His mother, an American, had met his father on one of her trips to England. She was a journalist and travelling the world was just a part of her, but after the birth of Harold, their marriage didn't survive. He wanted her to quit and be a stay at home mom but she knew that she could juggle her career and still manage to look after Harold just fine.
This argument was the beginning of the end for their marriage and just like that, Harold found himself in a crossroads, having to make difficult choices. He did enjoy having two birthday parties and more presents at Christmas, but perhaps what really drove him to the war was the cold atmosphere that he had called home all his life.
His story was the extreme opposite when it came to Camilla’s own. She was the youngest of three children. Her two older brothers were in finance and real estate like their parents.
She was the only one in the family who ever took an interest in medicine and when she graduated with a degree in neurology, she was keen bent on beginning her own practice. There was always something about self-reliance that tickled her fancy. However, all this changed in the second year of her residency when she made a fatal mistake with a patient.
A misdiagnosis led to one of her patients dying and she never forgave herself. Despite her family’s unending support, she decided to walk out of neurology and work in pathology. Everyone was not only shocked with her decision but also disappointed. Though she was cleared to go back to work after the investigation, she still felt that she had to walk out of the healing business.
“You cannot kill what is already dead,” Camilla said any time when anyone asked her why she would not consider going back to the OR.
***
Camilla’s life in the 19th Precinct was what many may call ordinary. She would be called in to a crime scene, do her thing, go back to the lab, do more tests and then go home. On special days, some of the detectives and beat cops would go for a drink at the local ‘watering hole’.
Her life lightened up a little when she first noticed detective Harold Jameson in the precinct. She was not sure what it was, maybe his body or that sexy British accent. Either way, she wanted to rip his clothes off every time she saw him.
The fact that he wore the best cologne she had ever smelled on a man made the situation a bit more difficult for her. She like everyone else in the precinct knew that he had noticed her as well but was either too proud to admit it or simply too stupid.
“Hi, Pam. Jameson around?” she asked later on that evening. “I wanted to drop off this report,” she added showing her the file she had in her hands. Pam smiled.
“Of course you did,” Pam said under her breath. “No, Camilla. He already retired for the day,” she added looking at her wrist watch. “You know, we are not fooled by whatever charade the two of you are trying out,” she added. Camilla smiled and walked towards her desk. She placed the file on her desk and leaned forward.
“I don’t know what his deal is, Pam. I gave him chances but he did nothing so, I moved the fuck on,” Camilla said sternly. “That is what I wanted to tell him,” she added before turning around.
“Wait? Who’s the new catch?” Pam asked. Camilla smiled to herself as she walked out. Typical Pam. Of course, she was not about to tell her anything lest she heared a different version of the story by the morning.
The end of the next day was one she waited for with utter longing. Though she was not very outgoing, she was excited. This would be the first time she would be going out in a very long time, months actually.
She had finally decided to give up on the British heart throb. He had made it clear that he was just a tease. Just another man out to play with her heart and her life. And it was clear that she was not getting any younger. She was not about to make another mistake with men. She was too bright for this dumb shit.
***
When she got to the restaurant Sloane had suggested, she immediately noticed his handsome features. He was not in the bullet proof jacket that he always wore any time she saw him. There was no gun in his hands. There was no helmet… there was no black suit that screamed FBI. It was just plain Sloane.
Dinner was in a word, amazing, that is until a call from Jameson came. At first, she felt inclined to ignore the call but on the fifth ring, she could tell that even Sloane was getting agitated.
“I’m so sorry,” she said as she picked up the phone. Sloane nodded and smiled at her. He understood, at least she thought he did. “Van Hauser,” she said avoiding looking at Sloane.
“Dr. Van Hauser. Detective Harold Jameson.” She took a long deep breath.
“What can I do for you detective?” she asked.
“I need you to come to the precinct right away,” Detective Jameson said. Camilla looked at him in surprise.
“Now? It is late,” she said in a whisper.
“I know Dr. Van Hauser, but duty calls,” Harold said before hanging up. Camilla gave Sloane a disappointed look.
“It’s okay,” he said looking at her. “You should know how many times that has happened to me,” he said smiling.
***
Detective Jameson looked at Camilla as she walked into his office. He could tell that she was a little pissed off being called in like this especially this late at night.
“Dr. Van Hauser. Good to see you as always,” he said as she took a seat.
“Detective Jameson,” she said without a smile.
“I see you brought me the report,” he said looking at the file in her hands. She took a deep breath and put the file on his desk.
“This is the same report I faxed you yesterday and I as I always do, faxed you another copy this morning because your careless secretary always manages to lose the first one,” she said. He sensed anger in her voice.
“Is it really?” Harry said. She smiled and leaned back in her seat.
“Case of Veronika Petrovic, twenty two year old Russian national, here on a student visa. Time of death, Wednesday ten PM. Cause of death severed carotid probably caused by a double edged blade, pocket knife maybe.” She crossed her arms over her chest and eyeballed him. As she recited the case she knew ever so well, Harry had been going through the report and was surprised that she had actually recited the entire report. He looked up at her and smiled. He was impressed.
“I see you know your stuff,” he said with a smile.
“I am sure you are surprised. After all, I have only been an ME a mere twelve years,” she said cynically. He let out a laugh and placed the file back on the table.
“Why am I here, Jameson?” she asked. He looked at her and for a minute, he was a bit tongue tied as he looked at her looking lovely as usual. From what she wore he could tell that he had probably interrupted her evening plans. She was in a green fitting sleeveless pencil dress and a pair of black soled lime green heels. Her hair, which she had always worn in a bun while on the job, was worn down.
“Did I pull you from a previous engagement?” he asked looking at her long freshly shaven legs. She smiled and ran her fingers through her hair.
“I don’t think that matters anymore, Jameson, or does it?” she paused and waited to hear his answer.
“May I ask who it was?” Harry asked with a smile.
“Why do you want to know so badly?” Camilla said, still holding her gaze.
“I saw you with that FBI dude the other guy. I could never really get his name. Flynn? Blaine?”
She shook her head irritated. “Sloane.”
“Sloane. That’s the name,” he said snapping his fingers. She uncrossed her arms and stood up.
“Detective Jameson, if there’s nothing else, I’ll take my leave,” she said standing up.
“I don’t think you need to go just yet,” he said standing up. She turned around angrily and looked at him again.
“Why, Jameson. What do you want? What the fuck do you fucking want?” she asked angrily. He said a silent prayer thanking God no one was in the office. “Cat got your tongue Jameson?” He looked at her still quiet. He wanted to say so much but he couldn't. For some reason, this one woman always seemed to have this effect on him.