“I mean underage girls,” Camille told me. “My mother has always appeared younger than she is, and he thought he was marrying a girl. When she refused to dress like a little girl for him, he became violent and evil. It was when he brought home a schoolgirl toplaywith that she knew she had to do something. It was when he died that she discovered he was part of the same sex ring that she had been raised in. In fact, he had been a treasurer of sorts and had lists of member’s names. Can you guess where she found the names of her last four husbands?”
I knew it shouldn’t affect me like this but it did. She was doing a fucking public service to this world, but I knew without a shadow of a doubt, that on that list were some fucking big ass names that could swallow her whole.
She’d never have a day in court. She’d be locked up and murdered to keep her quiet.
“Tell her to stop. They won’t stop looking for her now, not after what she did to me, but she has the resources to go into hiding.”
“You’re alive, Detective,” Camille replied. “What could she possibly have done to you?”
“Camille, her case is on my Captain’s table. He answers to men who would have no problem taking her out and burying her death. Please, tell her to stop. Let the case go cold.”
“Why the change of heart?” she asked me. “You came here wanting to know where she was and now, because you know her story, you want to protect her?”
“I can’t put my finger on it, Camille, but I know she needs to be saved. I can’t do that if she keeps killing and dropping bodies all over my jurisdiction.”
“I’m sorry, Detective, I can’t help you,” she told me. I saw the sadness in her eyes. It wasn’t a matter of not wanting to help me, it was because she knew she couldn’t. “She won’t listen to me, she won’t listen to anyone. She won’t stop until she’s caught and then…we both know she won’t let herself be taken.”
I stood up. “Thank you for your time, Ms. Delaponte.”
She stood too, holding her hand out for me to shake. “And you. I trust your trip was insightful and please, feel free to call me Camille.”
Nodding, I cleared my throat, unable to say anything else. I could see the pain on her face at the knowledge that she probably wouldn’t see her mother again. My heart hurt for her.
I knew, all too well, the pain of losing a mother too soon.
Moving to the door, I felt as if my chest were crushing in on itself as I willed my legs to carry me to the exit. The second I was through the last glass door of the building, I sucked in a deep breath of oxygen, moving out of sight of others and trying to calm myself down.
What the hell was wrong with me?
Maurelle
Camille wasn’t home yet as I waited in her darkened living area. Her room was filled with memories of her adoptive family as well as photos of me and her through the years. She was so unlike me, always keeping mementos and memories around her.
She lived through the joy of this world.
A luxury I never got to experience.
Seeing the way she lived now proved I was right when I gave her up. I was wrong to involve myself in her life back then, she was happy, in a happy family and on the right track.
Then I had to let my emotions get in the way.
That’s why I never felt anything anymore. I couldn’t risk the attachment to this life. I was no fool. I knew my life would end and it would end soon, before the cruel and corrupt world could condemn me.
The sound of a car’s engine cutting off told me she was home.
Finally.
It was well past nine o’clock. No wonder she hadn’t found herself a family yet. She worked too damn hard.
The door opened and she threw her keys into the bowl on the bureau, dropping her bag on her recliner and kicking her heels off.
She looked exhausted.
Picking up her phone, she walked toward the light switch and flicked it on. A scream let out when she saw me, before her hand flew to her chest.
“Are you crazy?”
“Not certifiably, no,” I replied. “Never mind that, little lady, you work too hard. Why are you only coming home now?”
