The Other Daniel - A Camille Grisham Novella (3 page)

“What if I told you that a major publisher
has solicited Daniel Sykes for the rights to his authorized
biography?”

“I’d say that has absolutely nothing to do
with me and I’d keep walking,” she answered in a voice that came
dangerously close to faltering.

“What if I said that it has everything to do
with you?”

Camille suddenly felt the urge to sit. “Then
I guess I’d ask you to explain.”

Jacob cleared his throat as if he were about
to recite a rehearsed speech. “I’m a former employee of the
publishing house behind the book and I personally know the author
who has been hired to write it. It’s going to be published, Ms.
Grisham. And the timetable for getting it to press is very
short.”

“How short?”

“Five, maybe six months at most.”

“And you said this is an authorized
biography of Daniel Sykes, meaning he has an active role in the
project?”

“From what I understand, he has been
corresponding with the author for at least three months. Sykes had
apparently lobbied for in-person interview sessions, but the prison
refused to sign off on it.” He smiled. “I don’t think the author
was too keen on the idea either.”

Camille failed to see the humor. “Explain
what you meant when you said this has everything to do with
me.”

Jacob’s smile went away. “You might want to
sit down.”

“I still haven’t decided whether or not this
conversation is worth my time.”

“Fair enough. The book was originally
designed to be a tell-all of Sykes’ life, from his childhood
through the present. But during the process of creation it was
decided that the focus should be narrowed.”

“Narrowed to what?”

“His capture. Specifically the role that you
and Agent Andrew Sheridan played in that capture.”

Camille’s legs felt wobbly and she could no
longer fight the urge to sit. “What are you talking about?”

“Based on what I’ve heard, Sykes has no
plans to discuss the details of his murders, the reason he
committed those murders, or anything else related to his past. He
only agreed to do the book if you and Agent Sheridan were the
featured topics.”

“How could they allow him to do that?”
Camille asked, as if she hadn’t already known the answer.

“Apparently there was some initial
opposition to the idea, mostly fueled by fear of a libel lawsuit.
But ultimately there was too much money to be made not to go
forward. Same sad story as always.”

Camille had been fully prepared for the
bright atmosphere of the City Perk Café to fade at some point, and
that’s exactly what happened. What she wasn’t prepared for was how
dark it would actually get. “So what’s your interest in this?”

“As I said before, I want you to have the
chance to tell your side of the story. Make no mistake, Ms.
Grisham, this book will not be objective. The goal is to cast you,
Agent Sheridan, and possibly the entire Federal Bureau of
Investigation in the most negative light possible. In my opinion
there has to be some kind of counterbalance to that.”

The mention of Agent Sheridan in the same
sentence as ‘negative light’ almost brought tears to Camille’s
eyes. Her name had been dragged through the mud in almost every way
imaginable. She was used to it and wouldn’t lose a moment’s sleep
if it happened again. But to go after Andrew Sheridan, a man who
was a hero by any measure of the word, a man who was no longer here
to defend himself, was downright criminal. And Camille knew it was
something she absolutely could not let happen. “It will never make
it to print. I’ll make sure of it.”

“I’m afraid that ship is already
sailing.”

The measured confidence in Jacob’s voice
shook her. “He has a wife and nine-year-old daughter for Christ’s
sake. How could someone even think about—”

“I understand that. But what you have to
understand is that you have a lot more to lose in this situation
than anyone else. If this book is released with even half the
garbage that Sykes is trying to put out there, it could seriously
stain your reputation. With everything you have going on – Elliott
Richmond, the questions about your friend’s murder – you can’t
afford to have anyone undermining your credibility. The best option
you have is to go on the offensive; strike down anything that Sykes
says before he even has the chance to say it.”

“And how am I supposed to do that?”

Jacob hesitated, as if his response was one
that he had to pull from the depths of his being. “Write your own
book.”

Camille bit down on her lip to stop herself
from yelling. Of all the ways the sharks had ever attacked her,
Jacob Deaver’s attack was by far the most brutal. In less than five
minutes he managed to tap into every vulnerability that she had –
Daniel Sykes, Andrew Sheridan, her best friend’s murder, and the
person responsible for it – and he used it to pitch a book. Even if
everything he said about Sykes was true, Camille didn’t believe for
one second that he tracked her down out of some altruistic need to
save her reputation. He saw an opportunity to build his own.

“I think your two minutes are up.”

Jacob’s hooded eyes
widened. “Ms. Grisham, please hear me out. I’ve read everything
there is to read about your story. I know you tried to save your
partner. I know you tried to save those two girls that Sykes ended
up killing. But the people behind this book are going to say
something very different. How do you think it’s going to be for the
families of those victims to hear only one version of the
story?
Sykes
’
version of the story? It will be devastating. You have the
opportunity, right now, to stand up for their belief that you did
everything possible to save the people they loved. You have the
opportunity to confirm what you and I both know is the truth. For
your sake, for the sake of those families who are still mourning,
don’t let that opportunity pass.”

In Camille’s mind she was screaming at him,
throwing coffee mugs, pushing over tables, calling him every
obscene name imaginable. When she opened her mouth to actually
speak, she could only manage the faintest of whispers. “Goodbye,
Mr. Deaver.”

As she stood up from the table he gently
grabbed her hand. Aside from the fact that he was a stranger
putting his hands on her, something about his touch made her
recoil.

“I know this has probably been a lot to take
in, and I apologize if you feel ambushed. That was honestly the
last thing I wanted to do. But everything I’m telling you is true,
as is my sincerity in wanting to help you. Perhaps with the benefit
of time you’ll be able to see that. If you do and would like to
talk more about it, I’m staying at the Brown Palace Hotel.” He
reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a piece of paper on
which he had already hand-written a telephone number. “You can call
the front desk and they’ll connect you to my room. I’d be happy to
meet with you whenever, where ever. All I ask is that you consider
it.”

Camille studied the paper a moment longer
than she intended to. The hesitation bothered her. “There’s nothing
to consider,” she replied, hopeful that the sudden doubt in her
heart did not reveal itself in her voice. Then she took a deep
breath, cast one last glance at the French Bistro cheeriness of the
City Perk, and walked away from Jacob Deaver.

When she reached the door, she looked back
at him. The hand that he held the paper in was still extended, as
if he fully expected her to come back for it.

Much to Camille’s horror, she almost
did.

CHAPTER TWO

PROS AND CONS

Desperate to take her mind
off of the unfortunate
encounter with her
would-be biographer, Camille picked up the notebook the moment she
walked into her apartment. It was a seventy-page blue spiral with a
wide-rule designed for third-graders with sloppy penmanship. The
fact that she wasted time dwelling on such trivial details was a
big reason why the notebook had remained blank since she bought it
two weeks ago. Her flagrant indecision was another.

Camille got the notebook after finishing a
lengthy telephone conversation with a man she had every hope of
never speaking to again. Special Agent Peter Crawley was an
instructor at the FBI Academy and one of the brightest minds in the
Behavioral Analysis Unit. He was a mentor and a friend. He was also
one of the reasons why she decided to give up her shield.

Crawley had been the Agent-In-Charge of the
Circle Killer task force. Camille and Andrew Sheridan were the
first two field agents asked to join the effort. When Daniel Sykes
was finally apprehended three years later, the number of agents on
the task force totaled ninety. Yet in the end, Camille, Sheridan,
and Crawley were the only three there when Sykes’ terror spree came
to an end.

Only one of them emerged with their FBI
career still intact.

Agent Sheridan lost his life trying to
capture Daniel Sykes. Camille lost faith in herself, the agency she
had given eight years of her life to, and a world that allowed
monsters like Sykes to even breathe the same air as everyone else.
Agent Crawley lost countless hours of his existence trying to
convince her not to quit.

But his efforts had ultimately been in vain,
just as they had been when he assured the Bureau’s top brass that
the circumstances surrounding Agent Sheridan’s death could not have
been prevented. Crawley knew the truth of what happened in that
basement. He knew that Agent Sheridan should not have died. He knew
that the two coeds whom Sykes had been holding captive for a month
should not have died. But because of his belief in Camille’s value
to the Bureau, he thought it best to omit that knowledge from his
testimony.

The review board ultimately agreed with his
assessment and recommended that she resume active field work
immediately. Crawley recommended that she take a long vacation, pay
a visit or two to the Bureau head-shrinker, and do her best to
leave Daniel Sykes in the past.

Camille chose the third option.

There were plenty of reasons why she knew
she had to quit; chief among them was the inescapable fact that
every day she entered the BAU offices she would have to look
Crawley in the eye, fully aware that he knew the truth. He would
have done his best not to judge or think less of her, and for a
while he probably would have succeeded. But Camille feared that
every reminder of Agent Sheridan’s absence would make her presence
less and less tolerable, until Crawley’s decision to overlook her
failure became his biggest regret. There was no one in the Bureau
she respected more, and the idea of incurring the wrath of his
disappointment was more than her already fragile psyche could have
withstood.

She may not have had Crawley’s blessing when
she tendered her resignation letter, but she still had his
admiration; and that admiration would remain as long as she wasn’t
there to remind him of the agent that he needlessly lost. That
assurance was one of the few things that helped her sleep at
night.

She had barely closed her eyes in the two
weeks since he contacted her.

Despite her recent practice of ignoring
every phone call she received from the dreaded 202 area code,
Camille took Crawley’s phone call right away. True to his
reputation as the most emotionally-barren man on the planet, he
didn’t waste a second of time with personal pleasantries.

There were four dead
girls, he had informed her, all killed with the same pattern of
sado-sexual mutilation and all within four months of each other.
Camille could almost picture the case file in his hand as he broke
down the stats in the infamous monotone that passed for his voice.
When Crawley finally asked what her opinion was, Camille told him
that she didn’t have one. When he pressed, she answered with one
word:
copycat
.

There wasn’t an ounce of hesitation in his
voice when he asked her to come back. No field work, he had assured
her. Just hands-off consulting with the current field agents
assigned to the case. Crawley was right to think that she couldn’t
be trusted in the field. He was wrong to think that she could do
anything to help him. But with four murders that looked
depressingly similar to the ones committed by Daniel Sykes, and a
Bureau full of anxious figureheads, Crawley may have felt that he
didn’t have much choice.

The possibility that someone had decided to
pick up where the Circle Killer left off angered Camille in ways
she couldn’t describe. But she knew there was nothing she could do
about it. Why she hadn’t told Crawley that right away was a
question she couldn’t answer. She wanted to. She needed to. But she
didn’t. Instead, she told him she would need time to consider his
offer.

Crawley not so gently informed her that he
didn’t have the luxury of waiting while she considered his offer.
If the copycat held true to Sykes’ pattern, the next event could
occur within the month, which meant he needed an answer, and he
needed it immediately.

No matter how much Camille dreaded the idea
of another murder, an immediate answer was something she simply
couldn’t commit to. This required due deliberation, she told him;
an adequate weighing of the pros and cons. The Bureau may have
thought it had a lot to gain by bringing Camille back into the
fold, but she had even more to lose.

Crawley eventually relented, but ended the
conversation with yet another reminder of how important her prompt
response was.

Camille bought the
notebook with the hope that a pros and cons list would help
facilitate a quick decision. It didn’t. In fact, she was no closer
to a resolution now than when she started. And the longer that
notebook remained blank, the longer it took to come up with even a
single legitimate item to write on the
con
side of the page, the more
Camille doubted her ability to tell Crawley no.