Page 41 of Aftermath

Before he stormed off, he announced, "Thank you for your cooperation, but this is the end. I have one meeting left—with Sam and Frank—and then it's time to terminate the project." He paused. "By project, I mean you. All of you." Lastly, there was a smile in his voice. "How do you feel about fire?"

Austin shot up from the bed and gasped for air while tears streamed down his face.

He was sure he could smell the gasoline.

13

Cam was almost home, having walked Bourbon and picked up two burritos, when he saw a man about to ring the doorbell. Because Austin was asleep inside, Cam sped up.

"Can I help you?" he asked irritably.

He vaguely recognized the man as a neighbor from farther down the street. He was around Cam's age, maybe a few years younger, not very tall, slim, his dark hair a lot shorter on the sides than at the top of his head, plenty of ink and piercings, and looked like a mix between a skateboarder and a punk rocker.

"Sorry," the guy said, sticking his hands down into the pockets of his baggy chinos. "I didn’t mean to disturb. I tried to call you earlier."

Cam raised a brow. Maybe this had been the anonymous caller, and it made sense. His home phone number was unfortunately listed, but his cell phone number wasn’t. Though, if this dude had been calling, he could've gotten the number from the contact sheet that everyone on the block had.

"I live down the street," he went on uncomfortably. "I'm trying to get in touch with Chase Gallardo—"

"Not interested," Cam snapped abruptly. Fucking hell, when were people gonna let this go? Idiots were still trying to contact all the surviving men for interviews, and they despised the attention. These were regular men who just wanted to get on with their lives.

Cam couldn’t say he was close to the other guys, Chase included, but he did see them once every other week for their group session with Gale.

"Please wait," the guy practically begged. "I need to talk to him—to apologize."

That made Cam turn his head. With one hand on the door handle, he stared at the younger guy, who appeared to be fighting tears. He hid behind a stony mask of anger, but Cam saw guilt and desperation there, too.

"I was contacted by the police a few weeks ago," the guy explained, stumbling over his words. "Several people in my family were. But it wasn’t until yesterday that a few details about the investigation were made public." Cam had shut out everything about the case, 'cause he saw no reason to follow the damn investigation. It wasn’t like there'd be a trial or anything. Now they were just trying to piece things together, and regardless of how plausible each theory was, they'd never get solid proof. "I found out who Chase Gallardo was supposed to be when you were kidnapped—" he released a shaky breath "—by my half-brother."

Cam clenched his jaw, willing himself to calm down. It was probably the fury in his eyes that made the other guy take a step back. "Who are you, exactly?" he asked in an eerily calm voice.

"My name is Remy." He said it as if it was a crime to carry that name. "Remy Stahl."

Cam nodded jerkily. Chase had been given the name Remy in that basement. It was Psycho's little brother. "Half-brother?"

"Yes." The guy, Remy, tugged at the piercing in his lip, and now he kept his eyes downcast. "My—our…father had an affair with-with my mom." Perhaps that could explain the age gap, 'cause Remy couldn’t be much older than thirty, and Psycho had to have been in his late forties or fifties; plus, he had an older brother, to boot. "Look, I didn’t come here to start trouble or anything. I barely have any contact with my family, but I wanna apologize to Chase…" He trailed off, still looking guilty.

Cam guessed it was survivor's guilt of whatever-the-fuck he could call it.

"I don’t have his number," Cam said. "Don’t know where he lives, either. But…" He hesitated for a beat. "I'm gonna see him next week." They had a group session on Tuesday. He could mention this to Chase then.

Remy nodded and let out a breath. "I'll understand if he doesn’t wanna see me. Is it all right if I drop off a letter for him?"

Cam didn’t really see the harm in that. "I guess."

Bourbon was quick to run into the kitchen to drink, and Cam went for the fridge to get some drinks, too. They'd only been out for a couple hours, but because Cam hadn't really eaten—he didn’t count the scrambled eggs that tasted like shit—he was fucking starving now.

After leaving Austin's burrito in the kitchen, he took his own and a soda and headed for the patio. But when he reached the living room, he stopped short at the sight of the empty bed. Again, he'd only been gone a couple hours, which meant Austin hadn't slept long. At all.

"Austin?" he called out. He didn’t get a response, but when he walked down the hall toward the bathroom, he heard the shower running. "You okay in there?"

"Yeah." Austin's voice was nearly drowned out by the sound of water. "I'll be out soon."

Cam frowned, then told himself he was worrying for nothing, and went outside.

While he sat at the table, shielded by the umbrella, he ate in silence and mulled over the weird meeting with Remy Stahl. He didn’t really know what to make of it, though, so he just shook it off. Maybe if he'd been closer to Chase, he'd have an opinion. All Cam really knew about Chase was that he was a thirty-six-year-old bartender; he was quiet and reserved.

"Shit." Cam rubbed at his chest, having eaten too fast. Again. More Pepto was definitely coming his way.

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