Page 10 of Mile High Mystery

“I’m glad I could help.” That wasn’t the first time she had had to notify someone that their loved one was dead, but it was the only time the people in question had to hear the news twice, four years apart. “Your parents are wonderful people,” she said. “I would completely understand if they were bitter, but they weren’t at all.”

“Yeah. I don’t know how they manage to stay so strong.”

“I told your mom that Camille was one of the bravest, strongest people I knew and that she always said she got those strengths from her parents.” She sank back in the seat and sipped her coffee, telling herself she needed to relax. The worst of this day was over. But a flash in the side mirror distracted her, and she glanced over, then sat up straight.

“What is it?” Zach asked, his voice sharp.

Her stomach tightened. Maybe she was wrong, but she didn’t think so. “That Toyota is back,” she said.

Zach started to turn his head. “Don’t look back,” she said. “Don’t let them know we’ve spotted them.”

He checked his mirrors. “Even if that is the same car, it doesn’t mean they’re following us,” he said.

“No.” She forced herself to settle back against the seat. To look relaxed, even if she was anything but. “Don’t signal, but make a sharp right up ahead, then another right to go back one block.”

He did as she asked, braking at the last moment and swinging hard into the turn. She heard the squeal of tires as the Toyota followed. “Can you tell who’s driving?” he asked.

“No. I still can’t see anything. Take the next left.”

He turned the corner, which led to a neighborhood of narrow, curving streets. He headed up a hill and pulled into the parking lot of a church. “What are you doing?” she asked, alarmed.

“If they’re following us, I’m going to confront them.”

She grabbed his arm. “That is a very bad idea.” She unfastened her seat belt and drew her weapon. Whoever was in that car might spray them with bullets before she had a chance to return fire, but she wasn’t going to confront them unarmed.

Chapter Four

They waited in the church parking lot for fifteen minutes, but there was no sign of the Toyota. Was the vehicle parked somewhere on the street, waiting for them to exit? “Should we call 911 or something?” Zach asked.

“We could,” she said. And then what? Would the local cops even believe they were being followed? She wasn’t sure Zach believed it. “Pull out and see if anyone follows,” she said.

Zach blew out a breath. “I feel ridiculous,” he said. He started the engine and pulled out of the lot onto the street. No one followed. There was little traffic on the highway, and the vehicles she did see behaved normally, passing them or turning off or receding into the distance.

Neither of them spoke. Was Zach annoyed with her? No, he was probably simply processing his grief and the terrible way this day had turned out.

He parked in front of his townhouse, but didn’t get out right away. She waited, sure he would eventually say whatever was on his mind. “Do you really think someone was following us tonight?” he asked.

“I do.”

He turned to look at her. The parking lot security light cast a harsh glow across one side of his face, turning it into a macabre mask, all dark, hollowed eyes and downturned mouth. “Why?”

“You may be the only one who can answer that,” she said. “What do you know that the Chalk brothers would kill to keep quiet?”

“Nothing!”

The word rang loud in the nighttime stillness. Was he telling the truth? “Maybe it’s something you’ve forgotten about,” she said, her voice softer. “Or something you don’t think is important. Whatever it is, you need to tell me, so that I can help you.”

He shook his head. “I don’t think anyone can help me. Camille is dead.” He blew out a breath. “And the worst thing is, she died for nothing. All she wanted was to make a difference. To bring the Chalk brothers to justice. But that didn’t happen. She’s dead, and they’re still walking free.”

“She didn’t die for nothing,” Shelby said.

He looked at her, the trick of light exaggerating the dark hollowness of his eyes. But she felt that same hollowness in her chest. Like him, she wanted the sacrifice Camille had made to matter. But that depended on her now. She needed to prove Camille hadn’t died in vain. But she didn’t know if she was up to the task.

She opened the truck door and slid out. “Good night, Zach,” she said. “I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”

He didn’t answer. She walked to her rental car and got in, but she waited until he climbed out of his truck and went inside his townhouse before she started the engine and left the lot. No sign of a white Toyota. No sign of any threat to him, but she couldn’t shake the feeling one was there.

INSIDETHETOWNHOUSE, Zach lay back on the sofa and closed his eyes, battered by warring emotions. After four years, he had thought he was mostly done grieving for his sister, only to learn she had been alive all that time, only to be snatched away from him again when she had been almost in reach. The cruelty of that reality burned in his chest, along with anger that he and his parents, and all of Camille’s friends, had been duped.

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