Hank
AFTER THE ALIBI
For a moment, I thought I was going to have to cancel my plans with Camille, thinking I'd be tied up at Aubrey's.
But a very terse conversation with Deacon changed that.
After hearing about what happened today at their house, it's clear Frank was a plant, because the second he got his hands on that drive, he was gone.
I have my suspicions about who he works for.
Camille hasn't answered any of my calls, which is also concerning. I'm a couple of hours earlier than she's expecting me but my gut tells me something isn't right.
Pulling up to her parents' place, I park between the house and a big metal building.
When I get out of the car, I see the shop door is wide open, the wind causing it to bang on the side wall.
I decide to secure it before heading to the house.
The second I get to the opening I see Camille on the ground and I'm running full speed to get to her.
Blood pools beneath her head and the scene is so reminiscent of how Ben was found that I'm terrified Camille has somehow met the same fate.
Dropping down next to her, the first thing I do is check for a pulse.
The relief is sharp when I feel the steady beat of her heart, but the volume of blood oozing from the wound on her head scares the shit out of me.
Part of me is afraid to touch her in case there's a chance I could do more damage, but the other part knows she needs medical attention immediately and we are miles from the nearest hospital.
Checking quickly for any other visible wounds, I scoop her up and jog toward the exit. Silas and another man are just coming in when I get to the door.
"What the hell happened?" Silas yells.
"Found her like this. She's bleeding and unconscious."
He doesn't ask any other questions, just runs to my truck since it's the closest vehicle, while the other guy ducks back inside the shop. Silas opens the back seat door and helps me get her inside. "Hold on to her. I'll drive."
Silas gets in the driver's seat and cranks the engine. Then the other guy is back, with a stack of shop towels. "These are brand new, never been used." He passes them to me then gets in the passenger seat. Within seconds we are speeding down the driveway to the blacktop road.
I apply one of the towels to the wound, putting pressure on it. Camille doesn't even stir.
Silas throws the guy with him his phone. "Call the doc and tell him we're on the way."
He looks familiar but I can't place him.
"I know it may take a little longer to get there but we need to take her to Baton Rouge."
Silas nods. "We are. Just making sure my guy is there though."
That sounds shady as shit but I don't argue. Only thing that's important right now is getting Camille help.
Finally, it dawns on me where I know the guy in the passenger seat from.
The report Scott made me on all of Aubrey's housemates.
Other than Deacon and the two guys who restored the Mustang, the only other person who lives there is Tammy Simpson, aka Serenity Woods.
She teaches yoga and claims she can see not only your past lives but also your future.
She's also been arrested multiple times for passing fake checks, forgery, and fraud.
Married and divorced four times, the last marriage ended prior to her moving in that house two years ago.
But one of the pictures Scott included from social media showed her with a new boyfriend. The guy sitting in the front seat.
"You're Frank, Tammy's boyfriend."
He throws me a look. "She prefers to go by Serenity."
I look at Silas. "You planted him there to watch Aubrey."
He doesn't answer me, which is fine because it wasn't really a question.
Before I can ask him anything else, Silas says, "We'll talk about this later, Hank. After we make sure Camille is okay."
Silas is sitting in the hard plastic chair while I'm pacing a hole in the rug in front of him. It was a scene straight out of one of those medical TV shows when we pulled up at the hospital. Whoever Frank called to alert we were on the way was more than ready for us.
Within seconds, Camille was whisked out of my arms, on a gurney, and disappearing through the sliding glass doors with at least eight people tending to her.
They've got her behind a closed door now, checking her out, while we wait. Frank has disappeared to God knows where. Silas hasn't said a word, just sits with his arms crossed while he stares at the wall across from him.
Me, I can't sit. I can't stand still. The only thing I can do is walk back and forth and back and forth.
About half an hour later, the door opens and I grind to a stop while Silas pops up from his chair and moves closer to the doctor coming to talk to us. They shake hands and it's clear this is "his guy."
"How is she?" he asks.
The doctor spares me a glance then gives all his attention to Silas.
"She's going to be okay. Got hit on the head pretty hard.
Needed a few stitches so we called in someone from plastics to make sure it won't be too noticeable when it heals.
She's got a concussion. Camille was pretty foggy when she came to, but we ran some tests and don't think there will be any lasting damage.
We want to keep her for at least twenty-four hours for observation, then she can be released as long as someone is available to watch her closely over the next few days.
She will have to follow concussion protocol. "
From my football days, I'm very aware of what happens after someone has a concussion. Lots of rest, especially mental rest, which means limited screen time. And after our conversation this morning, I know she doesn't want to be at her parents' house.
"I can watch over her."
Silas and the doctor both turn to look at me.
I didn't really mean to blurt it out like that but it doesn't mean my offer isn't genuine.
Silas turns back to the doctor. "When can we see her?"
"I can let you go in now. Just remember she needs rest and as little stress as possible."
Silas barely lets him finish before he's walking past him into the room. I'm close behind him.
Camille looks small in the hospital bed. There's a bandage covering the wound on her forehead. Her eyes are closed but she must hear us enter because she says in a weak voice, "Am I dead?"
Silas lets out a relieved laugh. "No, but I should kill you for scaring me like that." He goes to one side while I take the other. She opens her eyes, clearly surprised at seeing us both here together.
"How are you feeling?" I ask her.
"Like someone hit me on the head."
Silas leans close, all playfulness gone. "Who did this to you?"
She licks her lips and has to clear her throat before she can manage to get the words out. "Margaret."
This knocks me back while Silas doesn't seem surprised his wife attacked his sister.
But he does seem to be struggling with wanting to be here with her and also wanting to track down his wife.
"I can stay with her if there's something you need to take care of."
He stares at me long enough that I know he's weighing his options. Then he looks at Camille. "I won't be long." He squeezes her hand, then leaves the room.
Camille shifts in the bed until she's turned slightly my way. She winces at the movement.
"Do you need anything? Water? Pain meds?" The curtains are drawn and the overhead lights are off. The only light in the room is coming from the variety of monitors next to the bed.
"No. I want you to tell me what happened. How did I get here?"
I give her a quick rundown of how I found her and the ensuing events. She takes in everything I tell her with watery eyes.
Pulling a chair close the side of the bed, I sit so she doesn't have to look up at me. "Camille, it's time to trust me and tell me what's going on."
"Oh, Hank. It's so bad." Once she starts, the words just tumble out. Everything leading up to last Saturday when Aubrey Price spent the day as her, the same day Ben died, then the events of this week, including Silas's right-hand man, Frank, and the USB drive he showed up with this afternoon.
I lean back in my chair, my hands running through my hair as my mind tries to process what she's telling me.
Half of this story is new information, but the other half I already knew.
And it's colliding in the most mind-blowing way.
When I get somewhat of a grasp on what she's told me, I fill in a few holes she has, telling her about my visit to Aubrey's house and the bar where she works as well as my conversation with Paul today.
"But why would Margaret attack you like this?"
"Silas thought he was the one driving Paul's truck all these years, only to find out this afternoon that Margaret was the driver."
"There is a video that shows this?"
"Yes, I watched it this afternoon with Silas."
I wait for her to say more but she doesn't. "And? What's he going to do, because I don't see him going to the cops."
"I told you my family isn't like other families. They tend to take care of their own problems."
These hospital chairs fold out into beds but that's a very generous description of the surface I'm currently lying on. The nurses checked on Camille half an hour ago and she's finally drifted off to sleep.
The door opens and I shield my eyes from the crack of light from the hallway. It takes me a few seconds to see it's Silas.
He shuts the door and walks to the edge of Camille's bed. "How is she?" he whispers.
"Seems a little better. Had a nasty headache a little while ago but the meds seem to have gotten it under control. Do I even want to know what you've been doing?"
He's been gone for hours.
"Looking for my wife, who seems to have disappeared."
"Say no more." Because honestly, the less I'm dragged into this, the better.
"Did she tell you everything?"
I nod. "She did."
Silas watches her for another long moment.
I pull the lever, converting this bed back to a chair. "She doesn't want to go back to Corbeau. I've got plenty of room at my house and can work from home for the next few days so I can make sure she follows the concussion protocol."
Silas doesn't say anything, just nods again.
I'm not sure how long we stay like this, quietly watching Camille in the dark. Finally, he turns to me. "I can stay if you need to get home. Your truck is outside." He tosses the remote and I catch it in midair.
"Thanks, but I'm good. Hopefully, I can take her with me in the morning."
Silas moves to the door. "I'll come by your house tomorrow to check on her. Bring her things from Mom and Dad's so she has some clothes. And then we probably need to have a conversation."
I nod. "Yeah, I've got a couple of things I want to go over with you."
Scott just emailed me the list of people who were at Paul's that night and one in particular stuck out.