Camille liked the attention and praise she got for testifying against the Chalk brothers. I don’t blame her for that. What she did was important and good. But I don’t think she wanted to share that spotlight.”

“Would it have made any difference if I had testified that I sat outside in my truck and waited for her?” he asked.

“I don’t think so.”

He put his hand over hers on his arm. He touched her hand, but she felt the sensation all through her body, warming her. Making her feel more alive. The contact only lasted a second but seemed much longer as she stared into his eyes.

Then he lifted her hand away and stepped back, breaking the contact. “I’d better go,” he said.

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