Chapter Seven

Four and a half years ago

Zach stood at the window of his childhood bedroom and peered through the blinds at the reporters lined up on the sidewalk in front of his parents' house. News vans, white satellite dishes angled toward the sky, crowded curbs and blocked the neighbors' driveways. Ever since someone had leaked Camille's name to the media as the key witness in the upcoming Chalk brothers trial, it had been like this. Zach and his parents had to run a gauntlet every time they left the house.

Zach had moved back home shortly after Camille had been relocated to a safe house to await the trial. At first, it hadn't been so bad. His parents were shaken, but they were strong people, and they were proud of their daughter for taking this stand.

But then the media attention had focused on them. Unwilling to allow his parents to face the constant presence of the reporters alone, Zach had asked for leave from his job. When that had been refused, he had resigned. At least he was big enough to intimidate all but the most forward reporters when he went out to buy groceries or run other errands.

A flash winked—someone taking yet another picture of their house. He stepped back from the window, and his cell phone vibrated. He didn't recognize the number. This was probably a reporter, too, so he silenced the call. Seconds later, his voicemail alert chirped. Bracing himself for yet another appeal to "just answer a few questions" he called into his mailbox.

"Zach, it's me! I have a new number." Camille's excitement carried through the phone. He pictured her pacing, the way she often did when she was on a call, as if she had too much energy to remain still. "Top secret and super secure and all that. Call me."

He hit the call back button, and she answered right away. "What do you think you're doing, ignoring me, you goof?" she demanded.

"I thought you were a reporter," he said. "Those are the only calls I get these days. That, and the occasional stranger who wants to share his conspiracy theory related to the Chalk brothers."

"I'm sorry about that. The feds are still trying to figure out who leaked my name to the press. But I don't think it matters, really. I mean, my name was bound to get out there when I testify at the trial next week."

"How are you doing?" he asked. Where are you? When can I see you? But he had learned not to ask those questions since that information, too, was top-secret. He accepted this was for her protection, but he hated not being able to see her. This was the longest they had been apart in their lives. Even when they had each gone away to college, they had come home for holidays and had visited each other's schools.

"I'm great," she said. "Everyone has been so nice, and this place where I'm staying is super posh. Some rich guy must be lending it to the government. Anything I want, they're bending over backward to give me. I feel like some pampered celebrity. I guess the cops have worked so long to try to get something on the Chalk brothers, and I'm giving it to them, so they can't do enough for me."

"Are you nervous about the trial?" He certainly was.

"No. I've been working with the prosecution on my testimony. They want to prepare me so the defense team doesn't rattle me. I feel really prepared, and I'm excited, really."

"Why is that?" Why be excited about facing a couple of murderers who probably wanted her dead? His stomach turned at the thought.

"I feel so strong!" Camille said. "Ever since Laney died, I've been trying to figure out what I should do with my life. I mean, we were identical twins. Exactly alike, except that she got sick and I didn't. Why was I spared, unless it was to do something important? I think this is it."

"I don't know if I believe life works like that," he said.

"I never went back to work after I left for the night before," she said. "Yet that one night—the night Judge Hennessey was murdered—I left my wallet and had to go back. If that hadn't happened—something that had never happened before—I wouldn't have been there and heard that shot and seen the Chalk brothers standing over him. And I wouldn't be here now."

No. She would be home with the rest of them. Safe. "I was there, too," he said.

"Don't say that. You weren't there. You didn't see anything."

He wanted to argue, but he didn't. Presumably, she was talking on a phone supplied to her by the FBI. They might have the phone bugged. Maybe they were listening in right now. "I want to do whatever I can to help," he said.

"You're doing it by staying with Mom and Dad. How are they?"

"Okay. They're really proud of you."

"I'm trying to make them proud. I was talking to a couple of the agents, and I think after the trial I might enroll in the law enforcement academy. Either that or law school. I haven't decided. But I really think I'm meant to help bring bad people to justice."

"When you were thirteen, you thought your destiny was to open an animal sanctuary." She had been raising a litter of abandoned puppies at the time.

"I'm an adult now. And this is serious. I could never do this—give up my job and my friends and you and Mom and Dad—if I didn't believe this was really important."

"I know. But we miss you."

"Once the trial is over and the Chalk brothers are behind bars for good, I'll be able to come home. We'll have a big party or something."

"I feel like a coward, letting you take all the heat." There, he said it. Any feds listening in could make of that what they would.

"You're not a coward," she said. "But I'm the one with the information the prosecutors need. If anything else came up right now, with the trial so close, it would only muddy the waters. Your job is to take care of Mom and Dad. We're still a team—we just have different roles to play."

Camille was the star in this production, and she was loving it. She would never say so, but she had always had a flair for drama and a desire for attention. Maybe it really was because her twin had been taken from her. She was missing that part of herself, and this was a way to fill that void.

He didn't know. He wasn't a psychologist, and he didn't really care what motivated Camille. He only wanted her safe and home again. If she thought that would happen faster if he kept his mouth shut and his head down, he would do that. No matter how much it hurt to think about. "I love you," he said.

"I love you, too. And don't worry. Everything is going to be fine."

S ATURDAY WAS A training day for Search and Rescue volunteers who had been with the organization for less than a year. Veteran volunteers Eldon Ramsey and Ryan Welch taught the class, which focused on climbing skills with an introduction to rigging ropes for various rescue scenarios. "Don't worry about memorizing all of this now," Eldon said. "Just focus on the idea that every situation is unique. Learn the basics, and you'll begin to see how to apply things like anchor points and leverage to the various scenarios you might encounter."

"Being in good shape and building strength will make everything easier for you," Ryan added. "But the right rigging allows us to safely lift an accident victim or another rescuer from a dicey situation without having to rely solely on brute force."

"But being strong doesn't hurt," Eldon said, and nodded at Zach. The two of them were easily the biggest team members.

They practiced working with the various brake bars, pulleys and other equipment for rigging, discussed safety precautions and things to avoid, then left with the assignment to spend at least one evening in the next week at the local climbing park, working on their climbing skills.

Afterward, Zach approached Eldon. "I always thought I was too big to be much of a climber," he said. "All the rock climbers I see are smaller and lighter."

"Not all of us are string beans." Eldon set aside the gear he had been packing away and faced Zach. "A lot of climbing is about using your legs to push you up. When things get really vertical, we have to haul more mass up with our arms and shoulders than the wiry, lighter guys, but we also have more muscle to rely on, so it evens out. I'd say the only real disadvantage is in tight spaces."

Zach nodded. "I guess I just need to get out there and try it."

"We should get together after work one day this week," Eldon said. "I can show you a few tips."

"I'd forgotten that you work for Zenith, too," Zach said.

"You want to head out to Caspar Canyon Wednesday after work?" Eldon asked.

Zach had never been to the popular climbing area, so why not make his first visit with an expert? "Sure. That would be great."

Eldon turned back to the duffel bag of gear. It clanked as he slipped the strap onto his shoulder. "Don't stress too much about the climbing," he said. "It's important to know the basics, but we don't all have to excel in every area. And big guys like us can always contribute."

Zach nodded. His size had always made him stand out in a crowd, but working search and rescue was the first time he had seen that as an advantage. He left the meeting feeling good about the progress he was making. He was fitting in well with the team, and he was even making a friend in Eldon. He hadn't really had a friend since Camille had disappeared from his life after the Chalk brothers' acquittal. He had told himself he didn't want to be close to anyone, but lately, he'd begun to feel differently.

That afternoon, the morning's discussion of the need to stay in shape still on his mind, he decided to go for a run. He didn't much like running, but at least around here there were trails that offered more scenery than a high-school track. He parked at a local trailhead and set out. He hadn't gone far before he heard someone coming up behind him. He slowed and looked back and was startled to see Shelby Dryden.

Dressed in black leggings and a formfitting black-and-purple Lycra top, a wide headband holding her dark hair back from her face and dark glasses blocking the sun's glare, she didn't look much like an FBI agent. She slowed as she neared him, and grinned. "I didn't know you were a runner, Zach," she said.

"I'm not, really." He turned and began to jog again, the fine grit of the trail crunching beneath his feet. "But I have to stay in shape for search and rescue work. Some of our rescues require hiking, and sometimes running, for miles."

She easily kept pace with him. "I have to pass a physical every year with the Bureau," she said.

"Have you ever had to run down a bad guy?" he asked.

"Not with the Bureau, but once when I was a sheriff's deputy, I chased a shoplifter two blocks and tackled him."

"I'll bet you were a hero for that," he said.

"Not exactly." She grimaced. "I was reprimanded because it made a bad impression for the public to see me tackle someone on the sidewalk."

"How did you end up with the FBI?" he asked.

"There was a case in our town, a multiple murder and a kidnapping. The suspected murderer was wanted on federal charges, so the FBI got involved. They had already given up the woman who was kidnapped for dead, but I kept digging and figured out where she probably was. I was right, and that got the attention of the special agent assigned to the case. He suggested I take a course at Quantico." She shrugged. "The sheriff I was working under wasn't very happy about being shown up by a woman—his words—so I decided maybe there was more opportunity for me with the Bureau."

"How long have you been a federal agent?" he asked.

"Three years. I met your sister not long after I graduated from the Academy. I was just supposed to interview her to update our file on the Chalk brothers, but the two of us really hit it off."

Zach nodded. He was getting winded, making it harder to talk, though Shelby was scarcely breathing hard, despite the higher altitude and steep climb.

"Camille and I used to run together," she said.

"Seriously? She was never one for working out or sports or anything."

"She told me one of her first WITSEC handlers was a runner and she would go out with him. It was something she could do that made her feel safe. That was before she moved to Maryland and was given her new identity. That first six months or so, before people settle into their new lives, is tough on everyone. They don't have jobs or friends, they're cut off from their families and they're not supposed to go anywhere alone. A lot of people can't stick it out, but Camille did."

"She was always stubborn." And independent. She had been determined to testify against the Chalk brothers. Just her, by herself. She would bring them down alone. She had made Zach believe she didn't need his help.

"I have her laptop."

He stumbled, then stopped and stared at her. She stopped also and turned back to him. "The sheriff's department recovered it from the rental van at the campsite."

Camille's laptop. Something personal that she had touched. "What's on it?" he asked.

"I haven't looked at it yet."

"Can I see it?" he asked.

She frowned. "I don't know if that's a good idea."

"There might be things on there—things she's written that you don't understand that I would. I mean, we grew up together. We were close. I know how her mind works." Or he used to. Camille had literally become a different person in the past four years. One he hadn't known.

"Let me see what I find first," she said. "If I think you can help me, I'll let you know."

"I want to see it," he said. "I mean, a laptop. That's personal, you know? If she's written things in files on there or searched particular websites or even downloaded certain games, it would help me know what was going through her head these past few years." He stared at the ground, wishing he was better at expressing himself. "It would make what happened seem more real, I think."

"I can't make promises," she said. "But I'll see what I can do."

It wasn't the answer he wanted, but it was better than he could have expected from most people. Most agents. He had thought from the first that Shelby wasn't like those unemotional, by-the-book agents his family had dealt with before and during the Chalk brothers trial. Maybe it was because Shelby had known Camille. The two of them had been friends. He liked knowing Camille had had a friend in her new life without him.

"Come on," she said. "Let's finish our run."

They set out again, Shelby taking the lead again. Zach didn't mind. She made an attractive picture, pounding up the trail ahead of him. She wore a small black pack—he wondered if it contained a gun. Probably. It must be a strange life, to believe you had to go everywhere armed.

"Did Camille date anyone in Maryland?" he asked.

Shelby slowed her pace a little to drop back and jog beside him. "Why do you want to know?"

"I'm trying to imagine what her life was like. She had a job and I assume an apartment or a house. Did she have a boyfriend? Someone more serious?"

"She had a house. A little bungalow near the park where we jogged. And she dated a few guys. One of the only complaints I ever heard her make was that she felt she couldn't have a real relationship with a man because she could never tell him the truth about the past."

"Do people do that—I mean, do they get married and have kids and stuff and their spouse never knows the truth?"

"I think some of them do. Others choose to tell the truth, and then the spouse has to be sworn to secrecy. But they make it work. Relationships are full of compromises. I guess this is just one more. But you would have to be really certain about the other person before you revealed that you were in witness security. Your life could depend on it."

"It makes me sad, knowing she felt she couldn't really be close to someone."

"She had one serious relationship," Shelby said. "With that first WITSEC handler—the guy she used to jog with. His bosses figured out he was developing feelings for her and reassigned him somewhere across the country."

He stopped again. "Wait a minute. They already took everything else away from her—they took that, too?"

"It's not a good idea for marshals and the people they're supposed to protect to get involved," she said. She pushed her hair back and readjusted the headband. "But yeah, it was pretty awful. But probably for the best."

"Because everybody has to play by the rules?"

"Because if he had really wanted to be with her, he could have found out where she was resettled. He would have had access to that information or known someone within the Marshals Service who did. It might not have been easy to uncover, but if he really loved her, he could have found out. But he didn't. Which tells me that once he was away from her, his feelings cooled."

They started running again. Zach focused on keeping an even pace, on breathing and on the trail. Anything but his sister and what must have been a lonely life so far from the people who loved her most.

They reached the top of the trail and began to run along a ridge. Zach caught his breath and his pace became easier. "What about you?" Shelby asked. "Are you involved with anyone in Eagle Mountain?"

"Isn't the answer to that question already in my file?"

"It isn't," she said. "There's no personal information at all."

"Huh." He looked away. "Then why bother keeping a file?"

"We kept track of your whereabouts in case there was any threat to your safety from the Chalk brothers."

"And is there?"

"Not that we've been able to ascertain."

"But you said Camille came here because she thought I was in danger."

"That was what she thought, but we never found any evidence to prove that. Which is one of the most frustrating things about her disappearance. If she had stayed put, both of you would be safe now."

He heard the anger in her voice—and the grief. "Maybe whatever she was worried about is somewhere on her laptop," he said.

She nodded. "Maybe so."

"Will you tell me if it is?"

She pushed the sunglasses to the top of her head and looked him in the eye. "If you're in danger, I'll tell you," she said. "Even if I'm not supposed to."

She didn't wait for his reaction, but turned and took off down the trail, running hard, putting distance between them.