Where the Lies Hide Page 3

  “Cam?” Maggie called from the front desk.

  “Yeah?”

  “The Peters woman is on her way here to drop off the questionnaire. You want me to close your door?”

  Cam sat back and considered the question. If Sarah saw her, she’d most likely want to talk to her and remind Cam how important it was that she find her brother. A fact she was well aware of. But the thought of seeing Sarah with her feisty attitude warmed her insides, although she wasn’t entirely clear why. Aside from both having been raised by people other than their birth parents, they had little in common. Sarah was anything but the type of reserved woman she normally gravitated toward. One that let her maintain control of the situation. If she were being honest, Sarah had her at odds. She should just do her job and ignore how attractive she was. Maggie cleared her throat as she leaned against the doorjamb.

  “No. It’s okay.”

  Maggie’s eyebrows rose in response. Cam ignored her by focusing on her computer screen. She wasn’t about to analyze it. A few minutes later, she heard Maggie’s voice loud and clear.

  “Good afternoon, Ms. Peters.”

  Cam sighed, bracing herself for what she was sure would be an interrogation from Maggie with regards to why Sarah was given the rare privilege of knowing Cam was in her office. Most of the time when a client showed without an appointment, her door stayed closed, and Maggie convincingly talked about how rare it was for Cam to be at her desk with the caseload she had. Cam wondered what she’d do if Sarah asked if she was in. It didn’t take long for her to find out.

  “I filled this out the best I could.” Sarah sounded despondent.

  “Yes. I’m sure you did. I’ll give it to Ms. Stark as soon as possible.” The sound of a file drawer opening and closing echoed in the lobby.

  “I don’t suppose she’s in.”

  It was more of a statement than a question, and Cam rose, taking her time reaching the doorway. She cocked her hip against the casing and crossed her arms. “As a matter of fact, I am.”

  Sarah displayed a pinched smile, and Cam caught Maggie’s eye roll.

  “I brought over the papers. I’m afraid a lot of it’s blank.” She looked at the floor, her embarrassment clear.

  Cam wanted to reassure Sarah even the smallest piece of information helped. Instead, she went to the file cabinet and pulled out the file labeled “Peters, S” with the date of hire. She scanned the sheets and her shoulders fell. Virtually every question had been left blank. She had her work cut out for her. Schooling her disappointment, she smiled at Sarah.

  “If you have a few minutes, I’d like to ask some additional questions.”

  “Yes, of course. Anything to help.”

  She motioned to her office and Sarah went in. She turned and stuck her tongue out at Maggie, knowing she would have a few questions of her own when Sarah left.

  Sarah watched her expectantly as she flipped to a blank page on her pad and opened the folder. Cam cleared her throat.

  “Ms. Peters—” she began.

  “Sarah.”

  “Right. Sarah, there isn’t a lot for me to go on here.” Cam masked her disappointment. The deep desire to give Sarah hope made her uneasy. “Do you think there may be documents you haven’t gone through?”

  “I suppose anything’s possible. I haven’t gone through everything in the attic. It’s…”

  Sarah was obviously struggling, and Cam wished she could offer comfort, but that would be unprofessional.

  “I’ll try to get through it this week.”

  Cam had spent more than a year trying to find her mother, and she’d started with more information than Sarah had provided. I was looking for a challenge. Wish granted.

  She smiled. “That’s fine.” The typed questionnaire mocked her. There wasn’t any reason to continue the meeting, so why was she stalling? A knock on the door made her look up.

  Maggie leaned in the office doorway. “Sorry to interrupt. You have a scheduled meeting in ten minutes.”

  Sarah’s cheeks became rosy. Maggie never interrupted her when there was a client in her office unless Cam had called her in. So why now?

  “Thank you. If we’re not finished when they arrive, offer them something to drink and have them wait.”

  “Yes, Ms. Stark.” Maggie’s reluctance to leave was obvious, and Cam hoped Sarah hadn’t noticed.

  “Sarah, if there’s nothing else…” Sarah’s intent focus on her stole Cam’s breath. How had she not noticed her amazing blue eyes? But that wasn’t the only thing about Sarah she was cued in on. The sprinkling of freckles across her nose gave her a youthful appearance, and if she hadn’t already known her date of birth, she would have guessed she was barely in her twenties.

  “I almost forgot. I wanted to give you this.” Sarah reached into her oversized bag and produced a faded picture of a smiling woman holding an infant with light colored hair.

  Cam studied the dog-eared photo. She took in all of Sarah’s features again. Just to check for a resemblance with the woman in the photo.

  “I think the baby is me. I have no idea who the woman holding me is.” Sarah’s eyes revealed her confusion.

  Cam flipped the photo over. The April 1, 1989, on the back was close to Sarah’s birthday. She would have been two weeks old. “Do you have a picture of your adoptive mother?”

  “Yes, of course, but how will that help?”

  “I’ll scan it into the computer and do a comparison to double-check. Make sure it isn’t your deceased parent.”

  Sarah dug around more in her bag. “I know I have it…” Her eyes flashed on Cam. “It’s just…” She abruptly looked up. “I took out the pouch of important papers for policy numbers. It must be home. It has my parents’ pictures in it.”

  Cam saw the slight tremor of Sarah’s lip, though she sat rigid as stone. While she’d never known the loss of a mother’s love, she could imagine how it would feel if she lost Liv, and her heartstrings tugged. “It’s all right. Another time.”

  “I could run home.”

  She almost gave in, but she couldn’t fall into the trap of caring for Sarah on a personal level. She didn’t let women get close enough to see inside. She had to maintain her distance. “I’m expecting a client, but you could drop it off at the desk.” Cam gestured in the direction of where Maggie sat in the outer office.

  Sarah nodded, then stood. “Yes, okay. I’ve taken enough of your time.” She appeared to want to say more but extended her hand. “Thank you.”

  Cam stood. “You’re welcome, Sarah. Thanks for coming by.” She hung on a little longer than necessary. Sarah nodded. The door quietly closed behind her.

  Once alone, she stared down at the photo. She should remove herself before it was too late and give the case to Kevin. Adoption and Social Services weren’t things she wanted to be involved with. They hit too close to home. But even while considering the option, it wasn’t what she would do. She tapped the edge of the photo. This was a thread she might be able to follow. The only question was to where.

  * * *

  Cam rubbed her temples. She’d been looking at screen after screen of random statistics and entries based on Sarah’s date of birth and the city she was born in. Since she was a twin, her brother had arrived either a little before or after Sarah, but she didn’t have a time to go by, and the number of twins born had been more than she’d expected. Ten sets of twins had been born in Dover, Delaware, in the two major hospitals over a twenty-four-hour period. Of course, there was also the distinct possibility the person she was looking for had been born on the other side of midnight, so she had to check for twins with different DOBs, too. Then there was the task of finding birth certificates. Sarah had a copy of her amended birth certificate, but Cam questioned if Sarah’s birth mother had used her real name in the hospital. What were the odds her name was Mary Jones? And to make matters worse, the father was listed as “unknown” in the letter from her adoptive mother.

  She fought against the nausea. A migraine
was starting, and there wasn’t much she could do to ward it off if she stayed at the office. She needed to find a dark, quiet location. Fast. And she needed to eat, a little detail she’d neglected aside from the pot of coffee she’d nursed her way through and the bag of stale pretzels she’d found in the bottom of her drawer. Cam jotted a few notes and shut down the computer while she thought about her options. There were several restaurants on her way home, but there was only one destination that really appealed to her. She locked up the office, jumped in her SUV, and headed to her favorite place.

  The sign above the door was an understatement. Dead End Bar & Grill was a hangout frequented by the locals. It was where the bored retirees and the married folks who didn’t want to go home spent their time and money. She should know. She’d spent a fair amount of both here when she started the agency. A lack of clientele meant she had nothing to do, and occasionally she’d find a lonely woman looking for an escape. She didn’t mind providing the service.

  “Cam. Been a while.” Jack, the bartender who reminded her of the well-aged bourbon they occasionally shared, stood at the end of the bar. His handlebar mustache stuck out a good four inches from the sides of his face, and his barrel of a chest gave the impression he was slow and out of shape. Looks could be deceiving.

  She settled on a stool so her back was to a wall rather than the door. Slapping a twenty on the bar, she smiled at him. “You know how it is.”

  Jack nodded. He’d probably heard every excuse there was for why people did this or that. “You here to hook up or to drown out?”

  Laughter bubbled from her throat. Jack had a unique way of conversing with his customers. “Neither. Trying to ward off a migraine. Is Connie here?” Connie made the best burger she’d ever had, and each night of the week, the toppings changed. It was an odd place to find the best of anything, but the bar was known for its ice-cold beer and stick-to-your-ribs food.

  “Yep.” He grabbed a bottle of stout and leaned into the kitchen doorway. “Cam’s hungry.”

  Connie yelled back. “When ain’t she…for something? Ten minutes.”

  Cam shook her head and watched Jack efficiently pour beer into a frosted mug. It arrived in front of her with a short head of foam, the way she liked it. The first sip was always the best. The rest wasn’t bad either. She glanced at Jack as he polished glasses.

  “So, what have I missed?” Her hand went to her temple, the knife edge of pain slicking along her nerve track. It wanted to take her down. She took a couple of deep breaths and relaxed the muscles in her face and jaw. Tension was her enemy.

  Jack wiped the bar; the scent of bleach tickled her nose.

  “Same old. Charlie fell off his stool last week. Whacked his shoulder pretty good. Lucky for him Doc was here to check him out; said he’d be bruised but okay.” He leaned against the back shelf where an impressive array of libations was backlit by typical bar lighting, drawing customers in and separating them from their hard-earned pay. For not much more than the cost of a couple of drinks, they could have a whole bottle, but then they’d miss out on Jack’s lively conversational skills.

  Her shoulders eased from her ears. The feeling of being on familiar ground was welcoming. Jack continued catching her up.

  “Mike went missing for a few days. No one knew where he was. Thought I was gonna have to call on your professional services.” He reached inside the kitchen, then set the steaming plate of food and a bottle of ketchup in front of her. “He finally showed up wearing a huge smile. Apparently, he’d been holed up with a woman who’d done him right. He was wearing clean, ironed clothes. Smelled of aftershave. Told us not to worry if we saw less of him.”

  Cam blew on a fry and bit into it. The crispy coating was full of flavor with a bit of a kick. Blissful. “Good for him.” If only I could be as fortunate to find a woman who would look after me for a change. She applied a liberal amount of ketchup to her burger and took a bite. Horseradish cheese, lettuce, bacon, and a bit of mashed avocado burst through the well-seasoned meat. She made a noise of satisfaction after a thorough chew and swallowed.

  “Connie! You outdid yourself. This is the best,” Cam yelled toward the kitchen.

  Connie’s head popped out of the doorway. “I know. That’s why you keep coming back.” She disappeared into the mysterious area where the magic happened. Cam liked to think the space was pristine, but she didn’t want to find out if it was otherwise. Some things were better left unknown.

  While she ate, she thought about Sarah and her mesmerizing eyes. She’d waffled during their last meeting, vacillating between composed and vulnerable. Still—there was an undeniable connection. Either way, she had a job to do, and as difficult as it was proving to be, she was determined to provide Sarah with as much information as possible.

  By the time she was done eating, the migraine had receded, leaving a soreness in its wake that she would gladly deal with.

  Jack took her plate and pointed to the empty mug. “Another?”

  As tempting as another cold one sounded, she’d accomplished what she’d come for…for tonight. “Nah. I’ve got a full belly and a hot case that needs tending.” Hot might have described Sarah, but not the case. So far there’d been nothing to follow. She tossed an extra five-dollar bill down and smiled. “Next time.”

  * * *

  Sarah finished the last weld and turned down her torch, flipping back her shield with a nod of her head. After pulling her gloves off, she grabbed the insulated water bottle always hanging on a carabiner from her tool belt, and let the cool liquid soothe her parched throat. She was glad this job was almost finished. She was going to take a few days and catch up on the yard and house chores that had been neglected far too long. She’d spent most of her free time sitting vigil at her mother’s bedside. The thought she might die alone had wiped away all other concerns, and even though she couldn’t afford to miss work, she’d made sure she was with her whenever she could.

  That was then. There was no one to rush home to now. She had to turn her focus inward and concentrate on what was important to her happiness, and her future. It wasn’t that she regretted being an only child. She’d had her parents’ undivided attention and they had doted on her while providing the means for her to develop a level head. With their deaths came a reckoning of the dreams and desires she’d pushed to the background while she cared for them. Dreams of finding a special someone to share the type of adoration that had been so evident between her parents. When she was in high school, she’d thought about having a family of her own with a couple of kids and a loving partner. She might even find time to seriously pursue her love of metal sculpting. She might not be able to paint a portrait, but she had an artistic flair and had sold a couple of small pieces of art over the years. Could she juggle work, a family, and her art? Did she want to consider having them all in her life? When she thought about her childhood and all of the fun and love her parents had provided, she knew the answer was yes. She did want it all. Even though she’d decided in her early twenties she much preferred women over men, it didn’t rule out her ideal of the perfect family unit. Her children might even have an uncle if the self-assured Camdyn Stark came through and made good on her promise.

  The first time they’d met, Sarah had been convinced Camdyn was a lesbian. Between her manner of dress, the confidence she exuded, and the knowing looks they’d shared, Sarah was fairly certain her assumption was correct. She probably spends her nights hooking up. Sarah snorted. What Camdyn did on her own time wasn’t any of Sarah’s concern.

  Satisfied with the quality of her work, Sarah picked up her tools and climbed down the cross section of iron beams. Construction was her first love, but she enjoyed the artistic side of metallurgy and wished she had more time and resources to pursue it. Creating art centered her, like the job she was on, but in a much different way. At work, she had to be ever conscious of where she stepped. How far away the next beam was. Where her coworkers were. She didn’t have a fear of heights, but she had respect for
how quickly a careless moment could take her life. She couldn’t be distracted like she had been the past few days. At least when she’d daydreamed about her future before her world had turned upside down, she’d been sitting and not walking the narrow intersections of steel far above the pavement below.

  The short drive to the dilapidated garage that served as Sarah’s studio gave her a chance to regroup. She parked on the uneven, pothole ridden driveway, and then unlocked the door with her remote. She gathered her tools and set them on the workbench. Looking around the cramped area made her sad. The peeling walls and pitted cement floor were older than she was. The overhead shop light dangled from a frayed cord; the only thing holding it up were the two chains suspended from the open rafters. She’d rented the space and used it to complete welding jobs she picked up to supplement her income. Her parents’ insurance had been okay while they’d been healthy, but with her father’s heart attacks and her mother’s cancer treatments, the bills had skyrocketed. They’d had no choice but to take out a home equity loan. Sarah helped as much as she could by picking up odd jobs and repairing broken objects, like stair railings. Thankfully, the owner of the garage knew her parents and let her have it cheap, but there was still electric and heat to pay for. She didn’t mind the hard work, and often got lost in the methodical approach to each joint soldered before polishing them smooth. She wondered if Camdyn had ever done physical work, though the muscles she’d glimpsed beneath her fitted clothes had to have come from somewhere, but for some reason she couldn’t see Camdyn as a gym rat. She chided herself for letting her mind wander to a person she hardly knew, and turned her attention to the random pieces of metal she’d shape into something abstract, something that would have meaning and substance, not like her speculations of Camdyn.

  Two hours and a new art project later, Sarah admired what had started out as a couple of bent rebar rods and two large, rusted industrial padlocks. She’d ground everything to remove the flakes, then heated and twisted the items until they fit in some semblance of the vision that took shape as she worked. Once she was sure all the metal was sufficiently cooled, she locked the door, then got into her ten-year-old car. It wasn’t the worst she’d ever seen on the road, and it was mostly dependable. She hoped it would remain that way for a few more years. The quiet engine turned over, although that wasn’t always guaranteed. She should have it repaired, but it was an expense she’d rather not deal with. She backed out of the driveway and headed for home. Unwarranted tears fell. It wasn’t often she let the grief of loss overtake her. When it did, there wasn’t anything she could do to stop it. With no one to go home to and no one who would miss her, she wiped the tears away and changed lanes. She needed an escape. Somewhere she could get lost in the crowd and maybe lose herself for a little while.