Page 24 of Forged in Peril

The radio was playing in the background, but she struggled to focus on the music. Whether she wanted it to or not, her mind kept wandering to the morning she’d spent with Cameron.

They had had fun–even she had to admit it–but that hardly mattered. As she’d explained to him, she had no interest in working in the security field long term, and once she became a full-fledged lawyer, she doubted FBS’s tiny legal department would have room for her.

And she was not about to spend the rest of her life doing paralegal grunt work.

Though the criminal law experience that this job offered was helpful, it was the money she needed more than anything, and once she had what she needed, she’d be on her way. It was easy for Cameron to talk about God’s plan–he already had so much of what he wanted, and unlike her, he wouldn’t have to give it all up if he fulfilled his dream of getting married and starting a family.

A few minutes later, she turned into the trailer park and slowed the car to a crawl, keeping a close eye out for dogs, neighbors on an evening stroll, or any wayward children up past their bedtime. She frowned as she noticed that one of the older ladies who lived nearby, Alice, still hadn’t gotten her rotting porch steps fixed. They looked like they were about to detach from the rest of the ancient trailer.

No, she wasn’t interested in the sort of Divine plan she’d grown up hearing about.

The life that had been offered to her mother had probably sounded like a fairytale, too.

Her father had asked her mother’s hand in marriage, paid the rent on their little marital apartment on Main Street, and given her a baby girl.

And not even a decade later–after her mother had spent her prime career advancement years at home tending to skinned knees and helping with schoolwork–he’d found a younger model and left, never to return.

She put the car into park and grabbed her work bag, taking her usual extra look around the lot and the nearby trailers to make sure that no one was watching her before climbing up onto the porch steps.

The younger model got the fairytale, and Moira Chaplin got to rinse bedpans for a couple of bucks above minimum wage, just enough to pay the lot rent on the trailer that the alimony settlement had been enough to buy. That’s what following God’s plan had gotten her mother.

No thanks.

Still, despite her anger at the circumstances her mother had been forced into, it was nice to be home.

Now that she no longer had to operate a motor vehicle, the tiredness seemed to overtake her body all at once. She hurried to get ready for bed, ready to follow Jaclyn’s instructions and squeeze in as many hours of sleep as she possibly could before morning.

After turning on three separate alarms on her phone and setting it on the nightstand, she climbed into her old twin bed, pulled the warm blankets up to her chin, and closed her eyes.

CAMERON

“Come on, bro,” Cameron protested, jabbing a finger in the general area of Ben’s ribs, “I can’t even see.”

The two of them were crowded around Ben’s desk. Most of their staff had gone home already, but Ben had finally heard back from his contact at the security camera manufacturer. For the last two hours, they’d been trying to get something useful from the warped footage from the smashed cameras in the parking garage.

Cameron had waited around while his older brother worked, attempting to clean his own office to pass the time with minimal success.

“There’s nothingtosee yet. This is the old footage, from just after the last patrol. Bobby was on duty that night,” Ben said, the tone of his voice so deep that the words reminded Cameron more of a growl than actual speech. “Look.”

Cameron obeyed, leaning forward in his chair toward one of Ben’s several computer monitors, squinting at the Monday evening footage from the FBS garage. Even if Ben assured him it was clear, he had to double-check for himself.

He could see Bobby Altman, an older hispanic male, finishing up his security sweep of the far side of the garage before heading back toward the stairwell.

Nothing strange about that.

Bobby had been working at FBS for several years, and he’d never been anything but trustworthy. Besides, other security footage placed him on the second floor when the spray painting and tire slashing had likely taken place.

“And this one,” Ben continued, switching to another camera. Cam could see concrete walls and pillars, as well as the glow of security lights, but little else.

Ben continued to click through all of the camera angles one by one. There were cars in a few of them, including their own vehicles, but nothing suspicious.

“Okay, I get the point,” Cameron said. “Show me the stuff from the smashed cameras.”

Ben nodded, moving his huge hand on the mouse while tapping something on the keyboard.

“Whoever did this was very careful. He knew his angles and stayed out of sight until the last possible second, and then used a powerful flashlight to blind the lens until he could smash it. Probably with a bat, though one would think he would have smashed Bristol’s car windows, in that case.

“Anyway, obviously, once he starts swinging, the footage stops pretty quick,” Ben paused, rolling the mouse wheel and selecting another file. “But everything right before still made it onto cloud storage.”

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