Twenty Years Later(32)
Victoria kept her gaze focused on the floor, trying her best not to look into his eyes.
“Sooner or later,” Cameron said, “you’re going to have to let me read one of your manuscripts.”
He stood up taller and she allowed her gaze to follow him. Their mouths came together in a passionate kiss. He pushed her against the wall, and his hands cupped the back of her shorts. She bit his bottom lip and for a moment worried that things would go too far while they stood in the hallway, just a few paces from where Tessa slept on the patio chair. Just then, while tangled together, the patio door slid open and Tessa stepped into the kitchen. At the same moment, the alarm on the front door chimed as Jasper returned from the market. In a panic, Victoria pulled roughly out of the kiss and pushed Cameron’s body away from her as she twisted into the bathroom, locking the door behind her. Cameron ran a hand through his hair, collected his breath, and walked into the kitchen.
“You shouldn’t have let me fall asleep,” Tessa said, patting her cheek with the palm of her hand. “I think my face is sunburned.”
“Sorry, hon,” Cameron said, clearing his throat. “You looked so peaceful, I didn’t want to wake you.”
Jasper walked into the kitchen holding a paper bag from the butcher. “Four rib eyes, thick cut. Plus asparagus and portabellas.”
“Good man,” Cameron said, forcing a smile.
Jasper looked at him with a thick crease cutting between his eyebrows. “What happened to your lip?”
Cameron reached up and touched his lower lip, still feeling Victoria’s teeth. When he pulled his hand away, his fingers were smeared with blood.
“Oh.” He swiped his tongue over his lower lip and wiped away the blood with the back of his hand. “I must have bitten it.”
“You nearly bit it off. Better put some ice on that bad boy,” Jasper said as he placed the steaks on the kitchen counter. “I’ll season these so they’re ready for tonight.”
“Good idea,” Tessa said, keeping her face stoic and her gaze leveled on her husband as she walked to the freezer, removed an ice cube, and handed it to him. “For your lip.”
CHAPTER 19
Manhattan, NY Friday, June 25, 2021
WALT TOOK ANOTHER SIP OF RUM AND QUICKLY TURNED THE PAGE. He was amazed at how quickly the details of the investigation were coming back to him. He realized that the memories had not so much faded and disappeared, but had instead been warehoused. Stored away and slowly covered by the dust of life—the accumulation of years and the distractions that accompanied them. But as he flipped through the pages of the file now, he was transformed back into that twenty-eight-year-old kid who had found himself in the middle of a homicide investigation that was about to capture the attention of the nation.
THE CAMERON YOUNG INVESTIGATION
Walt finished his second walk-through of the big house in the Catskill Mountains and started his long drive back to the city. He worked through what he knew so far. The community he was leaving was quiet, calm, and tranquil. People there were wealthy. People there knew each other. Crime was uncommon. There was little chance Cameron Young had been killed randomly. There was little chance the man did not know his killer.
As he drove, Walt reviewed what he had learned in the last twenty-four hours about the art of deviant sex, having brought himself up to speed on the nuances of BDSM sex during a two-in-the-morning Internet binge the previous night. He cringed at the thought of anyone looking through his browser history. BDSM—bondage/dominance/sadism/masochism—was aggressive, often rough and painful sex between two consenting adults that included a wide variety of props and toys. Consenting was a buzzword Walt had seen in just about every article he read, although he wondered how consenting Cameron Young had been the night he died. Something dark and dangerous had taken place in that bedroom.
The analysis of the blood found on the carpeting of the closet, as well as the urine in the toilet, was being expedited so it could be compared against DNA samples Walt would soon collect from potential suspects. Similarly, the fingerprints lifted from the kitchen knife and the wineglass left on the nightstand would also be compared against prints Walt would obtain. After his initial interview, Walt decided the first samples he would ask for would be from Cameron Young’s wife.
Walt drove his unmarked squad car across the George Washington Bridge. He fought stagnant Manhattan traffic until he found a mostly legal parking spot in the West Seventies neighborhood on the Upper West Side. The Youngs’ Manhattan residence was a two-bedroom ground-floor apartment on Seventy-Sixth Street. Walt shrugged his suit coat onto his shoulders and adjusted his cuffs as he walked to the front door and rang the bell. Tessa Young answered. Her eyes were red-rimmed and wet, her nose chafed and raw.
“Mrs. Young. Thanks for agreeing to speak with me again. I know you’re having a hard time, but I’d like to bring you up to speed on what I’ve learned.”
Tessa nodded, ran the back of her hand across her nose, and allowed Walt to enter her home. He followed her to the kitchen and accepted Tessa’s offer of coffee. She poured two cups and they sat at the kitchen table.
“Again, I’m sorry to give you no space during this difficult time, but my job is to figure out what happened to your husband, and to do it as quickly as possible. To that end, I need to ask some pointed questions.”