Chapter Eleven

Shelby reread the last entry in Camille's online journal, trying to find some clue she had missed before about Camille's intentions. But the brief paragraph of an unspecified day's activities was innocuous. Ran three miles this morning, rewarded myself with an iced mocha. Flirted with Dave, but neither of us is serious about it. Sasha was late again. Sushi for dinner, third time this week. I might be addicted!

Had she written about such mundane matters to throw Shelby and others like her off the track? There was nothing in the entry about threats or being followed or any suspicion that she might be in danger. That led Shelby to believe that whoever had killed Camille must have picked up her trail after she left her new life in Maryland. Had the Chalk brothers sent someone to watch for any activity near Zach or her parents? Or had they discovered her new identity and merely waited until she was alone and unprotected to strike?

Her phone rang, and she grabbed it up and stared at the screen. "Zach?" She glanced at the clock beside the bed. He had left the motel thirty minutes ago.

He cleared his throat. "Did I happen to leave my house key in your room?" he asked. "I got home and can't find it."

"I haven't seen it. Let me look." Still holding the phone, she stood and scanned the carpet between the bed and the door, then looked all around the furniture. "I don't see it," she said. "Do you think it could be at Mo's?"

"Maybe."

Something in his voice alarmed her. "Is everything okay? You sound...upset."

A long silence. "Zach?"

"The thing is, when I tried the door, it was unlocked," he said. "I never forget to lock the door."

"Is everything inside okay? Do you want me to come over?"

"Everything is okay. Except..."

That silence again. It felt weighted. And wrong. "Zach, what is it?"

"Someone's been here," he said. "They left a stuffed animal on my bed. A bear. And, well, its head's been cut almost off."

Her stomach dipped, then rose. "Don't touch anything. I'm on my way over."

She hung up before he could protest that he didn't need her to come over. She shut down Camille's laptop and locked it in her suitcase and took it with her when she left the room. She locked the case in the trunk, then drove to Zach's, heart racing, even as she forced herself to stay only a few miles over the speed limit. Zach was all right. Whoever had done this thing hadn't hurt him.

Yet.

She parked beside Zach's truck and scanned the parking lot. No one was visible this time of night, and nothing looked out of place. She slid out of the driver's seat and closed the door softly behind her, not locking it in case she needed to leave suddenly, perhaps with Zach in tow. Then she walked to Zach's door, checking all around her for anything suspicious.

The door itself looked undisturbed. No sign of forced entry. She rang the bell, and within seconds, the door opened. "I'm okay," Zach said before she could speak. "I'm just a little confused."

"Show me," she said.

She followed him into the townhouse, through the living room and down a short hall to the bedroom. Her first impression was of a comfortable room with a king-size bed, a dresser and a bedside table. She focused on the object in the middle of the comforter. A brown stuffed bear, head lolling to one side. It was just a child's toy, but the sight of it, disfigured that way, made her sick to her stomach. "That would freak anyone out," she told Zach, assuming an attitude of calm she didn't really feel. "Where was it, exactly, when you found it?"

"Sitting up between the two pillows at the head of the bed." He gestured toward the pillows. "I picked it up, and the head almost fell off."

"And you're sure the bear wasn't here before?"

He let out a hoarse laugh. "I'm a little old to sleep with a teddy bear."

She shook her head. "Have you seen it—or one like it—before?"

"No."

She pulled out her phone.

"Who are you calling?" His voice rose with alarm.

"The sheriff's department."

"No!" He held out his hands. "I'm okay. Nothing happened. It's just a sick joke."

"You said you lost your house key, right?"

"Yeah."

"And you haven't found it?"

"No. But I probably dropped it—"

"Whoever got in here did it with your key," she said. "That means they took it from you. Who could have done that?"

"No one. The key was in my pocket. I would have noticed if someone had tried to take it."

"Not if the person was good at picking pockets." She studied him. "What about Janie? She was sitting very close to you when I saw you two together at Mo's."

He paled. "When I left, she hugged me."

"She could have taken the key then."

"But why would she? And why do this?"

"I don't know. But we need to find out. The sheriff can help with that."

She made the call. The dispatcher agreed to send a deputy. That settled, she took Zach into the kitchen and got a glass of water for him and one for herself. "Who else was close enough to you today to pick your pocket?" she asked.

"I don't know. Eldon and I climbed together this afternoon. But he wouldn't do something like this."

She could have argued that anyone might do something terrible with the right motivation, but didn't bother. "Anyone else?"

"There was this guy, Todd. We met him in Caspar Canyon, and he tried to help me with my gear. We had a beer with him at Mo's before Janie showed up."

"Is Todd another friend?"

"No. He wrecked an ATV in the high country last week, and Search and Rescue responded to the call."

"So you don't really know anything about him."

"No." He looked miserable.

The doorbell summoned them, and Zach ushered in a sheriff's deputy. "Deputy Declan Owen," he introduced himself. "I understand you had a break-in. What happened?"

Zach explained about losing his key and finding the door open, then showed Deputy Owen the mutilated bear. "Nothing else was disturbed," he said. "It's really strange. And unsettling."

"I noticed the front door didn't look forced," Owen said. "Is there any other way for someone to get in?"

"I didn't think of that." Zach looked to Shelby.

"We should check," she said, wishing she had thought of that before.

They followed Owen through the townhouse, but the back door and all the windows were still secure. "I think someone stole Zach's key and used it to get in," Shelby said.

"Any idea who?" Owen asked Zach.

"I had a couple of strangers approach me this afternoon," Zach said. "Both people I had helped on Search and Rescue calls. I guess one of them might have taken the key, though I don't know why."

Owen wrote down the information on Todd and Janie, then bagged the bear as evidence. "Any idea who might want to frighten you?" he asked Zach.

Zach shook his head. "No."

"Zach's sister was in witness security after she testified against Charlie and Christopher Chalk in Houston," Shelby said. "Her murderer may have worked for the Chalks. There's the possibility they're targeting Zach now."

"I don't believe it," Zach said. "They don't have any reason to go after me."

"I used to work for the Marshals Service," Owen said. "I know about your sister's case. I'm sorry for your loss."

"Did you know Camille?" Zach asked.

"I met her once, before she was relocated. She had a good reputation in the office—smart and just a really nice person."

Zach nodded. "That was Camille."

"Why did you leave the Marshals Service?" Shelby asked.

"This is a better fit for me," he said. He nodded to Zach. "We'll be in touch. Call us right away if anything else happens that seems off or threatening."

He left. Zach dropped onto the sofa and rested his elbows on his knees. He looked exhausted. "I'll need to change the locks tomorrow," he said.

Shelby sat beside him. "You shouldn't stay here tonight."

"I'll be okay." He glanced to the door. "I'll wedge a chair under the door knob or something."

"If you have a pillow and some blankets, I'll make up a bed here on the sofa," she said.

He straightened. "You don't have to do that."

"I'm not going to leave you alone."

"It was just a stuffed bear," he said. "Sick, but..."

"It was a threat," she said. "Or a warning."

"You really think the Chalk brothers sent someone after me? Why?"

"Maybe killing Camille wasn't enough for them," she said. "Maybe they want to take out her whole family."

He stood. "My parents!"

She put a hand on his arm. "While you and Deputy Owen were in the bedroom, I called my office, and they're sending someone to watch over your parents. I told them I'd look after you."

He sat again. "This is unreal. You really think I'm in danger?"

"You said Janie was at the campground the day Camille was murdered. She has long blond hair."

"Wait. I thought a man killed Camille."

"A tall, thin figure dressed in a hooded raincoat and jeans was seen leaving her campsite. How tall is Janie?"

"Tall," he said. "Almost six feet." He looked stunned. "You really think she murdered Camille?"

"I don't know. What about Todd? What does he look like?"

"He's tall, too. And thin. And he has blond hair." Zach looked as if he might be sick.

"Was he at the campground that day?"

"I don't remember seeing him. But there were a lot of people there. And everyone was wet and bundled up in coats and rain gear."

"I'll work with the sheriff's department to find out where both of them were after they left you yesterday," she said. "In the meantime, I'll stay here tonight."

He stiffened, and she knew he wanted to protest that he could look after himself, but the memory of that almost beheaded bear must have stopped him. "I'll find you some bedding," he said and left the room.

When he was gone, Shelby took out her pistol and laid it on the coffee table, within easy reach of the sofa. She didn't believe what had happened here tonight was a harmless prank or a sick joke. The person who left that bear wanted to frighten Zach. Fear had a way of wearing people down. Of making them more vulnerable. But she wasn't going to let them get close enough to Zach to harm him. She had failed Camille. She wouldn't fail Zach.

Z ACH DIDN ' T SLEEP that night. Every time he closed his eyes, he saw that mutilated bear and heard Shelby telling him the Chalk brothers might have decided to come after him. Because they hated Camille so much?

Or because they knew he hadn't told everything he had seen that night in front of the Britannia Pub?

He tossed and turned, then listened as Shelby moved around in the front room. He thought about going out to talk to her. Or to do more than talk. He hadn't forgotten the brief physical connection they had shared in her motel room earlier that evening. How wonderful would it be to focus on exploring that instead of being afraid? To escape for a while in a different kind of emotion?

But that wouldn't be a good idea. And Shelby didn't strike him as the type to get distracted when she had a job to do. So he turned over again and stayed in bed, finally slipping into a troubled sleep full of swirling waters, a blond figure running away from him and a real bear that roared at him from the underbrush.

He went through the next day on autopilot, half expecting his coworkers to ask what was wrong. But everyone was busy in the run-up to the opening of a new mine shaft, and no one questioned the dark circles beneath his eyes or his distracted air.

At four o'clock, Deputy Owen called. "Could you stop by the sheriff's office when you get off work?" he asked.

"Sure. Did you find something?"

"We just have a few more questions to ask you."

Shelby was waiting in the room with Sheriff Walker and Deputy Owen when the office manager, Adelaide Kinkaid, escorted Zach inside a little over an hour later. "Thanks for stopping by," Sheriff Walker said. He nodded to the lone empty chair. "Sit down."

He sat and glanced at Shelby, who looked at him in a way that was probably meant to be reassuring, but only made him brace himself for worse news. "What have you found out about the break-in at my place last night?" he asked.

"None of your neighbors saw anyone suspicious," the sheriff said. "But that's not too surprising, if someone with a key walked up and opened the door and went inside. Most people wouldn't look twice. And the way the townhomes are arranged, your front door faces the street. None of your neighbors could see it from inside their homes."

"Did you talk to Todd or Janie?" he asked.

"Without a last name, we're having trouble locating Janie," the sheriff said. "You say she was at the campground the day Search and Rescue helped evacuate flooded campers?"

"Yes. She came up and hugged me and thanked me for helping out."

"And later at Mo's, she thanked you again?"

"Yes." He frowned.

"You don't remember a last name?" Deputy Owen asked.

"I'm sure she never said. You could ask Eldon Ramsey. He was there, too. And he saw her at the campground."

The sheriff made a note. "What else do you know about her?"

"She said she was camping with friends, but that they left to go to Moab while she stayed in town a few more days."

"What was your impression of her?"

"If you mean, did I think she was the type to steal my key and leave a slashed-up stuffed animal in my townhouse, I sure didn't think that."

"Special Agent Dryden tells us Janie was coming on pretty strong at Mo's."

He didn't look at Shelby, and his cheeks felt hot. "She was flirting."

"There was no one named Janie, and no one who matched that description among the campers we interviewed about your sister," Walker said.

"But I thought you talked to everyone?" Zach asked.

"We were able to match the names of the people we did interview with every occupied site," Walker said.

"Maybe she didn't register," Zach said. "It happens. People occupy a site but don't pay. It's all on the honor system."

"Maybe. Or maybe she wasn't camping there at all." The sheriff glanced at his notes. "We did interview Todd Arniston. Do you remember seeing him at the campground that day?"

"No! He was there? He never said."

"We have a statement from him. But he says he never saw your sister or anyone suspicious."

"I went back out to the campground afterward," Zach said. "It had reopened, but I didn't see Todd there."

"He's moved into town. He's staying at the Nugget Inn. But he was out when a deputy stopped by. The deputy left a card, asking Mr. Arniston to call us."

"If the threat left at your townhouse does have any connection to the Chalk brothers, it might not be a bad idea for you to leave town for a few days," Walker said.

"I can't just leave," he said. "I have a job, and Search and Rescue commitments. And my parents. I can't abandon them."

"I received confirmation this morning that the FBI has a protection detail with your parents," Shelby said.

"Have they been threatened, too?" He needed to call them. He should have called last night, but he hadn't wanted to upset them.

"No. And we haven't told them anything about what happened to you," she said. "They think we're being extra cautious in the aftermath of Camille's death."

He nodded. That was alarming enough, but it was a story his parents would accept. Like him, they would find it difficult to believe they were in any real danger. Not after so much time had passed. Even in the run-up to the trial, when Shelby and her potential testimony had filled the news, Zach and his parents had never felt threatened. All of the focus was on Shelby. As horrible as her death had been, knowing she was gone had made them all believe the Chalk brothers would forget about them.

"I need to stay here," he said. "I'll be careful, but I can't run away."

Shelby pressed her lips together, and he wondered if she was biting her tongue, too, to keep from arguing with him. Her eyes telegraphed her disagreement with this decision, but she apparently knew him well enough now—or realized he was enough like Camille in this regard—that she didn't waste her words.

Zach stood. "Can I go now?"

Sheriff Walker nodded.

Zach left, Shelby on his heels. "You don't have to babysit me," he said. "I got the locks changed, and I promise to dial 911 if anything at all unusual happens."

"By then it could be too late."

"Look, if Janie or Todd really wanted me dead, wouldn't they have killed me by now? They've had plenty of opportunities. You don't think Camille had days and days of warnings, do you?"

She probably wouldn't appreciate it if he told her she looked cute when she frowned like that. Something about her intensity really got to him. "You shouldn't be alone," she said.

"You can't stay with me," he said.

"Why not?"

"You're too distracting." He met and held her gaze. The faintest blush of pink colored her cheeks.

"I... I'm sure we can get past that," she stammered.

Did he really want to "get past" his feelings for her? He shook his head. "I'll stay in touch."

She let him walk away, though he felt the effort it took. Once he was in his truck, he looked back. She was still frowning at him, lips pressed tightly together. What did it say about him that in spite of everything else, all he wanted to do was kiss her?