“How’d you get out?”
“I was already into some shit. Friend of a friend introduced me to their crew. They took me in.”
“Just like that?”
“I’d already been told I was a slut. An abomination. I did what I had to.”
“I was told I was weak.” Self-esteem trampled by his father, would Nic have done the same if he hadn’t already known the love of a good man? Of a good woman who’d put herself on the line for him? If he hadn’t passed that enlistment office every day?
“So you ran off and became Captain America?”
He chuckled at the too-apt description and at the memory from the other night that flitted through his mind, of Cam in a Captain America T-shirt.
“Coming out to a big family like mine,” Becca said, “did not go well.”
“Mine was small but I ran away too.” He wasn’t given a choice to return home. Not that Becca should have, given the toxic environment she described. That toxicity had rooted itself deep, affecting her relationships. “The way you treated your girlfriend?—”
“Was wrong,” she acknowledged. “I fell into the trap of the abused becoming the abuser. Betrayal and jail have made me see that clearly. And I regret it, more than she’ll ever know.”
“I’ll see what I can do about moving you somewhere more comfortable if you give me the names of the crew members who took you in.”
“I already told you I wasn’t kidnapped.”
He gave her a significant glance, one outcast to another. “You’d be surprised the connections we find sometimes.”
Twelve
Di was right about it being all hands on deck at the D-4 station house. From the conference room where he sat with Jamie, Cam watched the flurry of bullpen activity. There was also a Sox game tonight, and with Fenway being in District 4, they’d be coordinating police presence.
His phone on the table buzzed. Picking it up, he read the text from Nic. No luck with Becca.
“Shit, Becca’s a dead end.”
“Then we better pray this one isn’t,” Jamie said with a nod to the door.
Following his line of sight, Cam tracked a wrecked-looking Billy Murphy and his captain, Bo Smith, through the bullpen on their way to the conference room.
“You think they’ll play ball?” Jamie asked.
“If he loves his daughter, he will.” Cam stood, Jamie rising beside him, as Smith entered the room, Murphy on his heels.
The officer, however, stalled over the threshold. “Cap, I thought you said we could keep the feds out of this.”
“We’re here in an unofficial capacity,” Cam said.
“You’re Keith Byrne’s brother, right?” Murphy asked.
“That’s right,” Cam said. “He was a year behind you. I knew your brother Randy. I’m not going to do anything to hurt your family. I want to help.”
“Give ’em a chance, Billy,” Smith said. “Cam’s one of the best agents I’ve worked with. He’ll bring Shannon home.”
Cam fought back a retort. He hated making promises like that—after a decade of this work, he knew cases didn’t always end well—and the fact that Shannon was already missing over twenty-four hours wasn’t a good sign. But he couldn’t say any of that without upsetting Murphy more and without jeopardizing his own case.
He gestured toward the table. “Hear us out, please.”
Murphy stepped the rest of the way inside, and Smith shut the door behind him as Jamie introduced himself.
Once they were all seated around the table, Cam started in easy, asking Murphy, “How long have you been on the force?”
