The Strategist (16 page)

But she couldn’t run away. Not from this.

She picked it up and looked at Pine; his anxious face mirroring hers. She closed her eyes, took a quiet breath, and tore the envelope open. A large silver key fell out and landed in her lap. She left it there while she pulled out the note. Julia’s handwriting was immediately evident, so perfect it could have been generated by a printing press. When she looked at the note closer, the first two words immediately caught her eye, and seeing them made every cell in her body scream out in agonizing pain.

‘
Dear Cam
’

CHAPTER 25

W
ith eyes that had already begun to swell, Camille thanked Pine and quickly left his office. She felt bad about the abrupt exit, but knew that if she had stayed any longer, Pine would have been stuck in the uncomfortable position of trying to console someone who was beyond consoling. Aside from not wanting to disrupt his day in such a fashion, there was no way she could allow herself to be that vulnerable with someone she had just met, no matter how positive her first impression of him was.

So she waited until she got to her car before reading the rest of the note. But when she got there she was once again hesitant. In an effort to stall, she took the key out of her pocket and studied it closely. It was unlike any she had ever seen, with a large ring and two small grooves on either end of a long, thin cylinder. The thought of what such a key might open unnerved her, and she suddenly questioned her desire to know. But she quickly pushed the thought aside. After taking a series of deep, measured breaths, she slowly unfolded the paper and continued reading.

Dear Cam,

I wrote this note fully intending that you

would never have to read it. Sounds kinda

dumb, right? It does to me too. Writing a

note to someone that you never want that

person to see. But in this case, it’s true.

I never wanted you to read it. Because

if you are, it means only one thing. And

right now that’s a scenario I can’t bear

to imagine. But it is one that I’m

obviously very fearful of.

I guess ‘sorry’ isn’t the appropriate word to

use, even though it’s the first one that comes

to mind. I’m sorry I put you in this position.

I’m sorry I wasn’t as forthright with you

as I should have been. I’m sorry I’m

not there to fight a battle that is entirely

mine to fight. I’m sorry I’m not there to say

thank you for being the only reason I’ve

been able to make it this far.

Camille began to sob so loudly that she worried people walking down
the street would hear and come rushing up to her car. She buried her head in her hands in an effort to muffle the noise. It didn’t work. Five long minutes passed before she could calm down long enough to continue reading.

A series of events have occurred over the past

six years that have led to this point; events that

I wasn’t able to explain to you in detail – either

because I didn’t have time to, or more likely

because I was afraid to. I can’t go into great

detail here, otherwise this letter would turn into

a novel, and we both know I’m not the world’s

gr
eatest writer!

But the key I left is for a safe deposit box that I

opened in your name. Inside that box is a flash

disk. You’ll find everything you need there. I’m

sorry to say you won’t be happy
when you learn

what’s on it, especially
when you discover my

personal role in
everything. But it was important

to tell
you the entire truth; not only of the

situation that led to this, but also of

my unfortunate part in it. All I can say

is I hope you will eventually forgive

me. I  understand there are bigger

things at stake than your forgiveness.

But I hope that when the smoke clears,

and with your involvement I’m confident

it will, forgiveness is a place  you can

eventually get to.

The last thing I’ll say is that the people

who did this to me are very recognizable.

And they’re also very, very dangerous.

The things they are involved in go deeper

than even I understand. But their agenda

is clear. And it needs to be stopped. I said

earlier that I’m sorry I put you in this

position, and I am. This is something I

should have done myself. But I was too

afraid. And with good reason. But you’re

better than me. Stronger than me. Braver

than me. You always have been.

That’s why I’m trusting you to do what

I couldn’t. But please be careful doing it.

When you’re finished with them, make it

a point to nail their asses right  to the wall!

Tough talk from a wimp, right?

The safe deposit box is located at the

First Western Bank on 17th and Broadway.

Get there as soon as you possibly can.

Once you see what’s inside, you’ll

understand my sense of urgency.

I love you so much Cam!
And again,

I’m sorry.

~Jules

The letter was so overwhelming that Camille didn’t even attempt to process the words or what they meant. There would be plenty of time for that. Instead she chose to focus on the clear- cut instructions Julia had given her.
Get there as soon as you possibly can
.
Once you see what’s inside, you’ll understand my sense of urgency
.

But it wasn’t urgency but that made Camille peel out of her parking spot, speed though two red lights, and sprint mindlessly past everyone between her and the First Western Bank lobby.

It was anger.

CHAPTER 26

S
crew you, Julia. Why didn’t you tell me? I could have helped you. I would have done anything to help you. Sixteen years and all I have left of you is this goddamn note and a safe deposit box key? After everything that’s happened? Why didn’t you just tell me? You selfish bitch.

Camille’s gasp echoed through the crowded bank. For the first time in her life, she genuinely hated herself. She knew those thoughts came from a place of anger and sadness and loss. But she never should have given voice to them. 
I’m so sorry. I swear I didn’t mean any of it
.

She was on the verge of breaking down and knew that she needed to get whatever was inside that box and leave as soon as possible.

After a couple of minutes, a heavy set man in a seersucker suit approached her. “Ms. Grisham? My name is Raphael. I was told you’re here to open your safe deposit box.”

“Yes.”

Raphael consulted the piece of paper in his hand. “I see you are a co-signer on the box along with Julia Leeds.”

Camille nodded.

“Very good. If I can just see your ID, we can get you back there.”

Camille showed him her driver’s license, shaking with anticipation as she did.

“Thank you,” he said as he glanced at it and handed it back. “Right this way please.”  

He led Camille past a row of tellers and executive offices into a long, narrow corridor that led to a set of double doors.

“And you have the key?” Raphael asked over his shoulder as he continued walking.

Camille pulled the key out of her pocket and held it up. “Yes.”

Once they reached the doors, Raphael punched in a code on a keypad above the door handle. A green light flashed and he pulled the handle.

“Right this way.”

They entered a large room that housed rows of safe deposit boxes as far as her eye could see. People stored all manner of valuables here: family heirlooms, expensive jewelry, and in Julia’s case, terrible secrets.

“Ms. Leeds was here just last week putting items in the box.” He paused as if waiting for a response. When Camille said nothing
, he continued. “She’d been a customer of the bank for a long time, and a lot of us knew her quite well. Needless to say we were all devastated when we heard the news.”

Camille could only nod.

“Julia actually mentioned you a couple of times during that visit,” Raphael continued. “She said that after she finished she would be picking you up from the airport. Called you her bestie.” He said ‘bestie’ with the knowing smile of someone who had a lot of experience using the term.  “She also said that you would likely be picking up the items in the box because most of them belonged to you.”

This was of course news to Camille, but she played along. “I just didn’t think I would be picking them up this soon.”

The man’s face took on a solemn expression. He was silent as they stopped in front of a box labeled 682 F. He fished in his coat pocket until he pulled out a key that looked exactly like the one Camille had.

“May I have y
our key please?”

Camille handed it to him and watched as he inserted it into a narrow slot. He then took his key and inserted it in the slot below. He turned both, opened the door and pulled out a short metal box. He set it on a table in front of them.

“Here you are, Ms. Grisham. If you have any questions or concerns I’ll be right over there.” He pointed to a chair and desk near the door they came through. His smile had returned.

“Thanks for your help, Raphael,” Camille answered, countering his smile with one of her own.
Good soul
, she thought about him, not really knowing why. The only thing she did know was that good souls were in very short supply these days.

He walked to his desk and sat down, leaving Camille alone with the box.

She stared at it for a long time. Since reading the letter she could think of nothing else except opening it. But suddenly she was afraid to. Her mind was flooded with so many possibilities that she hadn’t even tried to conceive of what could be inside. Now that she actually stood in front of it, her mind drifted to very dark places. Whatever was in here stood as a final testament to Julia’s life; something so valuable that it needed to live on even after she didn’t. Opening this box would bring finality to Julia’s life that Camille had managed to keep at a distance up to this point.

But there was something else that made her afraid; a thought she hadn’t been able to shake ever since she read the note.

Julia knew this was going to happen.

She knew it when she picked Camille up from the airport. She knew it when she insisted her problems could wait even though Camille knew otherwise. She knew it when she called Camille for the last time.

Julia’s reluctance to talk now made even less sense than it did before. If she was concerned enough to go through all of this trouble with the safe deposit box and the envelope, why didn’t she say anything? Of anyone she knew, Camille would have been in the best position to help her; not by retrieving some information from a safe deposit box after she was dead, but by going after whoever was trying to hurt her while she was alive. The Circle Killer and the psychological trauma he caused be damned. Camille would have faced down ten Daniel Sykes’ if that’s what it took to protect her best friend.

But she wouldn’t get that chance now. Julia was dead. And Camille was left with the now all too familiar feeling of knowing she could have done something to prevent it. Her sadness once again turned to anger.

Camille held her breath as she reached for the latch.

Five… four… three… two… one …

Then she closed her eyes, slowly exhaled, and lifted the lid.

CHAPTER 27

T
he first thing Camille saw was a legal sized piece of paper folded into quarters. She took it out of the box and unfolded it, immediately recognizing Julia’s handwriting again. There were three short paragraphs of text followed by a long list of bulleted items. Unsure that she could trust her reaction, Camille resisted the urge to read more closely.

She set the paper on the table and turned back to the box. The only other item inside was a sealed envelope that looked a lot like the one Julia had left with Laurence Pine. She picked it up and felt something hard and rectangular shaped inside.

Not feeling ready to open the envelope, she set it next to the paper, closed the box and called for Raphael.

“All finished?” he asked as he quickly approached.

“All finished,” she answered. 

He nodded, then opened the box. “Will you be leaving anything else behind?”

“I don’t think so.”

“Are you sure? Ms. Leeds pre-paid
for six months, so if you need more time…”

“I’m positive. But thank you.”

“No problem,” Raphael said as he closed the box and slid it back into its wall slot. “If you’re ready, please follow me.”

Once Camille got back to her car she felt safe enough to open the envelope. Inside was the flash disk that Julia spoke of in the original note. She immediately put it inside her jacket pocket, then unfolded the paper.

Julia’s handwriting covered nearly every inch of the page, including the margins, which was uncharacteristically sloppy for her. The script also didn’t have the refined edge that Julia’s writing normally had. It looked rushed, almost as if she couldn’t write fast enough to keep pace with her thoughts.

The words ‘
Insurance Policy
’ were written in large block letters at the top of the paper. Below that, Camille saw her name again, followed by a succinctly-written list of facts that didn’t make much sense.

You can contact my personal lawyer Laurence Pine

in regard to the Excel file ‘Schumann-Springwell’

He’ll know what to do with it.

I forgot to include the name of the investment manager

for the Colorado PERA account. Nicolas Jacoby. He

works for the Schumann Investment Group.

‘Some of these files are self-explanatory, while some you

won’t be able to make heads or tails out of. What you

can’t figure out, the Securities and Exchange Commission

can. Don’t hesitate to get them involved if you have to.’

And then there was the paragraph that most got Camille’s attention.

Even though it’s the last thing I want you to

see,
please make sure you watch the movie file first.

Very painful and embarrassing, but it’s also very

important. You may recognize the man in the

video, but if you don’t, all you have to do is turn

to the political section of any Colorado newspaper.

He did this to me Camille. I may not have direct

proof to substantiate that, but I’m telling you he did.

After that, Camille couldn’t read any further. Her stomach turned and she thought she was going to be sick. She took a long pull from a half-empty water bottle that was sitting in the cup holder, not knowing or caring how long it had been sitting there. After opening the window and taking in a couple deep breaths, she felt a little better.

Then she felt the weight of the flash disk in her pocket and her stomach suddenly felt queasy again.

There was probably more on that disk than she could even imagine, and Julia had entrusted her to keep it safe. But it didn’t matter what kind of information was stored on it, the fact that Julia died over what amounted a two inch piece of plastic was overwhelming in its absurdity. And no matter what she saw in the movie file, no matter who the man was in it, no matter the physical or emotional risk to herself, Camille simply could not let that pass.

‘
He did this to me, Camille
.’

Powered by a sudden surge of adrenaline, Camille started the car
and sped away. All she could think about now was getting to a computer. Though her father had perfectly capable PC in his office, Camille would have to use her own. She may eventually call on him to help, but she knew that what she was about to see required absolute privacy. Julia had entrusted her with this disk above everyone else, even her own family. Camille had to honor that, even if it meant that her father could never see what was on it.

When she got home, she walked into the living room and saw him sitting in front of the TV. He
greeted her with a thin smile.

“Sorry, I haven’t been able to turn it off.”

Camille took off her coat and sat down next to him. “You don’t have anything to apologize for.” She glanced at the TV and saw that it was tuned to CNN Headline News. “Have you heard anything else?”

“The bastards are already sensationalizing it with a tagline: ‘Beautiful young lawyer gunned down in home invasion.’” He shook his head. “They’re also saying that the department is looking at a person of interest in the case, but they aren’t giving a name.”

“Smells like BS to me,” Camille said as the newscast abruptly transitioned to a report on the disappearance of honey bees.

Paul turned off the television. “When you were talking to the detectives, did they mention anything about having a suspect in mind?”

“They did. A mail clerk at Julia’s firm.”

“And what do you think about that?”

“Not much.”

“As in you don’t buy him as a suspect?”

“As in I’d bet my life that he had nothing to do with it.”

Paul’s eyes widened. “And did you tell them that?”

“I’m not in the FBI anymore, dad. Why would they care what I think?”

Paul’s expression flattened. “What did you think about the detectives?”

“Graham’s an asshole.”

Paul chuckled. “You certainly read that one correctly.”

“He talked about how he wished he got the chance to work with you on the detective beat because you were such a great cop. No one can dispute that you were a great cop, but it didn’t sound the least bit sincere coming from him.”

Paul leaned back on the couch and briefly reflected. “I could tell you stories about Walter Graham. He’s not nearly as well-liked in the department as he thinks he is.”

“If I had to wager a guess, I’d say there was some dirt somewhere in his past.”

One side of Paul’s mouth curled up in a tight smile. “Like I said, I could tell you some stories. But we’ll save those for another time.”

“His partner seems pretty solid.”

“What’s his name?”

“
Her
name is Chloe Sullivan.”

Paul blushed. “I’m familiar with her. She was a beat cop when I was around. Good one too. Nice to know she made her way up.”

“She kind of reminds me of myself,” Camille said, finally giving voice to something she had thought from the moment she met Sullivan.

Paul put a hand on his daughter’s knee. “If she’s anything like you, then the monster who did this doesn’t stand a chance.

Camille tried to imagine the face of the man in the video she had yet to watch.

He did this to me, Camille
. 

“Let’s hope you’re right.”

Paul stood up. “So did all that driving help you work up an appetite? I can get that grilled cheese ready for you in five minutes.”

“I grabbed a Quarter Pounder on the way home,” Camille said. Another simple but necessary lie. As much as her father’s presence comforted her, she couldn’t afford to spend another second down here.

“Can I make you a cup of tea or something?”

“More than anything I just need to lay down. I don’t know if I’ll even be able to sleep right now, but I need to try.”

“Okay. If you need a little help, I have some Tylenol P.M. in the medicine cabinet.”

Camille didn’t have the heart to tell him that she had something five times stronger tucked away in her nightstand. “Thanks.”

“Not a problem. If you’re going to be sleep, I may just head out for a while. As hard as it’s been to concentrate on anything else but you, there are actually few errands I need to run. But only if you’re sure you’ll be okay here by yourself.”

I actually prefer
it
was what she wanted to say to him. “I promise I’ll be fine,” was what she said instead.

“Then I’ll get out of your hair for a while.” He kissed her on the forehead, took the car keys that Camille set down on the coffee table
, and left.

Camille waited until she heard him get in his car and drive away before she rushed upstairs to her bedroom. She c
ouldn’t get there fast enough.