This guy was her alibi, nothing more. She didn’t want anything more out of this. After all, he was married, and the other night it was quite clear he was screwed up. Then again, wasn’t everyone who went to bed with a stranger? Surely most had an emotional need or issue they were dealing with or wanted satisfied. She should know.
Workers started filing through the gate into the lot. The majority seemed on track for the food trucks. She scanned the crowd for any sign of Logan, and just when it was starting to feel like the possibility of seeing him was on par with a unicorn sighting, he walked through the gate. He was headed right for his pickup.
She got out of her car and approached him. He was holding a hard hat in his hands and wearing sunglasses. He slowed his stride at the sight of her.
“Logan, I need to talk to you.”
“Should I even ask how you found—” His gaze had landed on the badge she had clipped to her waist. “Never mind. Cop?”
“Detective, but yeah.”
They were standing face to face now, and he didn’t seem in any hurry to move on so that was a good thing.
“Just a second of your time is all I need,” she said. “I need to talk to you.”
“We tried talking the other night, but it didn’t go too well.”
“We?” She scoffed laughter. “No, I tried to talk. What was going on with you anyway?”
He took a few steps back at the personal question.
“Never mind. None of my business.”
He stopped and faced her. “You’re right about that,” he said and resumed walking.
“You’re giving me such a hard time considering you’re the one who’s married,” she spat.
He returned to her, his stride quickly eating up the bit of distance he’d put between them. Pain danced across his face. “Must be nice to have a badge. It makes stalking a whole lot easier.”
“I’m not stalking you, but enough. Listen, we had our thing the other night, but I need your help. There’s a case… I can’t get into the details, but—”
Logan’s shoulders lowered. “You said something about needing an alibi?”
Given how drunk he’d been, she was surprised he remembered.
“Yes. I need you to testify that we were together this past Sunday from seven until eleven.” The time-of-death window started at six, but she’d been with Logan starting at seven.
His gaze went past her, and it was enough to tell Amanda what he was probably thinking.
“Your wife doesn’t need to find out,” she said. “I just need you to give your statement to my sergeant.”
“What happened during the time of seven to eleven?”
“There was a murder,” she said.
“And what? You’re a suspect?”
“Not exactly, but if I’m going to be allowed to continue working cases, I need this alibi.”
A smile toyed the edges of his lips.
“I’m glad you find this amusing.”
“I find it interesting.”
She stiffened. He was on some sort of power trip, though he didn’t know about the poor girls out there, or that the longer he kept her tied up, the longer they remained prisoners.
“Well, will you testify that we were together or not?”
“What sort of details do I need to hand—”
She scowled and he laughed. The playboy she’d seen in his eyes at the Tipsy Moose the night they’d hooked up was back, alive and well. She briefly considered asking him to make it sound like they were more than they were, but, really, Malone probably wouldn’t care about her having one-night stands. “You just need to speak to my sergeant. Stick to saying we were together at the time.”
“Enjoying each other’s company.” He smirked and she shook her head. He added, “And if your sergeant asks what we were doing?”
“I highly doubt he will.” She viewed Malone almost as a second father sometimes, and if he felt at all the same, he wouldn’t want details about her sex life anyway. “If he asks, just tell him the details of our outing are none of his business—that it’s personal.”
“Sure. I can do that.”
She breathed with relief. “Thank you. I’ll have him call you, but I’ll need your number.”
“Surprised you don’t have it already.”
She wasn’t about to admit that she’d pulled a background report on him and none showed on record. She took out her phone and created a new contact named Alibi. “Ready when you are.”
He rattled off the number and she keyed it in. “What kind of detective are you, anyway?”
“I’m with Homicide.” She put her phone in a pocket.
He squinted behind his shades, small lines forming around his eyes. “Cool.”
“Cool? I investigate murders. That means people have died. There’s nothing cool about it.” That’s what she said at least, but honestly, the Homicide Unit was where she belonged.
“Sure, okay, but I’m going to need you to do me a favor before I—”
“You’re blackmailing a cop?”
“Detective, isn’t that what you said? I’d like to start over. Don’t think I’m asking for much.”
“Start over… what?” Her heart bumped off rhythm, her instinct telling her he was going to ask her out. But there was a huge problem with that. He was a married man, and she didn’t get involved with them. Well, not after she found out they were married anyway. She slept with guys once. One night. One time. One and done.
“I want to go out for dinner with you,” he said. “The whole deal: appetizers, drinks, main course, dessert.”
Her impulse was to correct him; she didn’t drink. “Think you’re forgetting the part where you’re married.”
“Separated, actually. Have been for a couple of years. Well, two years, eight months, sixteen days, but who’s counting.”
“Sounds like you are.”
“Maybe a little, but it’s only because she pisses me off. Look, sorry if I was a real prick the other night. It’s hard to serve divorce papers to someone you can’t find. I hired a private investigator and he’d just followed what turned out to be yet another dead end. But maybe you could help me with that. You seem to have a way of finding people, even if they don’t want to be found.” One corner of his mouth lifted in the beginnings of an arrogant smirk. “So what do you say to dinner?”
She crossed her arms and jutted out her chin. Her heart was racing at the fact she was considering his proposal. “You give my alibi to my sergeant and then we’ll talk.”
“Nope.”
“What do you mean—”
“You tell me right now that you’ll go out to dinner with me and then I’ll talk with your sergeant.”
She felt like she’d just jumped into a swirling whirlpool and was being sucked down to her ultimate demise. “Fine. One dinner.”
“All I’m asking for. We can take it from there.”
“Take it from—take it from—” she stuttered.
“Ah, you’re cute.”
He brushed the back of his hand to her right cheek and walked around her to his truck. He opened the door and turned around, stepped back to her.
“I will need you to shake on this arrangement of ours though. Figure you’re a detective and should keep your word, but—” He held out his hand and she took it. “All right. Have a good one. Talk soon.”
She watched him drive out of the lot. Her legs felt stuck to the gravel. What the hell had just happened, and what had she gotten herself into? Her cheeks were warm, and she palmed them, hating herself for the way her body responded to him. The last time she’d felt anything close to this way, it had been Kevin heating her core. Her chest tugged. She’d felt like she was betraying him by sleeping with other men; how could she ever forgive herself if she started to move on?
Her hands clenched into fists and she resolved she would never let that happen. It was just one lousy dinner, and nothing had even been scheduled. But it was the damn handshake and her word again. She jamme
d the heel of her right boot into the ground.
Her phone rang, the caller ID blocked. She braced herself and answered firmly, “Detective Steele.”
“You’d be wise to back off.” The caller was using a voice modulator, so it was hard to distinguish whether it was a man or woman.
“Who the hell is—”
Click.
She held out her phone and stared at it, confused. Rick Jensen would have no reason to call and threaten her like that, but it left a chilling question. Who did?
She burrowed into her coat, feeling like eyes were crawling over her skin. Could it be someone associated with the data chip and the sex trafficking? If so, they were going to find out that she didn’t scare easily. Rather, they should be afraid because she was going to do everything in her power to save those girls and bring the ring and all those associated with it down.
Thirty-Six
Amanda called Malone to let him know that she had her alibi and gave him Logan’s number.
“I’ll call him,” Malone said.
“So can I work the cold cases?”
“I still need to call… Oh, fine, you can work—”
“Thank you! The girls will thank you too.”
“Just stop everything if any evidence gets you close to Palmer’s murderer, run it by me, and I’ll let you know whether to back off or proceed.”
“Yes, of course.” She hung up and connected her phone to the car’s Bluetooth system and called Trent. His line was ringing over the speakers as she pulled out of the construction lot.
“Detective Stenson,” he answered.
“Trent, how did you make out with Wheable, Freddy, and Courtney about the bracelet?” She should feel bad that she’d just hung up with Malone and was already prying into a case she was banned from, but there was still the matter of Rick’s threat hanging overhead. Guilt over lying to Malone would be nothing compared to letting anything happen to her parents.
“I’d say all of them are telling me the truth when they say they know nothing about it. Well, beyond Freddy saying that Palmer gave it to him.”
“Did you tell them what was on it?”
“I might be a rookie, but I’m not an idiot. Why would they confess knowledge of it if they realized what it had on it?”
Amanda smiled, not that he could see it, but she was pleased to witness Trent growing a backbone. Maybe being out on his own had been the best thing for him. He’d probably become a better detective than he would under her shadow. Then again, he might have already picked up some of her sass. Though he must have possessed some already given that he’d run ahead at a crime scene and got himself shot.
Trent continued. “They were really lost on why I was so interested in a stupid bracelet. And, trust me, I pressed all of them hard and none crumbled. I believed them. Now, Courtney did give me something that might be useful. I was getting ready to call you about it as I just finished speaking with her. To start with, she was at Denver’s Motel from Saturday afternoon until Sunday morning.”
“She lied to us. Why am I not surprised? Also explains the extra towels Palmer requested.”
“Yep.”
“If someone lies once…”
“I know, but I’m sure she really doesn’t know about the bracelet.”
“You said I might find something useful; she’s a liar, is that all?” She stopped for a traffic light a few blocks from Central.
“Nope, it’s that I think she might have seen Casey-Anne Ritter at the pawnshop the day of the accident.”
They hadn’t been able to make the connection without conjecture. “She saw her pawn the bracelet?”
“Can’t be certain.”
“Okay,” Amanda dragged out. “But I’m struggling with why Courtney remembers this from over five years ago. What was so special about Casey-Anne?”
“Apparently she was flirting with Palmer while she was pawning some of her things.”
Some women were more prone to jealousy and possessiveness, and it wasn’t too far a stretch to imagine Courtney could have remembered the interaction.
“Let me guess, she doesn’t remember what she was turning over?”
“Would be nice, but she was too blinded by the green-eyed monster. I did show her Casey-Anne’s picture though, and she was quite sure that could have been her.”
The light turned green and she hit the gas.
Amanda ran through the interview she and Trent had conducted with Courtney in her mind. They’d asked if she knew Casey-Anne and Courtney had said no, but that was explicable if she’d just been a random customer to her. They hadn’t thought to show her Casey-Anne’s photo.
“Okay, so what about our other leads?” She realized she’d said our after it was out.
“I asked Wheable about the empty compartment in the back of the Caprice. He claimed not to know anything about it. He did say Courtney’s the one who took the car from him. Stands behind ‘what happened with it after that wasn’t on him’ and that he has no idea.”
“Like hell. He would be who Freddy was fearful of, I bet. You told me Wheable served time for robbery. I bet he’s back in the game. And Courtney was at Denver’s Motel, the same day Lorraine Nash saw the Caprice. She was probably delivering the car to Palmer that day.”
“Could very well have been. She didn’t admit to that, but I have reached out to the Property Crimes Unit and passed along Wheable’s, Courtney’s, and Freddy’s names with our suspicions. What they do with it from here is their business.”
Amanda turned down the street where Central was located. Trent had filled her in on the bracelet and the car, but one piece she was interested in had been missing from his update. “How did you make out with the coin?”
“It’s not Freddy’s, Courtney’s, or Wheable’s.”
“Well, it was just a thought. Now following the coin might not lead us to Palmer’s killer—but let’s rule it out first. Look up local AA groups and see if they’ll give you a list of everyone who was issued a twenty-year sobriety coin. There can’t be that many.”
“Guess we’ll find out. I’ll keep you posted.”
“Hey, I’m just about to pull into Central. You there?”
“No, I’m following up the taxi angle still. Figured I’d visit the companies in person.”
“Talk later.”
“Bye.” Trent beat her to hanging up.
Realizing he had the investigation under control set her mind at ease about Rick Jensen. As long as Trent was thorough, she could focus on the cold cases, with specific attention on Casey-Anne Ritter, without too much worry.
She parked in the station’s lot and headed for the door when her phone rang. The caller ID was blocked. Unbelievable. People thought by blocking their number they couldn’t be found, but people with tech skills like Jacob could get past it. She’d be calling Jacob for a favor as soon as she had a chance.
She swiped a finger across the screen to accept the call and said nothing.
“Hello?” It was a woman’s voice.
She breathed easier and said, “Detective Steele.”
“CSI Blair.”
Amanda’s chest tightened.
“I got a couple of DNA hits on the epithelial that I pulled from that silver bracelet.”
Amanda stopped walking and a cool breeze circled her. She pulled her coat tighter around her.
Blair went on. “It ties to Chad Palmer, but also to a murder case in Georgia five and a half years ago. The victim, more specifically—”
“Casey-Anne Ritter.” Goose bumps pricked on Amanda’s arms.
“That’s right.” A pause, then, “How did you know that?”
Amanda would like to say she was psychic, but sadly that was far from the truth. “You’re probably also about to say her murder was tied to the Jackson Webb murder case in Woodbridge three days later.”
“Yes. But how— When I told you about Webb’s murder, I didn’t know about the link to the previous one in Georgia. But the same gun was used to kil
l both Webb and Ritter.”
“I’m aware. I’m actually starting to pry into both cold cases.”
“I wish you success.”
If Amanda’s feet hadn’t been grounded firmly on the pavement, she might topple over. This cordial side of Blair wasn’t one she was used to seeing, but Amanda suspected the reason for that, and it didn’t mean Blair suddenly cared for Amanda. “You heard what was in the bracelet?”
“Yeah, like I said, I wish you success—both with solving the murder cases and rounding up those poor girls.”
“Thank you. But just one question, how much would you say a bracelet like that is worth?”
A few seconds then, “A few hundred, nothing too substantial.”
Just enough to get a bus ticket out of town. So there had to be other items Casey-Anne had pawned or another way she’d earned money between Dumfries and showing up at the building manager’s door. “That’s what I would have guessed. Thanks.”
“Uh-huh.” With that, Blair hung up.
“All righty then.” Amanda smiled, looking at her phone in her hand. What CSI Blair might not have known was that she’d just confirmed for Amanda Casey-Anne’s link to Dumfries and the pawnshop. For her DNA to be on the bracelet—a miracle after all this time, though it had spent a bulk of the last several years untouched in lockup—she had to have had it around her wrist at one time.
Thirty-Seven
Malone was walking toward Amanda as she was headed to her cubicle. He had an enormous grin on his face. “What’s up with you?” She raised her brows and proceeded to put her jacket on the back of her chair and sit down.
“I’m just happy for you.”
“Happy for me?” She was obviously missing something.
“Logan Hunter.”
She already didn’t like the direction of this conversation. “What about him?”
“He sounds like a nice guy. And the way he tells it, you two hit it off on Sunday night and spent a lovely evening together. Not sure why it took so long to nail down your alibi. Were you embarrassed to tell me you have a love life?”
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