Fragmented (7 page)

Tired, Brophy needed to concentrate on the case. He breathed deep. He wasn’t going to tell Darren he was embarrassed. He had never thought about the consequences of getting caught.

“It’s over now.”

Darren slapped Brophy on the back.
“Family is family. Let me know when you bring in the suspect. I’ll be waiting.”

Brophy nodded, turned and made his way down to the car. Much as he hated to admit it, he felt a weight had been lifted, but he let it go. He didn’t have time to think about it. The only thing that mattered at the moment was the suspect he needed to pick up.

Brophy drove down Huntington Avenue with Waters. As with most Saturday nights, the street was filled with walking shadows. Dangerously, cars turned without warning, bicyclists rode with no regard of traffic laws, and drunken students stumbled out into the street without a thought to the oncoming traffic.

Waters parked on a side street by
Zachary Quinn’s dorm. A sudden breeze gusted when Brophy got out of the car, the promise of the coming snowfall. He hoped to have his suspect behind bars before the storm broke.

Brophy took a quick glance around the area. The black
-and-white sat at the front entrance. Brophy grimaced. He didn’t like it that they had no one inside the lobby. The kid could have gone out another entrance…but it was early yet. Maybe, they would luck out. He had images of having to hunt him down in the midst of a snowstorm. Not what he had planned for the night.

Brophy motioned for the uniforms to join them. Then the four of them walked into the building, only to be halted by the kid behind the dorm’s reception desk. He refused to buzz them in. Brophy almost laughed. He thought for a moment that Waters was going to go through the glass door to strangle the kid.

The kid reached for the phone. “I just need to call security.”

Waters slammed the security glass.
“Obviously, I haven’t made myself clear,” Waters said to the kid behind the reception desk, holding up his search warrant and badge. “This little piece of paper tells me I can enter and these two uniforms are here so there won’t be a problem. Will there? Now open the damn door or it will be you I arrest for obstruction.”

Immediately, a buzz resonated in the small entrance. Waters swung open the door
, only to halt before the elevators. “Damn!” he muttered under his breath. The elevator had an out-of-order sign plastered on its door. It meant walking up seven flights.

Brophy smirked. He pointed to the other side of the room.
“There’s another set of elevators down the corridor.”

Waters frowned.
“I knew that.”

Brophy said nothing. His partner’s impatience stemmed from a family dinner party he was missing.
He had promised Tanya he would be there. But like so many promises cops make, duty got in the way.

A moment later, Brophy exited the elevator into a narrow hallway and pointed the way down to 739. He had learned a long time ago never to dismiss a seemingly innocent scene. He took note of his surroundings before he knocked.

The hope of picking up Mr. Quinn quickly and without incident dwindled as Brophy knocked for a third time. Before he could knock again, the door opened slightly.

Brophy held up his badge.
“Zachary Quinn? Boston police.”

He didn’t wait for an answer. He pushed his way into the room. The place was filled with secondhand furniture. The cluttered room cried for a good cleaning
: beer bottles littered the coffee table, while trash from fast food blanketed the floor. An old couch sat in the middle of the room over an old worn rug. Nothing unusual for a boys’ college dorm. Brophy expected it was much like any other boy’s room.

It wasn’t his sourc
e of irritation. It was the kid standing in front of them. He wasn’t Zachary Quinn.

This boy had a head of red hair, five
nine, five ten tops, athletic build. Brophy quickly determined it was probably his roommate. The boy didn’t look good. Reddened eyes, white face. He looked sick—or more likely, hung over.

“
Can I help you? Zach’s not here,” the kid managed, grimacing as if he was in pain. “Look guys, I’m not feeling very well here. What do you want? Is he in some kind of trouble?”

“
Do you think he should be?” Brophy countered. Waters walked around, checking out the place. “Do you know where he is?”

“
Yeah, over at Allison’s, I think. I’m not sure. It’s some girl’s place, would be my bet. What do you want with him?” he asked again.

Brophy watched the kid clutch his stomach, probably in an attempt to stop his stomach from churning. Then he saw the kid’s legs buckle
and he eased over to the edge of the couch.

Brophy ignored the question.
“You would be?”

“
Randy Harrison,” he answered bluntly, not offering anymore information. The tone of the detectives finally registered with the kid that it was serious.

“
Do you know where he was last night?” Waters took his turn at questioning.

“
Yeah. We were together. At least until we got over to his sister’s.”

Brophy and Waters exchanged looks.
“Where’s that?”

“
Off Beacon Street. Why?”

“
Why were you over there?”

Randy sat, confusion written all over his face
, staring at the two detectives. “Food. And she always gives us money. Before you ask, she’s a nurse at Beth Israel. We usually go hang there while she does our laundry.”

“
Where did you go when you went out last night?” Brophy pressed.

Randy shook his head.
“Nowhere. All I remember is we had a drink before we were supposed to head out. The next thing I remember is waking up in Cam’s apartment, sick as a dog. Zach dropped me back off here. I think he said he was going home to Hull. Didn’t want to catch what I had. Knowing Zach, though, he came back in for a Saturday night.”

Brophy motioned to
Randy. “Get your jacket, son. You’re going back to the station with us.”

“
What?” Randy said, surprised. “I’m sick. I don’t know what you think Zach did. It couldn’t be that bad.”

Brophy didn’t answer him. Instead, he said in a firm voice
, “Get your jacket or not. It doesn’t matter to me, but you are coming with us, now.”

* * * *

Cameron awoke. It was dark. She looked over at her nightstand. Eleven o’clock. By the time she finished with the cleaning, cooking, and washing clothes, it had been after three in the afternoon. She hadn’t had such a bad day in a long time.

She tossed and turned from one rambling
, troubling thought to another. She yearned for her mother. It had been so long since someone made everything better for her. For once, she wished someone would look after her; then she reprimanded herself. She never allowed herself self-pity, couldn’t afford it. She had to concentrate on the good things in her life, which seemed to be fewer and fewer.

Meghan’s words kept echoing
: “Remember, remember how you felt.”

Oh, Meghan, I could never forget.
Never! How could she ever forget the moment she walked into the empty apartment. Her heart sank. An overwhelming sense of confusion encompassed her. The whole apartment had been wiped out. She lost everything—her furniture, her clothes, Matthew…

She remember
ed feeling exhausted after working a double at the hospital. Her first thought had been she had been robbed. She had tried calling Matthew, who was mysteriously unavailable. So, she called the police.

Her heart wrenched when she discovered the truth. She had never felt so humiliated. The embarrassment to have to confront the reality it had been Matthew himself.

“Ma’am, do you think it may have been your boyfriend?” the police officer asked.

She vehemently shook her head.
“No, no. It couldn’t be. He’s my fiancé. We are supposed to get married in four months. Most everything that was here was mine. I don’t understand.”

Reality slapped her in the face when the police officers returned. The words uttered shattered her dreams.

“Ma’am, did you honestly not know you were having problems? According to Dr. Matthew Halliday, he broke up with you last week. Said you were in denial. He said he only took what was his. My advice, ma’am—contact an attorney.”

“
Matthew? Matthew did this? It doesn’t make any sense. There has to be a mistake. We’re getting married.”

Cameron caught the look the two police officers exchanged, a pathetic glare. She didn’t have money for an attorney, but a lawyer did contact her. Shortly after the police left, Oliver Stanton, the Halliday’s family attorney, severed all ties between her and Matthew.

Matthew didn’t even have the courage to face her himself. He used his lawyer to communicate with her, sending Stanton over to their apartment not long after he deserted her. Returning home from work, she found a letter under her door from the lawyer. He offered her a deal—her furniture back if she agreed never to contact Matthew again. She had ripped the letter to shreds. She had not talked with Matthew again until six months ago when he started his surgical residency at Beth Israel.

Three years! Oh my God, three years since he dumped her cold…and here she was three years later in her flannels, sleeping away her Saturday night. Stood up.

Her knight in shining armor had texted to say he had to postpone their date; a case had come up. He didn’t even have the decency to call. No, once more she had been slapped in the face. Impersonal text…a brush-off.

What had she expected? For Darren to have felt the earth move like she did? Thankful
ly, she received the text while in her bedroom picking out an outfit for the night. Zach was sleeping on the couch again. He had felt sick. Said he was coming down with the same thing Randy had. She didn’t want him to see her upset.

She hated that Darren standing her up hurt. It shouldn’t have. She had known better, but she couldn’t get him out of her thoughts. The way he held her, kissed her…touched her.
My God! Something is wrong with me!

She squeezed her eyes closed and cried. How stupid could she have been! She turned over. Thoughts ran th
rough her head…she wanted to think of anything except Darren.

She had so much to do if she was going to move out. It would keep her mind off her love life
—or lack thereof. She had to call her real estate agent to make the offer on the condo.

She wished her father had come to see it beforehand, but if she didn’t make the offer
, she would lose out. First thing in the morning, she had to call.

A home to herself
. She had worked hard for it: three years of overtime, striving to be financially independent. She would be eternally grateful to Karl and Greg, but it was time. She needed her space.

She had known Karl since he had moved into her neighborhood during elementary school. They were in most of the same classes in school. Many a time, Cameron helped Karl on a test, let him copy her homework…that was
, until he took the SAT and wiped her score in the ground with his.

“
You’re not as helpless as you claim to be, Karl Neslund. You’re just lazy,” Cameron stated plainly the next time he wanted her to do his schoolwork.

Greg Mobley
, on the other hand, Cameron hadn’t seen since freshmen year of high school until she had run into Karl shortly before her break-up with Matthew. She hadn't known him well back then. He had only lived in Hull a couple of years.

After Matthew left her, Karl offered her this solution of the three of them living together. Greg attended Massachusetts College of Art and Design, seeking some graduate degree. He had told her, but honestly she hadn’t listened. Karl graduated
from Harvard Law last fall.

From there
, everything fell into place with the three of them, not that Cameron saw much of them—not with the hours she kept, taking care of her father and brother. Karl, she never saw between his work, hers, and his attention to the ladies.

Her stomach growled. She had forgotten she hadn’t eaten. Not that she felt like getting up. It was an effort to even lift her head off her pillow. Her heart felt so heavy, but she wasn’t going to be getting much sleep. She had to get out of bed, walk around, make a bowl of cereal.

Outside her door, she heard voices. Karl must have come in with company. She hoped that Zach didn't wake up and disturb Karl’s rendezvous.

She already had Greg irritated at her. What was she supposed to do when Zach showed back up after seeing their father? Zach looked so sick. All he wanted to do was sleep the night away on the couch. He just wanted to be taken care of by his big sis.

She waited until the voices subsided and faded into Karl’s bedroom before she climbed out of bed. Dressed in her comfy flannel pjs, she inched open the door to an empty room. All seemed quiet.

The open layout of the apartment gave freedom to Cameron
, away from the boys. Her bedroom lay across the living room, which was furnished in a classic style. The hardwood floor was covered by a simple braided rug. A gold plated framed mirror hung over the fireplace. A lone floor lamp sat in the far corner next to the curvature of the walls by the windows.

The kitchen lay open with white cabinets and t-shaped counters. A teakettle sat on top of the gas
stove. She needed a cup of tea.

Quietly, she tiptoed to the kitchen. She filled the kettle with water. She would have to watch it before it whistled. She certainly
didn’t want to wake anyone. Lost in her thoughts, she reached up in the cabinet for a bowl for her cereal.