"All right." However, instead of checking for the intruder, Cameron did a quick check of the body.
Faith got the 911 operator and said, "I'm Faith O'Malley and I'm at Back Country Tours where I found a dead man behind the receptionist's desk."
The operator asked a million questions, or at least it seemed like it, before Faith finally ended the conversation to see what Cameron had discovered about the victim. "Do you see any evidence of a crime?"
He pointed to the man's shirt. "Speck of blood on the front of his dress shirt. I don't see any evidence of any kind of trauma, blow to the head, strangulation, nothing. Looks like he might have been injected with something. No way to confirm my suspicions without stripping him down and looking for a needle mark, and then identifying something foreign in the body. Stay here, or go outside and wait for the police. I'll be right back."
Cameron strode off down the hallway.
"Wait! Don't you think that's a little dangerous?"
"That's why you're to wait here or outside for the police." He didn't say another word, but headed down the hall.
A cold breeze from the open doorway thoroughly chilled her, and she rubbed her arms, then leaned over the body again and opened the buttons on the man's shirt. Peeling the shirt away just a little, she examined his chest. Cameron was right. He'd been poked with a needle and the area had bled slightly before the man died. But what was really bizarre was a drip of shiny silver glistening at the point of entry.
A couple of sirens wailed down the road, and she quickly rebuttoned the man's shirt, then wiped the buttons clean with a tissue.
Before the police arrived, Cameron hurried back into the office, took hold of her arm as if he were her knight to the rescue, and led Faith out of the building. But even outside, he didn't loosen his grip on her. She could envision him as a former police officer rescuing women in distress and taking great pride in his work. "Did you see any sign of anyone?" she asked.
He looked a little blank.
"When you went into the back offices. Did you see anyone?"
"No. A door was wide open at the back of the building. He or she probably got out that way."
Instantly, Faith was suspicious. Not just of the person who had been in the building looking for something, who probably killed the old man, but of Cameron. Because she could swear he was holding out on her.
As soon as the police arrived, Faith and Cameron showed their credentials to the officers. She thought they acted oddly. She wasn't sure why. Maybe because they didn't seem too surprised. Or because they didn't appear very much concerned that Faith and Cameron might be the murderers. Which may have been because the police were dealing with a serial killer and they knew Faith and Cameron couldn't have been involved because they were out-of-towners and both worked or, in Cameron's case, had worked, with the police. Or maybe it was because the men were jaded—just another dead guy case.
The one had brownish butch hair, his light brown eyes glued to her, as if he was interested in more than her story in regard to her finding a dead body. As if he recognized her, or was intrigued with her, but not as a suspect or witness. Officer Mick Whitson. She couldn't figure out the mixed messages. The other, Bert Adams, moved around the room, his gaze darting about, taking everything in. Several times he sniffed the air. His hair was darker, his eyes hazel, and he had a heavier build. He was the one who asked the questions, as if he was in charge, while Whitson watched Faith's reactions. Not Cameron's, just Faith's.
Officer Adams finished his preliminary cursory examination of the room, then faced Cameron. "And why were you here?"
"Looking for friends of mine, fellow private investigators in a partnership, who haven't returned from a hunt."
"With Back Country Tours?"
"Yes. They made the arrangements with the staff here and are a week overdue back in Seattle. No word, except for a garbled call to our partner in Seattle, which isn't like them."
She was impressed. If she worked for an outfit like that, she'd never expect one of her partners would come looking for her. Just a few calls made, and wait it out a while longer to see if she was just delayed.
Neither of the officers commented concerning Cameron's story, though, which bothered her. She'd hoped they'd reassure him that his friends were okay. She truly thought they'd say something about a recent snowstorm that might have delayed them, or how bad communications were out in the wilderness, but they said nothing, both just seemed to stiffen a little.
Officer Adams shifted his attention to Faith. "And your business here?" Curt, abrupt, businesslike.
She hesitated. Everyone watched her, anticipating her answer. She was sure she'd alerted them something about her story wouldn't quite be on the up and up.
Well, she could say the same about Cameron. The part about looking for his friends was probably true, but he wasn't just checking for the killer in the building either when he went to investigate. And she felt something wasn't quite right about the two cops either.
"Can I see your ID again?" she asked the men.
From their non-reaction, she figured she'd stunned them. Although Cameron managed a small smile.
The officers exchanged glances, and then the one in charge, Officer Adams, pulled out his ID. After she looked at it, at him, and at the ID again, she nodded and handed it back. His face stern, he never broke a smile. But the other one, now he did. The smile showed dark amusement. He handed his ID over, made a point to touch her hand, and when she returned his ID, he managed to sweep his hand over hers, lingering a little longer, a little more invasive, as a prelude to something more.
Cameron looked miffed, even stepped closer to her, and glowered at Whitson as if to remind him to act professional and stay away from Faith.
Not needing the rescue, she tilted her chin up, gave Whitson a look like this was strictly business to her, when Officer Adams reminded her he was waiting for an answer.
"I'm searching for a tour guide who took my father on a hunt last year," she told the officer. "I wanted to take the same trip he'd taken. The guide worked for Back Country Tours." She spoke matter-of-factly, as if she told the whole truth and nothing but the truth, so help her God.
She thought about mentioning her father's research paper, that her former boyfriend had stolen it, and was in these parts close by, but she knew the police wouldn't be interested in any of it. But if they were, they'd ask what the paper was about, and she wouldn't be able to explain. How crazy would that sound? It was better not to bring it up.
More than that, and for whatever reason, she didn't want Cameron to know she had a boyfriend. Well, he was an ex, but she hadn't officially told Hilson that. Although she was pretty sure Hilson knew already. And had planned it that way. Unless he was dumb enough to think she couldn't figure out who stole her father's flash drive and hard drive and then intended to come back to her. She couldn't forgive him though.
Cameron's brows raised just a hint. And she was certain he didn't believe her.
The officers again exchanged glances and Officer Adams said under his breath to Whitson, "Kenneth O'Malley's daughter."
"You met my dad?" she asked, unable to contain her surprise.
"No," Adams quickly said. "It's a small town. He was asking a lot of questions, which caught the police department's attention. We discovered he was doing some kind of sociology study and that was the end of it."
But they seemed to have recognized she was related to her father even before she mentioned her name. Or maybe she was just making more of their reactions and wasn't correct in her assumptions. So much for keeping her father's business here secret. At least they probably didn't think she'd totally lied. She did want to see where he'd gone on his trip here.