Chapter Thirty-Two

Cameron

I stretched my arms and hit the wall. I was not used to such a small bed. My mom had put a full-size bed in her office space to accommodate me, which I greatly appreciated, but I wasn’t a small man. I felt like a giant sleeping in a shoe box.

I rolled out of bed, ignoring the morning wood that had sprung to life. It was way too common now. Every morning, my first thought was of Scarlett. That led to thoughts of me and her in bed together and my dick stirred to life.

“Not going to happen,” I muttered.

I headed for the shower, tempted to rub one out, but the thought of being in my parents’ house was enough to make me go soft. That was way too much like being fifteen and horny as hell all the damn time. I finished showering and ambled into the dining room that opened into the kitchen.

Ella was at the table finishing her breakfast when I emerged. My mother was at the stove making eggs.

“Your breakfast is almost done,” she said in a cheery voice.

I didn’t want breakfast. Or more specifically, I didn’t want my mom making me breakfast in her housecoat like she’d done for eighteen years. I hated feeling like I had been tossed back in time and relied on my mommy to take care of me.

Instead of disappointing her, I sat at the table next to Ella and waited like a good boy for my eggs to be served. My mom delivered two plates and sat down with us at the table. I knew she enjoyed having us stay with them. She liked the idea of taking care of a family again; she had told me on several occasions. I had a feeling she would get tired of it soon enough. I’d been out of the house a long time, and I knew she and my dad had their own routine.

“Thank you for breakfast, Mom. I do appreciate it, but you don’t have to go out of your way for me. I don’t usually eat breakfast.”

“Well, you need a morning meal. It gives you energy for the day.” Once again, I was transported back in time to when I was sixteen and trying to rush off to school without breakfast.

“I know, I know,” I mumbled.

“I ate all my breakfast, Grandma!” Ella announced with pride.

“Good girl! At least one of you listens,” my mother muttered as she headed for the kitchen.

“Are you ready to go?” I asked the little traitor.

She eagerly nodded her head. “Yep!”

“I’ll see you later, Mom. I’m going to meet with the insurance company and run a few errands.”

She gave me a quick hug and planted a big smacking kiss on Ella’s cheek.

Once I got Ella dropped off, I headed to the station. I was off work for the day, but I wanted to check in on the status of those DNA results. I knew the guys were sick of seeing me and I was bordering on being a real nuisance, but I had to know.

My phone rang as I climbed the stairs to the second floor. It was the investigator working my case.

“I’ll be there in two seconds,” I said and hung up before jogging the rest of the way to the office.

“How did I know you would show up here?” he said with a grim look on his face when I pushed through his office door without knocking.

“What’d you find?” I asked, not interested in hearing anything else.

“Not a lot, unfortunately. The DNA traces back to a guy in the system.”

“That’s great news! Who?” I practically shouted, anxious to get the evidence I needed to put Isaac in prison for a long time.

“Take a breath, Cam. His name is Jerry Smith. The name ring any bells?”

I shook my head. That couldn’t be right. It was Isaac. I knew it was Isaac who had started the fire. Maybe Isaac was using a fake name. My mind raced with the various possibilities that would put Isaac on the scene. He could have been living a double life. Scarlett knew him as Isaac, but his real name was Jerry Smith. That had to be it.

“You’re sure?” I asked, not quite ready to wrap my mind around the name.

The investigator held up a piece of paper. “DNA doesn’t lie.”

“Who is he?” I asked, my thoughts jumbled.

The guy shrugged. “I don’t know. I thought you would know. Here’s his mug shot,” he said, holding up a picture.

I studied the picture carefully, scrutinizing every detail of the man’s face. “I don’t know who that is.”

“Well, you may not know him, but he knows you, and apparently he doesn’t like you.”

“He’s in the system?” I asked again, trying to make sense of it all. I had been so convinced it was Isaac, my brain refused to believe there was another man out there who hated me enough to torch my house.

“Yep. We’ve already issued a warrant for his arrest. His last known address is unknown. The arrest record showed he was homeless. It’s going to be tough to track him down, but we will,” he said with confidence. “Now that we know who we’re looking for, we can focus our investigation.”

“I don’t know the name,” I said, hating that I didn’t. I felt like I should have. “You’re sure that’s the guy?”

He took a deep breath. I knew I was irritating him, but I was at a loss.

“I suggest going through your arrest records over the past year or so. This guy was picked up a long time ago. You weren’t the arresting officer. He served a few days in jail, got out on bail, and skipped out on his court date. It doesn’t make sense he would go after you, unless you had a recent run-in with him. He probably used a different name.”

“What was he busted for?” I asked, hoping to stir a memory.

“Burglary, which led to an additional assault on a law enforcement officer charge. He has a felony warrant for failure to appear for those charges.”

“Definitely wasn’t me. I would have remembered that. Thanks, man. I know I’ve been a pain in your ass. I’m going to start digging into my old arrest records and see if I remember anything. The face is unfamiliar. Even if a perp had given me a fake name, I don’t think I’d forget that face. Look at those eyes. That is one scary dude,” I said, staring at the picture and committing it to memory.

I left, my mind whirring as I searched my mental files, trying to remember if I had ever seen that man. I was confident I hadn’t. If I saw him now, though, it would be a different story. Those eyes were unforgettable.

I secured a computer and started searching. I googled the man’s name and came up empty. After about an hour of searching, a thought occurred to me. I had been wrong. Dead wrong. I had fucked up.

I grabbed my phone and immediately called Scarlett. She didn’t answer. It was then I remembered she would be at work. I sent her a text, asking her to meet me for lunch. She needed to know it wasn’t her ex, and I felt like I owed her a big fat apology.

Maybe the restraining order had worked. I had checked every day, and there had been no calls about him violating the order. I knew Scarlett would report anything. It had been almost a week, and there had been nothing from the guy.

“Shit,” I mumbled under my breath.

My phone beeped, and I checked the text, eager to see what time I could pick up Scarlett. My eagerness quickly turned to disappointment as I read her response.

She wasn’t going to lunch with me. She claimed to have a meeting. That was fine, understandable.

How about dinner? I sent the text and waited, holding the phone in my hand.

Busy.

“Fuck!” I grumbled.

She wasn’t busy. She was blowing me off. I had pissed her off, and now she didn’t want to talk to me. I wanted to make things right between us. The only way to do that was to talk to her.

Tomorrow? I asked, feeling like a fool for practically begging her to meet with me.

I waited for several long minutes. Just when I thought she wasn’t going to text me back, the phone beeped.

No. Not the next day either. There’s nothing left to say.

It was my own fault. I had jumped to conclusions. She was understandably mad. If I gave her a few days to cool off, maybe she would decide to talk to me.

I put the situation out of my mind and started to go through my arrest records. It was a tedious search, and my eyes were feeling the strain as I looked at mug shot after mug shot. I already knew the name wasn’t going to be there. They had already searched the record base.

Who the hell was this guy?

I began to wonder if it was a disgruntled neighbor or maybe some other incident that had made this guy hate me. Maybe I had slept with his girlfriend. I closed my eyes, racking my brain to put the name to some episode in my life. Nothing was coming up. I highly doubted I would ever hook up with a woman who would have had anything to do with him.

I stared at his picture on the screen. His beady eyes stared back.

“I’m going to find you, you little fucker. You can run, but I will track you down,” I whispered to the screen.

My search had been fruitless. I had wasted half my day and needed to get to the insurance office. I was supposed to be getting an estimate on what they were willing to cover for the price of the home. I wasn’t in the mood to be yanked around. They had better be fair, or shit was going to hit the fan.

I drove to the insurance company, my eyes constantly scanning the faces of the drivers in the cars on the road and people walking down the street. I was going to find that man. I had to.

My meeting with the adjustor and claims rep went smoothly. They expected to have things moving along within the next week or two. It looked like I would get a fair price for my home. Now I needed to decide if I wanted to rebuild or move on.

My insurance covered a rental, but there was no way I was going to do that to Ella. The stability of my parents’ house was what she needed at the moment, even if I hated living at home. It made me feel like a kid again. Eating dinner on occasion with my mom and dad was cool, but living with them, not so much. I had to figure out something quick.

I drove around for a while, scanning the streets, looking for the man I wanted to get my hands on. I was bored and had nothing better to do. If I was at home, I’d be doing laundry, cleaning up, or taking care of the little things like grocery shopping or something. Living with my parents was driving me crazy in all kinds of ways.

I killed time until it was time to pick Ella up from school. The last thing I wanted to do was sit with my parents at home all day. At least with Ella there, it was a nice distraction.