though it’s diluted a bit over the years.”
“Damned good thing,” Emma sighed. “I would have been fired had another child been treated that way. I would have had to have my say, you know.”
“That red hair,” Cami agreed softly. “But I know what you mean. I had a few rather heated fights myself with several individuals, despite the fact that they were out of school.”
They were silent then, staring at the dancers, occasionally glancing at Anna Corbin and Amelia Sorenson as they seemed deep in conversation.
“Tell me,” Emma’s voice lowered. “Was there ever a connection proven between the grandparents’, parents’, and Clyde Ramsey’s deaths?”
Cami’s head swung around to stare at the other girl in surprise. “Excuse me?”
Emma frowned. “There was no connection?”
“Not as far as the cousins believe. And if they had believed it, we would have heard about it,” Cami answered without answering the underlying question regarding the connection.
“Damn, I was hoping for more county-wide conspiracy and mystery,” Emma sighed ruefully.
Cami gave a light, forced laugh, hoping Emma didn’t catch the fact that she was uncomfortable with the subject.
It took a few moments, but she was able to steer the conversation back to the school, the teachers, and the upcoming socials.
She didn’t want to talk about Rafe, and unless there was more information than simply gossip, then she didn’t want to talk about any other Corbin either.
After a final drink, Cami rose and wished her friend a good night before turning and crossing the street to head home.
As she rounded the first block and the lights became a bit dimmer and the streets much quieter, she could feel a distinct tingle along the back of her shoulders.
Once, long ago, she and Jaymi used to play a game. Jaymi would follow her, or Cami would follow her sister, and the one who caught sight of the other the quickest was the winner.
Even Tye, Jaymi’s husband, had joined in the game while he and Jaymi had dated.
Cami had developed a feeling, a tension at her back that let her know whenever Jaymi was stalking her. She could feel that tingle now, but she knew it wasn’t her sister following her.
Her steps quickened.
Gripping her keys tightly in her fist, the longest key extending between two of her clenched fingers, she watched the shadows suspiciously. She wasn’t panicking yet, but she knew someone was out there. Waiting. Watching.
For a moment, she was drawn back to her childhood.
Jaymi and Tye laughing as Cami had managed to evade them the last day before he shipped off to Iraq.
The Navajo her sister had married had taught her how to move much more quietly than she ever had over those months. She’d gotten good enough to evade Jaymi, but not Tye himself.
But Tye hadn’t come back. Six weeks before he was due to ship out, he’d been caught in an explosion and killed instantly.
She hadn’t just lost her own best friend that day, but she had also lost her sister. A vital part of Jaymi had died the day the Army officer and chaplain had arrived to tell her the news.
As the memory dissipated, she realized she was doing as Tye had taught her, weaving in and out of the shadows, never taking a straight path, using the trees as cover.
She never walked beneath the street lights, and didn’t hesitate to walk on someone’s lawn rather than venturing too closely to the pooled light beneath the tall posts.
It wasn’t long before the sensation eased, though that feeling of tension that still gathered inside her assured her someone was still out there.
She entered the house by the back door, stepped in, and locked the door back quickly.
She didn’t turn the lights on.
She didn’t turn on the television.
Slipping up to her bedroom, she spent most of the night staring at the locked bedroom door and wondering who the hell was following her.
CHAPTER 13
The next morning Cami awoke as the sun poured into the skylight over her bed, still dressed in the jeans and sweater and sneakers she’d put on after returning home the night before.
The boots would have been impractical if she’d had to slip out her bedroom window and make her way along the roof to where she could drop to the ground more safely.
The knowledge, or the feeling, someone had been following her had spooked her. She was on edge, restless, and that Saturday morning she was just plain pissed.
That was not Marshal Roberts playing with her head, no matter what Rafer believed.
As she poured another cup of the fragrant brew, the sound of the cell ringing had her quickly reaching for it and checking the caller ID. She prayed it was Rafer.
She’d actually swallowed her pride and called him the night before, but it had gone instantly to voicemail, an indication the phone was either turned off, or in a dead zone.
A frown pulled at her as she activated the call and brought the phone to her ear.
“Good afternoon, Jack?” she greeted him, a question in her voice.
“Hey, Cami, I’m pulling onto your street,” Jack Townsend answered back. “Do you have a few minutes to talk? I have something I want to tell you.”
“Sure. I’ll be waiting at the door.”
Disconnecting, she moved through the house to the door and opened it as Jack’s tow truck pulled into the driveway. She couldn’t imagine why he was at her house that early, or what he could want. She hadn’t taken her car in since he’d returned it after the blizzard, more than a month ago. Well, actually, she thought, closer to two months.
He wasn’t alone, though; his wife, Jeannie, was with him. The petite blond lifted her hand in a wave as she practically jumped from the truck and joined her husband as he came around the front, glaring at her.
“I keep telling her I’ll help her out,” he groused as they reach the front porch. “But Short Stuff insists on jumping. One of these days she’s going to break a leg.”
Jeannie punched him in the shoulder lightly with her fist as she laughed back at him. The love between them was apparent, though. It was actually so apparent that the gossipmongers loved attempting to cast suspicion on it.
“Come on in,” Cami invited, still confused at the visit. “There’s fresh coffee and store bought cinnamon rolls.”
Cami led the way into the kitchen after closing and locking the door securely behind them.
She admitted she had become paranoid in the past weeks. The phone calls might have stopped, but that feeling of being watched had her wary. Perhaps her caller had grown tired of calling and decided to act.
She couldn’t tell if the caller knew about the last night Rafe had been at the house or not. The suspense was making her as nervous as hell, though.
“I thought it best to stop in and talk to you, versus the phone,” Jack stated as she poured the coffee and set cups in front of both Jack and his wife at the kitchen table. “Some conversations you simply don’t trust to normal channels of communication.”
