Chapter 101

~CAMI~

Rain slicked streets glistened under the dim glow of streetlights as I pulled up in front of my house. The engine of my pickup idled, a low growl that matched the storm in my chest. Brian’s words from earlier haunted me: “You deserve the truth. All of it.” I shook my head, trying to push them away, but the echo clung, insistent and unrelenting, like a shadow refusing to leave.

I forced myself to focus, to think of the case. I didn’t want to dwell on Brian. I wanted to be what my father had believed me to be, a woman of principle, of justice, not the killer I had become. Each raindrop tapping against the windshield seemed to drum the message deeper into my mind: the past was always with me. Our profiler was beginning to sketch traits of the killer, but nothing concrete had emerged yet. Whoever this was, he was smart, too smart, anticipating every move, using knowledge of the unit against us. A ghost. A shadow. A predator leaving carnage in his wake, as invisible as he was ruthless.

And that shadow brought me back; to my father. To a loss that had never healed. To a question that had no answer. To rage and helplessness I still carried twelve years later. The memory rose up, vivid, cruel, as though no time had passed.

**The Past**

*“Come on, Dad. Please? This is the only store near home that carries the ice-cream bars I like.”*

*Dad glanced at me, shook his head with a mix of amusement and affection. Then he flicked on the blinker, turning into the parking lot. He handed me some cash, a warm smile stretching across his face. “You know Mom’s gonna have a fit because I’m spoiling your supper, right?”*

*I laughed, the sound bright and untroubled. “Tonight’s taco Tuesday, Dad. No worries.”*

*Leaning in, I pressed my head against his chest. “Love you, Dad.”*

*His arms circled me, firm and protective, a shield against the world. “Love you too, Punkin’.”*

*I climbed out of the car, candy aisle first, then rifled through the freezer section. Patience had never been my strong suit, and I searched until I found exactly what I wanted. Then Dad’s strained voice pierced the evening air:*

*“Andrea, go back inside the store.”*

*Confusion twisted into dread. My eyes caught the man behind him. Dad’s gaze locked with mine; fear, pleading, everything I could never have prepared for. My stomach coiled, a primal warning screaming through me.*

*The shot tore through the air, shattering everything. Dad jerked violently, the sound of impact reverberating through my chest as he crumpled onto the asphalt. Time fractured. Silence roared in my ears, a deafening, pulsing void.*

*The man turned, aimed at me, mouthed “Click”, then vanished into the shadows, disappearing like a phantom.*

*The world erupted into chaos; screams, the wail of sirens, the scrape of shoes on asphalt, the slap of rain against my skin. My ice cream and candy tumbled to the ground, forgotten. Shaking, I crawled toward him, my hands trembling as I grasped his cold, lifeless ones. I pressed my forehead to his chest, desperate for warmth, for any sign that he was still there, that this was a nightmare I could wake from.*

*The echoes of sirens and my own helpless cries melded into a soundscape of grief I couldn’t escape. My body went rigid. My chest tightened. Four days later, I stood dry-eyed at his grave. Numb. Angry. Helpless. Too young to bear such loss. Too young to know that life would never feel safe again.*

Back in the present, I lingered in my pickup, gripping the steering wheel as though it could anchor me. The past was sharp, a knife-edge, but it gave me clarity. This killer, the ghost we were chasing, was no different than the one who had taken my father. His cleverness, his cruelty, his control over life and death; it was a mirror I could not ignore. And that mirror reflected what I had become: determined, vigilant, unwilling to let another shadow claim a life under my watch.

I climbed out of the pickup, the storm wrapping around me, each step toward my house grounding me. Andre’s death, the deception, Brian’s secrets, they wouldn’t define me. But they reminded me why I fought. Why I couldn’t let the ghosts of the past claim another life.

I paused at the door, raindrops tracing rivulets down my face, mixing with sweat and residual adrenaline. The warmth of home should have comforted me, but it felt almost foreign, like stepping into a world that didn’t belong to someone carrying this much grief. Mr. Whiskey padded past, brushing against my leg, a reminder that life still went on. Even in the smallest things, I could feel the world demanding I move forward.

The storm outside had cleared, leaving the streets slick and shining, but the storm inside me hadn’t. It had purpose now. The past had left scars, yes, but it had also left me with something more potent: resolve. Every crime I solved, every life I saved, every shadow I chased; it was a step away from helplessness, a step toward justice I could never give my father.

I opened the door, the familiar scent of home enveloping me. Each step toward the couch, toward the bed, felt deliberate. I would face what needed to be faced. The ghosts were here, yes, but I was no longer just a child standing over a lifeless father, paralyzed with grief. I was Cami. I was detective. I was survivor. And I would make sure that the next ghost didn’t get away so easily.

The rain had stopped, but I could still feel it on my skin, clinging, persistent, just like the memories. I let it remind me why I fought. Why I had survived. Why I couldn’t let the darkness win, not for myself, not for my father, not for anyone else.