The Dying Breath (12 page)

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Authors: Alane Ferguson

BOOK: The Dying Breath
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“Your mammaw can hear every word. I want to talk to you privately. Can we shut your door?”
She shook her head. “Sorry. House rules—no guys allowed in my room with the door closed. My dad’s kind of a stickler that way. He’s going to be home any minute now. . . .” Again she realized how young her words sounded. Well, she’d be eighteen in a week. Maybe then she could renegotiate.
If Justin minded what she said he didn’t let it show. Instead he just smiled his slow smile that made Cameryn guess he actually approved of her father’s strictness. “Okay, then can we go anywhere that’s a bit more, let’s say, confidential?”
Cameryn bit the edge of her lip. “Andrew told me I’m not supposed to leave the premises.”
“Then how about that glider?” Justin asked. “I saw your pop left it up. I can brush off the snow and we can talk there. It’s still”—he made air quotes—“ ‘on the premises.’ And just in case you’re still worried about leaving the safety of these four walls . . .” Justin pulled back his jacket to reveal the metal handle of a Glock pistol. “Actually, I hope Kyle comes around. It will make everything a lot easier.”
Cameryn looked over at her desk and her computer, deciding. “Okay,” she said. “Let me grab my BlackBerry.”
Shoving the BlackBerry into the back pocket of her jeans, she followed him, her hand reaching for his as they descended the steps. Justin’s palm, always calloused, felt warm in hers, and for a moment she was tempted to let down her guard. But his smile belied a sort of uneasiness—she could sense it in him. Well, he could do his worst and she wouldn’t change her mind. Long ago she’d learned to stand up for herself and she wasn’t about to change now.
“I’ve got to get my coat,” she said. “It’s in the closet. You get to tell Mammaw we’re going outside.”
“Oh, so you want me to break the news so that
I
can take the bullet.”
“Yep.” Cameryn grinned. “Don’t worry, you’ve already charmed her. She’s baking again—Valentine sugar cookies. Try to snag us a couple if you can.”
The closet was bursting with coats of all shapes and sizes. Cameryn was glad Justin couldn’t see how unorganized the Mahoneys really were, at least when it came to their undersized closets. Her grandmother’s coat made from lamb’s wool jammed up against her father’s heavy parkas and down vests, which were in turn compressed against Cameryn’s snowboarding pants and summer jackets. Snow boots had been placed in a line, one next to the other, in a formation so tight they looked like bowling pins. She found her tan and brown pair from L.L. Bean and tugged them on, then slipped into her coat, pausing just long enough to catch a glimpse of herself in the entryway mirror.
Oh, great,
she said to herself. Her hair was impossible, mostly because she’d given it only a cursory brushing that morning and now it sprung from her head like tree roots. It wasn’t just her hair that was out of control. Her skin was pale, and dark smudges shadowed the area beneath her eyes. She looked . . . haunted. For a fleeting moment she thought of pinching her cheeks, a fast way, her grandmother once told her, to “bring back the roses,” but decided against it.
A small shelf beneath the mirror contained knickknacks. Among the various keys and paper clips she found a cinnamon ChapStick, an elastic, and a peppermint wrapped in cellophane. As fast as she could, Cameryn pulled up her hair and yanked it through the elastic at the base of her neck, applied a thin coat of ChapStick, and popped the mint into her mouth. Well, it was something, she told herself, and the best she could do.
“Hey, are you coming, Cammie?” Justin called from the kitchen.
“Yeah,” she said, zipping her coat to her chin and digging her gloves from the pockets. She, at least, was aware of how cold February air could get high in the mountains. When she stepped into their kitchen she drank in the vanilla smell. Her grandmother was squeezing a pastry bag filled with red frosting.
“These look like they were made in a bakery.”
Mammaw, who had a smudge of flour on her face, glanced up at Justin and smiled like a schoolgirl. “There’re just cookies, plain and simple. Off with you now,” she said, shooing both of them through the door. “And don’t stay out too long, it’s about to get dark. A hat, Cammie,” her grandmother called out after them, a dictum Cameryn chose not to hear. She looked at the large thermometer that had been nailed to the outside wall of their house. The temperature read seventeen degrees.
“Your mammaw really gets into the holidays,” Justin said, gingerly holding two heart-shaped cookies on a napkin balanced on the palm of his hand. The paving stones that led to the glider were buried beneath a layer of snow, but her father had shoveled a path that led to the back of the house. The snow on either side of them was three feet high, so they had to walk single file. Justin led the way.
“Unfortunately, we have decorations for
every
occasion. You should see what she does for St. Patrick’s Day—green pancakes, green beer. Personally, I think the whole ‘holiday cheer’ thing can get a bit cheesy.”
“We had too many kids in my family for my mom to have time to decorate or bake or do any of that kind of thing. Everything came from a box. For a while there I thought Sara Lee was my aunt.”
“Well, I can’t cook, so don’t get your hopes up. The cooking gene is one I did
not
inherit. No baking, no nothing. Nada.”
“I’m a big boy. I know how to open a can.”
They stopped in front of the glider. Behind it, a clutch of aspen stretched out bare arms, their tissuelike bark studded with knotholes. “By the way,” Cameryn said, suddenly serious, “am I being watched? Right now, I mean.”
“Yeah,” Justin nodded. “They’re out there.”
“I guess I’m glad. I mean, I want to be safe. But it feels kind of . . . weird. I hate being spied on. I’ll be so happy when this is all over.”
“That’s actually what I wanted to talk to you about.” His tone had shifted and there was something new in his voice that made her nervous. He cocked his head as he looked down at her, his eyes narrowing. She could tell he was searching for the right words for what he’d come to say. “Maybe we should sit,” he suggested. With his bare hand Justin began to brush off the glider, still carefully holding the cookies in the other.
“I’ve got gloves on—let me do that. I’m not helpless,” Cameryn told him as she scooped an armful of powder onto the cement below.
“No. You’re not.” She heard it again, the flint in his voice.
“So what’s the big secret that you’re sure I’ll say no to?” she asked, facing him once more. His thick-heeled boots made him even taller so that he loomed above her. His eyes had darkened to the color of water before a storm. He hesitated.
“Justin—what is it?”
“All right, I’ll just say it. I don’t want you to be a part of the investigation.” He set the cookies on the edge of the glider, then placed a hand on each of her shoulders. “It’s not safe for you and I think—no, I’m
sure
—it’s wrong for you to be involved. I know you’re doing this because Kyle threatened me, but he can’t hurt me. Look, I’m asking you to drop the case. I’m asking you to drop it for me.”
She raised her chin just a little, making sure her eyes stayed locked on his. Well, she’d guessed this was coming. “Tempting, but no,” she said.
“Cammie! Just listen for once. You don’t understand—”
“I
do
understand and the answer is no.
No!
”
“But you can’t say no before you hear me out.”
“I just did. No, no, and no.”
“Talking with Kyle, egging him on in any way—it’s just dangerous.” There was a new heat to his voice, but Cameryn shook her head with every word he spoke.
“My dad says I can do it. Andrew thinks I can help—”
“Your father is a coroner, not a lawman, and the agent’s main concern is catching Kyle, not protecting you. My number one priority is keeping you safe. There’s a difference.” He squeezed her shoulders but she pulled away. A thousand feelings were crowding inside her and she wasn’t sure she could sort them all out, not with him looking at her the way he was, guilty and sure of himself all at once.
Justin rubbed the back of his neck. “You want to keep me safe and I want to keep you safe. We’re both stubborn, aren’t we?”
“Yes.”
“I guess there’s a lot we need to learn about each other. Here’s something you should know about me: I will do whatever it takes. So you might as well hear the worst of it.”
“There’s more?” She crossed her arms over her chest and took a step back. She did not like this conversation. “What did you do?”
He seemed to waver a moment. “I went to Durango and talked to Dr. Moore.” A breath, and then he exhaled slowly, creating a frosty plume. “I told him what was going on and . . . I asked him to help me talk you out of this crazy scheme.”
Cameryn stared at him, for a moment too stunned to speak. Finally, she managed to ask, “Why?”
“Because you respect the guy and I figured he’s the only one you might listen to. You’re still a minor, Cammie, even if it’s just for a few days. The feds should not have asked you to do this. The doc understands exactly who these FBI goons are asking you to play with and how high the stakes are—”
“You did
what
?” There was a feeling rising above the rest. It was anger. It shot up her spine and exploded in her head and she could feel her nostrils flare as she cried, “How could you—Dr. Moore is my mentor and—you, what did you say, that I’m just some little kid who couldn’t handle it? He’s going to think . . . you had no right, Justin!” Her words tumbled out of her mouth before she could line them up properly so that they made sense. But even though her thoughts were fragmented, Justin seemed to be able to follow her intent well enough.
“Calm down, Cammie!”
“I
hate
it when people tell me to calm down. Since we’re learning new things about each other you ought to know that. And by the way, if I’m old enough for you to date, I’m certainly old enough to make my own decisions.
Why
did you talk to Dr. Moore?”
“I already told you.”
She almost stomped her foot. “That is so bloody patronizing. This is my decision, not yours.”
“I thought it could be
ours
!” he said, matching her heat. “This is what
I
do. Could you give me just a little credit here? I understand the law. I know the criminal mind. And I’m asking you to respect that and walk away from this case. Cameryn, don’t let Kyle’s threat against me get into your head. He can’t hurt me but he
can
hurt you. I’m asking you to do this one thing for me.” He was pleading now.
“I already told you. No.”
“Cammie, come
on
!”
She swore under her breath and turned away, but his hand was on her arm and he pulled her around to face him again. He seemed to be straining to keep his voice even. She had never seen him angry like this, at least not with anger directed her way. Or was it fear? She couldn’t tell and she didn’t care. A gust of wind blew against her back, causing the bare twigs of aspen to shiver overhead. The wind wound its way up Justin’s arms and into his hair, lifting the locks gently before setting them down again, and beyond that she saw a spray of ice crystals that blew over the cookies, blotting out the pink frosting her mammaw had carefully written in scroll.
“For the record, Dr. Moore agreed with me. He thinks the FBI is way out of line.”
“Oh, so you got him on your side. Good for you.” Her heart was pumping so hard she didn’t feel the need for her coat. One single idea beat through her: just because he’d kissed her, Justin Crowley thought he was entitled to run her life. Did he really think that four years’ seniority allowed him to make choices for her? Was that what her grandmother had tried to warn her about—that the one who was older had more power? So, he got Dr. Moore on his side. Checkmate. Only what Justin failed to understand was he’d just lost the game.
“Stop staring at me and say something,” Justin demanded.
“I have one question. Did you screw things up between me and Dr. Moore?”
He looked confused. “What are you talking about?”
“Stop. Just . . . stop.” She peeled his hand from her elbow and took a step back. She could not believe how cold she sounded. “Dr. Moore asked me to come to Durango and look over the Safer case. Does he still want me to help him, or did you convince him I’m just a ‘minor’ who can’t even think?”
“One thing doesn’t have anything to do with the other.”
“Just answer my question. Please.”
“Fine.” His voice had turned as cold as the air. “Dr. Moore still wants you to come down tomorrow, if that’s what you’re asking.”
“That’s what I’m asking. You screwed me over to make a point. I don’t like people going behind my back, Justin.” She was mad enough that the next words came out of her mouth before she had time to think them through. “For me that’s a deal breaker.”
Justin’s eyes flashed. “Don’t you think you’re being just a little bit melodramatic? Using words like
deal breaker
when we’ve just barely gotten started.”

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