Chapter 10: The Last Move Cameron Made
Detective Marsh read the article.
Petra met with him the following morning and brought the recording, the harassment filing, the counter-claim, and a timeline she had prepared that laid out Cameron's pattern of behavior across four years and six documented incidents involving five different people.
Marsh listened for two hours without interrupting.
When Petra finished, he said: "Why didn't any of these people come forward before?"
Petra set a single page on the table.
Five names.
Five brief summaries of what each person stood to lose if they spoke.
Marsh looked at the page for a long time.
"I'll need to speak with each of them," he said.
"They're expecting your call," Petra said.
Cameron's complaint against Nora and Damon was reviewed, assessed, and quietly set aside within forty-eight hours.
The language in Marsh's internal report described it as lacking evidentiary foundation and inconsistent with documented facts.
Cameron's lawyer issued a statement saying his client was fully cooperating with all relevant inquiries.
Cameron himself said nothing publicly.
But on the fourth day, he came to the building.
Not with lawyers.
Not with documents.
He came alone, mid-morning, and rang the front entrance buzzer.
Lev told Damon.
Damon told Nora.
"He wants to talk," Damon said.
"To you?"
"To you." He watched her face.
"You don't have to."
"I know." She was quiet for a moment.
"I want to."
They met in a ground-floor room near the entrance — neutral ground, Nora's choice.
Damon waited in the corridor.
The door stayed open.
Cameron walked in and looked around the room with the expression of a man recalibrating.
He had aged, somehow, in four days.
The smoothness was still there but it sat differently on his face, like a jacket that no longer fit quite right.
He sat across from her.
"You've been busy," he said.
"I've been safe," she said.
"That's different."
He looked at the table.
"I want you to know that what I did — the emails to Sandra, the filing — I was scared.
I wasn't thinking clearly."
"You were thinking very clearly," Nora said.
"That's what scared me.
You always think clearly.
You calculate everything." She looked at him.
"The emails to Sandra were six weeks ago.
That wasn't panic.
That was planning."
He was quiet.
"What do you want, Cameron?"
"I want this to stop." He looked up.
"The journalist, the detective, Petra Vance.
I want it to stop."
"I'm not the one who started it."
"You went to the police.
You gave them—"
"I gave them the truth," she said.
"You gave them the recording.
You made it, in your own voice, explaining exactly what you do to people." She kept her voice even.
"I didn't do that to you.
You did that."
His jaw tightened.
"If this goes further, it affects people beyond me.
My business partner has a family.
Reeves has—"
"Reeves resigned," Nora said.
"His choices are his responsibility.
Your partner's choices are his." She leaned forward slightly.
"And your choices are yours."
Cameron looked at her for a long moment.
"I loved you," he said.
It came out differently from everything else he'd said.
Quieter.
Less constructed.
"I know you believed that," she said.
"But love isn't what you did."
He didn't answer.
"Go home, Cameron," she said.
"Get a lawyer you actually trust, not one you have leverage over.
And let this process happen.
It's going to happen regardless."
He stood slowly.
Straightened his jacket.
The old habit.
At the door he stopped.
"You're different," he said.
"Yes," she said.
"I am."
He left.
She sat in the room for a moment after the sound of his footsteps faded.
Then Damon appeared in the doorway.
"All right?" he asked.
"Yes." She looked at the empty chair across from her.
"He said he loved me."
"I heard."
"I believed him.
I think he even meant it." She paused.
"But it didn't change anything."
"No," Damon said.
"It doesn't usually."
She stood.
Smoothed her jacket.
The same old habit, she realized, and then recognized it as her own — something she'd had before Cameron, something that had survived him.
"I'm going back to work tomorrow," she said.
"I know."
"I'll need to find somewhere to live.
Properly.
Not a room in your building."
"Mara knows a good letting agent," he said.
"She already mentioned it."
Nora looked at him.
"Did she."
"She mentioned it to me.
Unsolicited." A pause.
"Mara has opinions about most things."
"I like her."
"Most people do, eventually." He stepped back from the doorway.
"Come have coffee.
Petra is calling at noon with an update."
She walked out of the room.
Past the empty chair.
Through the corridor where four days ago she had arrived with two bags and forty-two dollars and a photograph of her father.
The photograph was upstairs, propped against the wall in the room with the comfortable chair.
May you like
She'd hang it properly.
Somewhere that was hers.
