CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

Camille

 

I’ve always been a rotten liar. The hospital nurse had given me a rather dubious look when I claimed to be a relative of Debra Martinez.  She told me the patient was in surgical recovery and wouldn’t be able to receive visitors for hours, however I was welcome to wait in the lobby if I wanted to. 

There was a vending machine in the lobby and my stomach was growling because I hadn’t eaten breakfast.  I bought a bag of potato chips and a root beer and settled down in an ugly orange chair. 

My mind hadn’t really stopped racing since I left Dalton.  As I glanced around at the sad occupants of the hospital lobby I was wishing I’d taken him up on his offer to come with me.  I could tell he was worried.  Plus it was a lonely feeling trying to sort out what was true and what wasn’t on my own. 

My phone buzzed and my first thought was that I hoped Dalton was calling.  Maybe I should tell him where I was, or better yet, ask him to meet me at the diner down the road.  Suddenly I wanted desperately to see him, to be in his arms. 

I should have agreed to leave town.  Right now nothing sounded better than a few days alone with him in a place far away from here.   

But Dalton wasn’t the caller.  Earlier I’d left a voicemail for George Atwater and he was returning my call.  I shoved away blissful fantasies about waking up beside Dalton and ran outside so I could answer without anyone hearing. 

There were other things at stake, important things.  Love would just have to take a backseat to the truth for the time being. 

“I’m so glad you called me back,” I told George.  “I didn’t want to say too much on my voicemail but the owner of Wild Spring Resort is apparently claiming that Carmen Carerra was paid off and is living down in Mexico.  Now I’m not sure I believe-“ 

“Camille.”  George cut me off.  “I need to tell you that I received word from a private investigator I hired to track down Carmen.  She has indeed chosen to go on an extended vacation down in Puerto Vallarta, funded by parties unknown.  She seemed surprised to be the object of so much interest and has expressed plans to remain in Mexico until something more exciting comes along.” 

“Oh,” I said, slightly surprised to hear that Griffin Sullivan had told Dalton the truth about Carmen after all.  “But what about Anders?”

He sounded angry.  “Carmen claims she was mistaken about Congressman Anders and came across no evidence of any wrongdoing.” 

“That sounds implausible,” I said. 

“Of course it does.” 

“So what now?”

He sighed.  “Now the mystery of Carmen Carerra is over, as is her freelance writing career after this stunt.  And I predict Jeff Anders will enjoy a successful campaign for governor.” 

“That’s bullshit,” I blurted. 

“That’s politics,” George reminded me.

The conversation ended on a better note.  George wished me well and reminded me to reach out when I was finished with school and ready for a full time position. 

I returned to the waiting room but suddenly there didn’t seem to be much reason for me to be there.  Carmen was definitely safe.  She might be an asshole for causing all this drama, but she was safe.  And it sounded like she had no intention of telling whatever she knew about Anders as long as he kept her living in the lap of luxury. 

There was still Debra.  Debra was somewhere in this hospital recovering from a possible suicide attempt, presumably because she was distraught over her breakup with Anders.  It was a sad story but it wouldn’t be the first time a politician was caught in a sex scandal.  Such things were barely even newsworthy at this point.  So that just left a tragic young woman who was probably in a lot of pain and doing her best to recover.  Barging into her room this morning wouldn’t do her any favors. 

I tossed my empty bag of chips in the trash and exited the hospital. 

Once I was in my car I felt foolish.  My phone buzzed but I ignored it.  I hadn’t handled anything with maturity or grace.  I’d embarrassed both Dalton and myself at the club last night.  I’d pushed him away this morning when all he wanted was to be with me, to help me find whatever I was looking for.  I knew it hurt him to let me drive away today but he’d done it instead of acting like some dictatorial brute that believes his woman needed to be locked safely away like a porcelain doll.  We respected each other and that was important.

I needed to go to him.  I needed to tell him things I hadn’t told him yet.  How much he meant to me.  How badly I wanted to be with him. 

 As I drove down the road I glanced to my right, as I always did when I drove this stretch, because my father’s tattoo parlor was just north of the intersection.  Scratch and I had grown up together.  I thought of the place as more than a business.  It was a member of the family.  I smiled as I searched for a glimpse of the familiar sign that had been proudly designed by my talented father many years ago. 

“What the hell,” I exclaimed. 

I couldn’t believe what I’d seen.  But I’d driven by so quickly.  I had to make a U-turn so I could take another look. 

I’d been right the first time.  Dalton’s very distinctive 1969 Chevy pickup truck was sitting in the parking lot. 

For a confusing moment I wondered if he was just here to get a tattoo.  After all, he was already sporting some ink of his own and had once mentioned he wanted more.  But this would have been a strange day for him to pick to seek out a new tattoo.  He had to be here for another reason.  

I wasn’t going to get anywhere by wondering so I promptly pulled into the Scratch parking lot and walked right through the front doors. 

“Hey Aspen, where’s my dad?” I asked, starting to piece together why Dalton might have felt a visit to my father was necessary. 

Aspen blinked beneath her blue hair.  “I think he’s in a meeting in his office.” 

I marched down the hall toward the last door on the right.  I paused and listened for a second, hearing a low rumble of indistinguishable male voices. 

I knocked but then opened the door myself before anyone had a chance to answer.  Any words I was going to say kind of died on my tongue at the strange sight in front of me. 

The first thing I saw was my father’s back but when he heard the door open he turned to look at me. When he did I was able to see the other occupants of the room. 

Dalton and Uncle Creed were seated in neighboring chairs as if they were about to play a game of cards.  Uncle Chase craned his neck to see who was at the door.  And my father broke into a broad smile at the sight of me standing there. 

“Cami,” he said and I heard the relief in his voice. 

But why would he be worried in the first place? I’d told him nothing. 

“What’s going on?” I asked the room but really I was asking Dalton.  “You guys having a tea party or something?” 

Dalton stood up.  My father glanced at him and I saw the look they exchanged, like they understood each other.  Like they were on the same side. 

Dalton crossed the room and my father stepped away from the door so Dalton could approach me. 

“Hey, beautiful.”  He reached for my hand. 

I held back.  “Why are you here?  Why are my uncles here?” 

Dalton rubbed the back of his neck, looking slightly embarrassed.  “I ran into one of Anders’s thugs this morning.  He’d been watching you and that scared the shit out of me. You didn’t seem to be taking the threat seriously.” 

“And so you go seek the advice of the menfolk to try and figure out how to keep me in line?”

“Camille,” my father said in a stern voice.  “Come in and sit down.” 

“No.”  I shook my head.  “No, I don’t think I’ll do that right now, Dad.  I’m not really in the mood for a lecture.  I will let you guys know you don’t need to worry about what kind of trouble little Cami has gotten herself into. The missing woman isn’t really missing.  And there won’t be any more investigative efforts to unmask the illicit activities of a certain congressman.  It’s over.  Feel free to go about your day.” 

I turned and walked away. 

Dalton followed.  “What do you mean there’s nothing to worry about anymore?”

I stopped.  I was standing in the middle of the Scratch lobby.  Two college girls in ASU shirts and a rather savage looking biker were paging through the tattoo books. 

“I mean that it was confirmed that Carmen is safe and she’s keeping any dirt she has on Anders to herself.  The paper has no leads to pursue.  So I have no reason to keep chasing my tail.  Of course Debra’s sitting in a hospital room but there’s nothing illegal about breaking someone’s heart so Anders won’t suffer any consequences for that.” 

He touched my arm.  “I’m sorry.” 

I twisted away.  “I told you we’ve been saying that too often lately.”  I crossed my arms and glared up at him. “What the hell made you think it was a good idea to go running to my father?  To my uncles?  Why couldn’t you just trust that I knew exactly what I was doing?” 

Everyone in the lobby was looking at us now.  My father and his two brothers had emerged from the office and were filing in our direction, a parade of unsmiling Gentrys.   

“Because you really didn’t know what you were doing,” Dalton insisted.  “And you weren’t listening to me.”

My voice rose. “I’m not required to listen to you, Dalton Tremaine.  And I’m not required to do as you say.” 

He was angry now.  “For god’s sakes, Cami, don’t you know I’d do anything to keep you from getting hurt?  You can be pissed off.  Hell, you can fucking slap me if you feel like it.  But I’d do the same thing again.  Because short of hauling you away by the hair and putting you under lock and key, there were no other options.  I wasn’t going to risk anything happening to you.  And believe me, sweetheart, I was prepared to do a lot more than talk to your father.” 

I hadn’t seen this side of him before, this aggressively protective side.  The fierce look in his eyes was almost primitive.  I half expected him to start beating his chest. I should have been annoyed.  And yet I was torn.  I was torn because he was right that I had been acting irresponsibly.  And because I was touched to hear how much he cared. 

“Dalton,” I said but my voice cracked. 

He didn’t touch me.  He looked me right in the eye and said, “I love you, dammit.”   

I didn’t know what I expected him to say but I wasn’t expecting that.  Aspen stared.  The college girls stared.  The biker stared.  My dad and my uncles stared. 

“Don’t tell me that right now,” I whispered.  “Don’t tell me that in here.” 

“Does it matter where I tell you, how I tell you?”  Without warning he pulled me close and kissed me hard in spite of the watching audience.  I was so surprised I didn’t resist.     

Then he backed away and looked into my eyes one more time.  “I love you, Camille Gentry,” he said and then he left.  He just left.  He didn’t wait to hear what I had to say. I wasn’t sure I could talk right now anyway.  I leaned against a nearby chair for support. 

My father’s voice was right beside me.  “Cams?” 

I looked up into his concerned blue eyes and then saw their mirrors right behind him in his brothers. 

“I’m fine, Dad,” I said.  “I’m fine.” 

But I wasn’t really fine.  I was going to cry.  There was no reason to cry.  I’d just heard the words I most wanted to hear from the person I most wanted to hear them from.  But I was going to cry just the same. 

Instead of blubbering on my father’s shoulder in his place of business I left.  I got into my car and calmly drove three blocks before pulling into a drug store parking lot.  Whipping out my phone, I called the one person in the world who had always understood me, the person who I sometimes suspected knew how I was feeling even before I did. 

“I need you,” I said, unable to stifle the emotion in my voice. 

Cassie didn’t hesitate.  “I’m coming.”