When a Heart Stops (27 page)

SUNDAY, 2:58 P.M.

I NEED UR HELP. I NEED U 2 COME GET ME.

A text from Camille. The girl's phone had been silent for so long, Serena was almost shocked to see her message pop up on the screen. Serena took another bite of her late lunch—a ham and cheese sandwich on whole wheat.

WHAT'S WRONG? She texted back.

I JUST NEED HELP. HAD A FIGHT WITH MY DAD. WILL U COME GET ME?

Serena looked at Paul. “I've got to go.”

“What's wrong?”

“Camille needs me. She's texting me, asking me to come get her.”

He frowned. “You think that's wise? Is she with her father?”

“I don't know.” Serena texted, WHERE ARE U?

A pause. Then, I HAD TO DO IT.

Serena's blood chilled and her stomach twisted. Had Camille gone ahead with the abortion?

DO WHAT? Anxiety swirled. TELL ME WHERE U ARE.

AT MY DAD'S.

IS HE THERE?

NO. HE LEFT. PLEASE JUST COME GET ME AND TAKE ME TO COVENANT HOUSE. I'LL STAY THERE, I PROMISE.

Paul frowned. “You said her dad was a violent man. Maybe you shouldn't go.”

Serena rubbed her forehead as she thought, reasoned it out. “She says her father's not there.”

PLS COME GET ME BEFORE HE GETS BACK!

“I probably shouldn't, but I have to. She needs me.” Serena texted. START WALKING. I'LL MEET YOU.

A long pause then, I CAN'T. HE WARNED ME I'D BETTER BE HERE WHEN HE GOT BACK. IF I LEAVE AND HE'S ON HIS WAY BACK, HE'LL SEE ME. PLS SERENA! I'M SCARED.

Serena's heart thudded. She should just call the cops and send them out there, but what if her father was there and the cops showed up? He'd take his wrath out on Camille.

She couldn't do that to the girl.

Paul nodded. “I'd go with you, but I have a date with a possible kitten owner.” He paused. “But this is more important. I'll go with you.”

She smiled at her co-worker. “You're a good man, Paul.”

A flush crept up his neck and he snorted. “I don't know about that. A sucker for cute kittens, yeah, but . . .” He shrugged.

“But you can't go with me. I can't drag you into this. If her father comes back . . . no, I'll call Dominic.”

She grabbed her purse and texted, I'M COMING.

Then stopped. “I don't have a car.”

He tossed her his keys. “Here. Take mine. I'll get Dorie to bring me by your house to get it later.” He looked at the schedule posted on the wall. “She'll be here in a couple of hours.”

“You're sure?” She clutched the keys in one hand, her phone in the other.

“Go. The possible kitten owner is meeting me here.”

“At the dumpster?”

Paul grimaced and nodded.

“Great. Thanks, Paul.”

“Sure.”

Serena punched in Dominic's speed dial number as she headed out of the hospital toward Paul's car. Dominic would be horribly upset with her for leaving the safety of the hospital, but Camille needed her and she'd promised the girl she'd be there for her.

She had no choice. She had to go.

Dominic's phone went to voice mail. “Hey, I got a text from Camille. She's at her father's house. 114 Bolton Drive. I'm headed over there to pick her up. Her father has a violent temper and I wanted you to go with me. But she said he wasn't there, so I'm just going to pop over real fast and get her before he gets back. Maybe you can meet me there. Call me.”

She hung up and climbed into Paul's Jeep Cherokee. Then thought about what she was doing. She called Colton and got his voice mail. He and Dominic were probably together working on something and couldn't be interrupted.

Her fingers hovered over the 911 button she'd programmed. But if Camille's father came back and saw the police there, Camille would suffer for it.

What do I do? What do I do?

The screen blinked. R U COMING? PLS SERENA, I'M SCARED.

Serena set her jaw and sent up a prayer.

YES. ON THE WAY.

Dominic looked up to see Hunter followed by two federal agents escort a man in his fifties toward his office.

His father.

Not that the man deserved the title, but nevertheless, that's the one he had. He gave a nod toward the conference room. “More privacy.”

Hunter nodded and escorted them down the hall. Dominic rose and followed. He stopped in the door and stared. His heart thudded,
then slowed. David Allen didn't look like the man Dominic remembered from childhood. He was withered and stooped, looking twenty years older than he was.

The consequences of too much alcohol, drugs, and prison. He supposed that would do it to a person.

Dominic waited for the emotions to hit him like they had a little over two months ago when he'd tracked his father down to find him in prison. Hate, love, anger, resentment, bitterness. He'd run the whole range. Today, he simply felt . . . pity.

A broken shell of a man stood before him.

A broken shell that needed a shower and a shave.

He looked at Hunter.

Hunter nodded. “I've got to go. Let me know if you need anything else.”

Dominic rubbed a hand down his face. “I've got it from here. Appreciate it.”

Hunter left and Dominic turned to his fellow agents. “He cooperate?”

The one who appeared to be the elder partner shook Dominic's hand. “Sure thing. He didn't give us any trouble. Said he was hungry and would we mind feeding him. We got him a double cheeseburger and shake on the way over.”

Kindhearted agents.

Once again Dominic nodded his thanks and the agents left.

Dominic looked at his father who stood before him, head still bowed, shoulders stooped.

And all of his dreams of confronting the man with accusations and recriminations flew out the window. “Have a seat.”

The man sat, his eyes still on the floor.

“Do you know why you're here?”
Do you know who I am?
That was the question he wanted to ask.

“No.” The quiet word came out on a grunt.

Dominic rubbed his eyes. “I need to ask you a few questions.”

“'Bout what?”

His phone buzzed, but he didn't take his eyes off the pathetic figure in front of him. “About some things that have been happening around here. I know you were found at a homeless shelter in Rock Hill, South Carolina. How long were you there?”

“I don't know.”

The man rocked back and looked up at Dominic. “Where am I?”

Dominic frowned. “I'm an FBI agent and you're wanted in the possible kidnapping of your daughter, Alexia Allen.”

A befuddled look crossed the man's face. “What?”

“Dad . . .”

“Dad? Why are you calling me Dad? Who are you? Who's Alexia?”

Serena pulled into the driveway of the rundown house. From Camille's description, Serena knew it was a two-bedroom, one-bath house. Camille was an only child. Her mother had died when Camille was nine, leaving behind a devastated husband and a grieving child.

The husband turned violent, taking his grief out on the little girl who learned to walk on eggshells and stay out of his way. Camille said as long as she stayed in her room, her father seemed to forget she was in the house.

Serena wondered if she felt so connected to Camille because the girl reminded her so much of Alexia and her childhood.

Whatever the reason, she was here. Since Dominic wasn't answering his phone, she finally just texted him to let him know where she was and then texted Camille to tell her to come on out. And to make sure her father wasn't back yet.

His beat-up red truck wasn't in the driveway. A good sign.

But her nerves stretched tight as she thought about the man coming home and finding Serena spiriting his daughter off to Covenant House.

He'd have a fit. A violent, life-endangering fit.

Her phone buzzed. Colton. “Hello?”

“I got your message. Please tell me you didn't go out there by yourself. Dominic will have a conniption.”

“Um . . . okay, I won't tell you that.”

“Stay there. I'm on the way.”

“Where's Dominic?”

“He's tied up with his father. Stay put. You hear?”

“I hear.”

She hung up, feeling better about her safety since Colton was on the way. It wouldn't take him long to get here. She texted Camille again to come get in the car.

When Camille didn't appear in the door or text her back right away, a slow dread started to build in the pit of Serena's stomach. She tapped the steering wheel and waited. Finally, she got out of the car and knocked on the door.

And waited.

Nothing.

The dread turned to fear. Fear for Camille. Was Serena too late? Should she have called the cops?

She dialed 911 and held her finger over the Send button.

With her other hand, she tried the doorknob. It twisted in a smooth move. Her internal alarm bells clamored for her attention. She ignored them and stepped inside the house. Knowing Colton was only a few minutes away made her feel better.

Shutting the door behind her, she took a tentative step forward into the living area of the house. “Camille?” She called softly. It didn't seem right to raise her voice. Odors from the kitchen directly in front of her saturated the air, stimulating her gag reflex. Covenant House wasn't a better option than this?

As she walked into the den, she spied a small hallway to her left. The bedrooms.

“Camille? Are you here?”

A noise sounded. A scuffling sound, a shuffle or a scraping shoe. “Camille?”

Worried the girl might be hurt or in trouble, that her father had finally snapped and done something awful, Serena threw caution to the wind and hurried down the hallway. The first room on her right held a twin bed, a Justin Bieber poster, and a scattering of clothing across the floor.

Her stomach in knots, but unable to leave without making sure Camille was all right, Serena gathered her meager courage and pressed forward. She wished she had her father's Glock, but she didn't have a concealed weapons permit.

Maybe she should have gotten one.

Dominic glanced at his watch. 3:30. He'd promised to pick Serena up at 5:00. After the doctor finished with his father, he'd walk down to the morgue and check in with her. Concerned about the confusion his father had exhibited at the office, Dominic realized the man was either having some kind of psychotic break or he was ill. He'd managed to talk him into seeing a doctor, got him in the car and to the hospital without incident.

Dr. Eileen Travis exited the room, her brow furrowed. Dominic pounced. “What's wrong with him?”

“Without further testing, it's hard to say, but I would hazard a guess that he's in the early stages of Alzheimer's.”

The word struck a blow to Dominic's heart. As much as he'd hated the man growing up, knowing the kind of death he was going to face gave him no satisfaction.

“I see.”

“We've given him some medication to calm him down, but he really needs a full workup of tests. If it is Alzheimer's, we need to get him on the right regimen of medication.”