Meeting Danger (Danger #1) (3 page)

“Hey.”

Camden turned around to a man about his own age, twenty-eight, well-built with close-cropped brown hair a little long on the top. Closing the short distance between them, Camden stuck out a hand.

“I’m Cameron. Cam.”

The man frowned down at Camden’s hand for a moment before accepting it. “Brian.”

“How long have you been here?” Camden asked.

“Too long,” Brian muttered. “How about you? Just got convicted?”

“No. I was transferred from Fayette. Something about overcrowding.”

“What are you in for?”

Camden folded his arms across his chest. “It’s drug related. You?”

Brian scoffed. “You haven’t heard? You’re bunking with a murderer.” When Camden didn’t respond, Brian added, “I’m innocent, though.”

“You are?” Camden schooled his features, not wanting to reveal his doubts. Every convict claimed he was innocent. Why should Brian be any different?

Brian nodded.

“You doing anything about that?”

“Been writing nonstop to innocence projects.”

“Any response?”

“Only one. They don’t take a case unless there’s new evidence, clothing or something else that can be tested for DNA.”

“Do you have that?”

“Shit, man, I was framed. The evidence they have already belongs to me.”

Camden frowned. “You were framed?”

“I don’t expect you to believe me.”

Holding up his hands in mock surrender, Camden kept his tone light. “It doesn’t matter what I believe.”

“You got that right.” Brian climbed onto his bunk, effectively ending the conversation.

Camden gazed at him for a few seconds before taking a seat on his own mattress, thin and lumpy, and . . .
What the hell are these stains?

Whether his cell mate was innocent or not, he wasn’t the friendliest person Camden had ever met.

It’s going to be a long few weeks in here.

Newburgh, New York

“You never talk.”

The bite of toast Autumn had just taken lodged inside her throat. She swallowed hard against it. “What?”

Butch had finished his omelet and was now staring at her. “You never say anything.”

She studied him. His voice was level and he didn’t appear angry, but what in the world was this? The eggs she’d eaten churned inside her stomach.

“Do you want me to talk?”

“Definitely,” he said with a smirk. “I want to hear all those intelligent things you have to say.”

Autumn blinked. He was making fun of her; that’s what this was. Why, she had no idea, but it didn’t take much for Butch. He was probably bored. Unfortunately, today was a Saturday, so he’d be around most of the day.

Ignoring the needling, she stood to pick up their breakfast plates. “I saw a pot roast recipe I’d like to try. Do you think we can make it to the store today?”

“Not if you’re just going to burn it like you did the chicken last week.”

Autumn bristled but somehow managed to hold his gaze. “I won’t burn anything.” Despite her fear of him, keeping her voice level when he was provoking her was a challenge. “I’ll just get dressed.”

As she started away from the table, Butch grabbed her arm and yanked her back in front of him. Her heart raced as his lip turned up into a sneer.

“See that you don’t. I was nice to you about it the last time.”

“Right,” she whispered.

His gaze lingered on her hair and she held her breath. Was he going to order her to bleach it out again? The platinum bleach job he’d insisted on last year had finally grown out and her hair was back to its normal honey-colored shade of blond. In her opinion, her hair had looked trashy bleached. It wasn’t something she wished to return to.

Butch didn’t make any further demands. He let her go and she made her way down the hallway. Her heart was still pounding against her rib cage as she stepped inside the bathroom and turned on the shower.

As she waited for the water to warm, her thoughts drifted to her older brother as they often did when she had a quiet moment alone. Five years later and she still couldn’t believe Wade had left her with Butch. She’d been stunned the day he’d brought her to a club in Chicago, introduced her to Butch, handed over her bag, and walked back to his bike.

She’d never even met Butch before, had no idea he was one of Wade’s friends. She wasn’t even sure what his real first name was, just knew that his road name, his nickname at the club, was “Butch.”

Before her brother had ridden away, she’d begged him to tell her what was going on. All Wade had said was that he wasn’t going to be able to take care of her any longer, and that Butch would be helping her instead.

One look at Butch’s leering face after Wade had roared off told her all she’d needed to know. Despite her shock and confusion, the hunger in his eyes had registered. She might have only been seventeen at the time—and a virgin—but it had quickly become clear what he expected in exchange for a roof over her head and food in her belly.

Shuddering, she remembered their first night together. Butch had groped her until he’d finally taken her virginity. She’d cried herself to sleep. The next day, Butch put her on the back of his bike and headed for Newburgh.

Throughout those first days, she’d constantly asked him about Wade, but Butch had ignored her until he finally told her to forget him. A few days later when she’d mentioned Wade again, Butch had become enraged. He’d slapped her hard and told her she’d better shut up about him. Autumn had slumped against a wall, clutching her bruised cheek. She’d never again spoken her brother’s name.

She had, however, tried to contact Wade. One day when Butch was out, she’d taken the risk of calling. Trying not to think of what would happen when Butch saw the phone bill, she’d quickly dialed their old apartment’s phone number, but the number had been disconnected. Because of their financial troubles, Wade had never owned a cell phone, so he couldn’t be reached that way either.

All these years later, the betrayal and disappointment still hurt, but Autumn had never given up hope that her brother might return for her, might help her escape from Butch. He’d left her at the club in Chicago, so he didn’t know where Butch lived, but he could have asked someone, could have tracked her down.

A year after she was left with Butch, he decided to move to another house. He’d said he’d wanted something bigger and this property was large, with an old barn he used to store and work on his bikes.

Maybe in the years since, Wade had gone to Butch’s old address to try to find her. But he had never made it here.

• • •

When Autumn and Butch returned from their shopping trip, she unpacked some cans and went into the garage to put them away.

While trying to place them on the top of the garage’s storage shelf, she lost her balance. She was able to right herself, but her motions toppled the already unstable shelf, sending its contents crashing to the floor.

Butch burst into the garage, scowling. “What the hell is going on?”

“The shelf fell.”

In a huff, he pushed past her. “Can’t you do anything without fucking it up?”

Autumn stiffened when he muttered the word
stupid
under his breath. Butch was a miserable person, and she should know better than to let what he said affect her. But the word still stung. Maybe it was because he hadn’t completely missed the mark.

He looked over his shoulder as he took hold of the shelf. “Well?”

Her stomach contracted painfully. There was only one thing she could say at this point. “I’m sorry.”

Hopefully that would be the end of his rant. It wasn’t. Autumn’s head began to pound as he continued.

“You’re sorry,” he mimicked. He cursed her as he turned back to the shelf, found the support peg that had fallen, and set it back into place.

It was exactly what she’d been about to do, but she wasn’t about to say that to Butch. You didn’t stand up to Butch Cobb.

Not unless you actually were stupid.

Scranton, Pennsylvania

“You’ll find him, right?” Caleb’s mother nervously twists the tissue she holds. The woman looks like a younger version of Camden’s own mother, although he’s never seen his mother anywhere near this upset.

“We’ll find him. I promise,” he tells her.

“Alive?” She chokes out the word.

“Yes,” he says, his words a solemn promise.

In the next instant, Camden is inexplicably driving a car with Grayson in the passenger seat, following a tip from a homeowner that the vacant cabin across the street has been occupied for the past few days. The owners live out of state, and the neighbor insisted that they never come to the cabin in winter.

Camden maneuvers the car around a curve, heading up the mountain to the address they’d been given. Just as he rounds a bend, bright lights wash over them as a vehicle passes them, speeding down the mountain in the other direction.

“Think that’s them?” Grayson asks.

Camden slows, trying to get a good look at the car as it hurtles by. “Not sure. He’s going pretty fast, but maybe he’s just a speeder. I’ll follow him.” He pulls onto the shoulder, intending to turn around.

“Cam, look.” Grayson points out the windshield to a patch of sky glowing in the darkness.

A fire.
Camden pulls back onto the road as his partner radios in a description of the car and requests firefighters and an ambulance. When they pull up to the structure engulfed in flames, the address matches the one provided on the tip line.

Camden jumps out of the car and when he reaches the cabin’s front door, he twists the knob and curses when it won’t open. Fisting his hand inside the sleeve of his coat, he punches in the glass sidelight. Shards rip into his sleeve as he reaches inside to turn the lock.

With his heart hammering in his chest, he runs inside.
Is Caleb in here?

Choking from the smoke, he pulls the neck of his T-shirt over his nose, dropping to a crouch to find fresher air. “Federal agents! I’m going to help you, Caleb!”

It’s dangerous to stay much longer, but if the boy is inside, he needs to hear some reassurance. Camden shouts again, but the roar of the fire is deafening, drowning out his words.

As he pushes toward the back of the house, a beam cracks overhead. His gaze shoots up to the ceiling . . .

• • •

Camden’s back was drenched with sweat as his eyes snapped open. He sat up and swung his feet onto the floor, lowering his head as he gulped for air.

He tried to calm the insane beating of his heart as he stared into the darkness. Above him, bedsprings squeaked as his cell mate turned over.

Guessing there was at least another hour until dawn, Camden forced himself to lie back down. But sleep didn’t come again. The minutes ticked by as his thoughts centered on Caleb.

What kind of terror had the boy experienced in his last minutes before he was shot? Was he still alive when the fire started? Did he know he was going to die?

The kidnappers had been caught, had been put on trial and found guilty of not only kidnapping, but also murder. But justice came with little comfort. There was no way to bring Caleb back, to ease his mother’s grief and Camden’s guilt.

The only thing he could do was make this assignment a success. He closed his eyes and forced his mind to the task at hand.

When the cell block’s lights buzzed and switched on an hour later, Brian jumped down from the top bunk. “What the hell happened to you last night?”

Weary, Camden sat up, rubbing his face. “Nightmare.”

Brian turned the faucet on and looked over his shoulder. “Some nightmare.”

“Yeah.”

The bell went off while Brian finished at the sink. He grabbed his shirt and pulled it over his head as the door of their cell clanged open.

He glanced back at Camden. “Later.”

“Later.”

Camden rose from his bunk. Soon he too was dressed and heading out of the cell for his first prison breakfast. The guard standing in front of the dining hall gave him a subtle nod.

As he moved down the cafeteria line, inmates working the serving line filled Camden’s tray with limp bacon, watery-looking eggs, and toast. He grabbed a carton of juice from an ice chest before walking into the seating area and surveying the rows of long tables, feeling oddly like he was back in high school again. The first day in a new assignment was always a bitch.

He couldn’t see Phillips anywhere, but he did spot Brian sitting alone. He walked over.

“Okay if I join you?”

Brian shrugged. “Why not?”

Camden took a seat on the bench across from his cell mate. “You always eat alone?”

“What do you care?” Brian said before downing a bite of cereal.

“Just wondering.”

Brian returned his gaze to his bowl and resumed eating. “You should think about your own situation instead.”

Camden forked up some eggs. “Right.”

They ate in silence until Brian finally offered, “I used to sit with Noah.” He jerked his head over his shoulder, indicating a table off to the side. “Then Noah’s friend Declan got mad at me. Which means Noah is pissed by default. They’re worse than a bunch of girls.”

Camden studied the men sitting at the other table. Each looked like they outweighed their fellow inmates by a hundred pounds. “Beefy guys.”

Brian fingered a fairly fresh cut in the center of his forehead. “Yeah.”

“Did you get that because of them?” When he didn’t answer, Camden studied him. “What happened?”

“I took their lunch money and they got mad.”

Camden arched an eyebrow and Brian sighed.

“Noah and I had a disagreement about whether I’d be helping Declan smuggle things into the prison. I decided I didn’t want to, and it pissed them both off.”

“How exactly did they expect you to smuggle things in?”

“I work in the kitchen, accepting deliveries.”

“I see.”

A middle-aged inmate with silver hair approached them. “Still want it?” the man asked Brian.

He set his spoon down. “Yeah.”

“You’ve got the stamps?”

“Uh-huh.”

The older inmate glanced toward where a guard stood. “Come by this afternoon.”