Justice Falling (Falling #3)(68)
“Yes, son. You can have more pizza now.” I fluffed his hair and served my boy another slice.
The three of us sat as one little family. Camille stared at her ring and picked up her glass. I picked up my own and Tanner held his up. “What should we toast to?” Camille asked.
“To us. Mum, Dad and my son.”
Tanner beamed and we all clinked our glasses, sealing the toast with love and a bright future.
Chapter 17
When a woman becomes engaged, something changes. A confidence that you didn’t have before fills your essence, adds a bounce to your step, and seals a smile to your face. That’s how I felt. Like a confident, happily-in-love woman who had the whole world ahead of her. Nate gave me that last week when he put a shiny diamond ring on my finger, declared his love for me on the streets of New York, and asked me to be his wife. As if that wasn’t enough, he even asked Tanner if he could be his father.
I hummed along with a tune I had playing on my iPod as I dusted our desks. Nate and Tanner were playing soldiers in his room down the hall. Tanner’s squeals of laughter were music to my ears. In the past three weeks, he’d changed so much. No longer was he timid with Nate. He, too, seemed to be filled with a confidence driven by a secure and stable home life.
Smiling happily as I cleaned, I shifted the mess of papers and files on Nate’s desk, trying to put them in some semblance of order. Something caught my eye. My name. I sat down in his leather chair and tugged the bright red folder from the messy stack of files. Yep, Camille Johnston–Full Investigative Report was neatly typed on the flap. On the top of the file was a yellow sticky note with a Stark Investigations logo and a Manhattan address, phone, number, and website.
In almost illegible writing, I made out the following:
Walker –
Hope this info gets you the girl.
-Johnny
What the hell was this? Nate had me investigated? Why? When? So many questions ran through my mind as I opened the file. Inside were approximately ten to fifteen sheets of information. The first was a summary of the rest. I scanned the first page noting my name, address, a picture of my driver’s license, my employment history, however brief. Page two had a copy of my high school transcripts, my current college coursework and grades. The next couple pages were marked “confidential” and were a history of my foster care. It clearly showed each home I’d been placed in from birth through age eighteen. A social worker’s commentary about removing me from abusive homes was noted.
As I read the pages, the memories of that life slammed into me. My heartbeat sped up as I read through each account of abuse and the corresponding hospital or child psychology visit. It was worse when I was younger. I didn’t remember the broken arms, legs and bruises. There was even a full written statement from my Kindergarten teacher. She was convinced I was being beaten and called child protective services, who paid a visit to the home. The home turned out to have ten foster kids living there and two sisters who were prostitutes.
Jesus. It was shocking how little I recalled. The pages included Doctors’ reports after I was pulled from each home, confirming I was still a virgin, my hymen intact. Reading this part particularly turned my stomach. A heavy ache in my gut, chest, and heart made me feel weighted, rooted to the chair. I was barely able to move as memories poured over me. Years of abuse, regret, and sadness came back in a thunderous wave that choked me. My stomached churned and I grabbed the trash can and retched the remains of my breakfast into the can. Dry heaves wracked my body. As I came back to the here and now, I felt a cool cloth on my forehead.
“It’s okay, love. You’re okay.” Nate’s voice broke through the terror of reliving my past. I gripped him to me, holding on so tightly I may have bruised him. He didn’t care. He held me tighter, whispering sweet nothings, petting my hair, back and sides until I calmed down. I grabbed a tissue off his desk, blew my nose, then slumped back into the chair.
“What happened? Why did you get sick?”
I took a deep breath and searched his eyes. Nothing but concern and love stared back.
“How could you?” I grabbed the file and shook it in his face. He looked at it as if he’d never seen it before.
He grabbed the folder, read the name and saw the note. His eyes widened. “Precious, this is not what it looks like.”
“Really? Because it looks like you had me investigated. Why? Why would you do that?”
His hands curled around my biceps and he brought his face close to mine. “Listen to me. Yes, I had you investigated. That was right when we met.” I stiffened in his arms and tried to pull away. “No, no way. You are not running. You are going to listen.”
“Talk fast,” I grated through my teeth, anger and hurt filling my tone.
“I admit to having you investigated. Only it was when we first met. You didn’t want to go out with me. Christ, I had to chase you at every turn. And I…shite, Camille. I really wanted to know you.”
“So you had my privacy exploited. Betrayed my trust? Why didn’t you just ask me what you wanted to know instead of reading my entire life in here?” I tapped the red folder.
“I didn’t. I swear. I haven’t read it. Johnny delivered it months ago. It’s been sitting on my desk this whole time and I’d forgotten about it. I swear to you on all that’s holy I didn’t read it!” His tone was pleading and laced with fear. “Camille, I promise on our love, on Tanner’s life that I did not read that file.”