Page 95 of Lemon Pound Cake Club

Another message came in before I could put my phone down.

Simone: They’re saying it might not be an accident.

After that, the room felt different. I slipped my phone into my robe pocket, put it on, and went downstairs and out the front door. Zaire followed me.

Outside, voices carried through the morning air from all directions.

Snippets of conversation overlapped from across the street.

“I thought Camille was still at the hospital.”

“Someone found the car after midnight.”

Miss Evelyn was already outside, moving slowly down the sidewalk. She stopped beside us.

“You hear?” she asked.

“I just woke up to it,” I said.

She shook her head, eyes fixed on the flashing lights.

“Lord have mercy.”

Across the street, Camille stepped onto the porch. She looked like she hadn’t slept. The hospital bracelet was still on her wrist. Her makeup from last night was gone, and her eyes were swollen. Her skin looked dry in the harsh morning light.

Two detectives joined her on the porch. One held a small notebook, the other carried an evidence bag. I couldn’t hear much from where I stood, so we moved closer, hoping to catch some of the conversation. Miss Evelyn stood by Camille to show support.

Only pieces.

“Did you leave again?”

“I told you no. I came straight home.”

The detective wrote something down. Then another question.

“What about your security cameras?”

Camille's brow furrowed.

“They should show all that.”

“We looked, and they don’t.”

She blinked. “What do you mean they don’t?”

“The system stopped recording shortly after the ambulance arrived.”

She frowned, clearly confused.

“That’s impossible.”

The detective stayed silent.

“That’s what we’re trying to determine.”

More neighbors gathered, hanging back like there was actual police tape. People spoke quietly. Another detective came over, holding a sealed evidence bag.

There was a cellphone inside. He held it up a little.