“So what now?” I ask.
“My plan is to walk out of here and go break the news to Aubrey it wasn’t here.” And then Deacon turns and leaves.
Silas and I stand there staring at the empty doorway.
“What the fuck,” Silas mumbles, relaxing for the first time when he hears the front door shut.
“This means Dad is wrong. If Foster sent it to Aubrey, Deacon wouldn’t have shown up here looking for it.”
Silas leans his back against the safe and closes his eyes. “If it’s not here, where the fuck is it?”
Chapter 35
Hank
AFTER THE ALIBI
Sunday, October 18
Ask Camille why I was at the Rosary.
The entire weekend, that one sentence has plagued me. Haunted me. Kept me up at night.
I send Camille a text telling her I need to talk. My phone rings less than a minute later.
“Hey,” she says when I answer. “What’s going on?”
“Hey, checking on you. How are you holding up today?”
It’s Sunday and exactly a week since she found Ben. I imagine it’s a rough day ending a rough week, so I’m not jumping right into questioning her about Aubrey Price and St. Francisville.
“I’m better than I thought I’d be, but that bar was pretty low. I think the fact that I’m wearing regular clothes and not the pajamas that were welding themselves to my skin is a good sign.” Her words are light but there’s still a heaviness to her voice.
“That is a good sign.”
“Is there something you wanted to talk to me about or were you just calling to make sure I got out of bed this morning?”
Camille is a weakness for me. More than I would have admitted when Ben was still alive. Funny how Deacon picked up on it before I did. And he was right when he said I was trying to protect her. But I can’t do that if I don’t know the truth. “I got a weird call Friday night.”
“Oh. What was it?”
“The police conducted a search on a house for Ben’s hunting knife.”
“What? Where?”
“The owner of the residence called me after the search was completed and came up empty. Her name was Aubrey Price.”
Her gasp tells me everything I need to know.
“I don’t understand. Why…why would she call you,” she says.
I’m quiet for a moment then say, “Camille, I can’t help you if you don’t let me in.”
Emotion spills out of her in a sob. It’s gut-wrenching. She cries for several minutes and I hate myself for bringing her further down today than she already was.
Finally, she seems to pull herself together. “I can’t talk right now but…but are you free later?”
“Yes, I’m available whenever you need me. Do you want to talk at your parents’ or somewhere else?”
