CHAPTEREIGHT
June spent Sunday evening with a glass of wine and her list. Over the past year, the number of party attendees she still wanted to question had dropped to only a few. Which was good, because the more people she eliminated as the possible hit-and-run driver, the fewer people she had to suspect.
But it was disappointing, too, as she’d hoped to have answers by now. Instead, all of the same questions still circled.
Taking a long sip of wine, June put her feet up on the hassock. The efficiency she’d sublet for three months might be small, but it had everything she needed.
When she’d returned to Denver, she’d assumed she’d stay with her mother. After all, spending time with her mom, helping her with her depression, was partially why she was here. But her mother had made it clear she didn’t want a roommate, even her daughter, interfering with her solitude.
Getting an apartment nearby had been the next best choice.
The knock at the door had June jerking her attention to her phone. Though eleven wasn’t particularly late, it was too late for someone to drop by unexpectedly.
Besides, she had few friends left in the area, none of whom would stop by unannounced on a Sunday night. She was still debating whether to answer when another knock sounded.
“June. It’s Cameron.”
Her heart slammed against her ribs.
“A minute.” Rising, she set down her wineglass and padded to the door in her slippers. She told herself that, while she wasn’t dressed for company in her long-sleeved tee and yoga pants, at least she was dressed.
Besides, Cameron wasn’t company.
After what had happened, she couldn’t even call him her friend.
She cast a glance downward and sighed. Then, just before she opened the door, she pulled the band from her hair and let the long strands tumble around her shoulders. After giving her head a shake, she opened the door.
From the doorway, Cameron cast a quick glance around the spartan interior of her apartment. “I hope I’m not interrupting.”
“Just enjoying a glass of wine and doing some reading. Nothing that can’t wait.” She stepped to the side. “I didn’t expect to see you this evening.” Or ever. “Didn’t you have some sort of family dinner tonight?”
“I did. The food was excellent, as always.” He remained where he was. “May I come in?”
Stepping to the side, June gestured to a chair and took a seat opposite on the sofa, slipping one foot beneath her.
He sat on the chair, hands clasped, and gazed at her.
She offered a tentative smile. “I assume there’s a reason you’re here.”
“I’ve been thinking a lot about our last conversation.” Cameron stared at her expectantly.
Waiting for what? June wasn’t sure what he wanted her to say. She wasn’t sorry she’d asked about what he might know about Aubrey’s accident. It had been necessary in order to check him off of her list of people to talk to. Even if he hadn’t been the driver—which in her heart she trusted he couldn’t have been—he might have seen something that could aid in her investigation. “And?”
“Two things.” Cameron cleared his throat. “I believe I overreacted to you wanting to ask me a few questions about the night of your sister’s accident. I’m sorry for that.”
“Thank you.”
“The thought that you planned to deliberately approach me still chafes, though. It seems so cold and calculating.”
June’s knee-jerk response was to argue, but she really didn’t want to argue with Cameron. Especially when he had a point.
She was sorry she hadn’t told him Dion was the name she used only for business. She was sorry she’d questioned him like he was a suspect in a murder. And she was very sorry she hadn’t admitted she had an agenda when she’d met him.
June could see how it had been hurtful for him to realize that she, a person he liked, a person he believed really liked him, had only been after information at first. “I believe if our positions were reversed, I’d feel the same.”
His shoulders sagged, almost as if he’d expelled a breath he’d been holding.
“Do you have another glass?” He gestured to the bottle of Pinot on the kitchen countertop, easily visible from where he sat. Heck, the entire apartment was practically visible from where he sat.