“Looks like it.”
“Anything on the first woman?”
He shook his head. “The first thing I thought too. The woman they found outside the Gamegon building didn’t have anything on her. No identification. Nothing. We even scoured the nearby trash without luck.”
But she had the same scrapes. The same type of precise wound. Almost like a surgical incision. Nora’s blood had been all over the weapon, but what about their Jane Doe?
Both were tall, blonde, and relatively thin for their condition. Coincidence?
Or was she merely putting the two together because Davis had suggested it? As if the other woman knew more than she let on. “I gotta go, Mark. I’ll check back later.”
“Sure.”
Amanda turned and retraced her steps. She needed to catch up to Davis and decipher her odd departures of the day and her visit to the house last night.
“One more thing.” Mark’s voice held an edge of hesitancy.
She turned back, something dark crawling into her gut.
“There’s lots of speculation going on—about you and Davis and your work ethic. How you might have used your connections to get out of a few tight spots. Maybe found a fall guy in your former partner. Maybe Davis helped you. Maybe not. I’m not saying I believe all the talk…”
She’d heard it all before. It didn’t stop the swell of frustration humming in her bloodstream, making her wish she had the guts to walk away from Charlotte’s safekeeping without a care. “What are you saying, Mark?”
“I thought you should know she and a gentleman had what looked like a heated discussion right outside the front doors. Never seen the guy before. Tall, dark hair. Pressed suit. He didn’t seem threatening, but he didn’t look happy either. He blocked her attempt to enter the building at least twice before storming off.”
Amanda had never seen her partner with anyone of the opposite sex that wasn’t within law enforcement. And even then, the other detective tended to keep everyone, men and women alike, as far out of her inner circle as propriety would allow, and maybe a tad farther.
“And this is interesting because…?”
He shoved one hand in his pocket. “Because I was outside when it happened. And I heard him say something about our Jane Doe’s fingerprints. That no one could ever discover the truth. Instead of demanding answers, she silenced him. As if the outcome was more important to her than him. And then he handed over a tape.”
What the…?
“I wanted you to know. That’s all.”
“What kind? Mini, VHS, cassette?” Amanda glanced at the door and tried to get her heart into a normal rhythm.
“VHS. One of those thick, black plastic kinds.”
Could be nothing. “Did she have access to the prints already?”
“Yesterday.”
And she hadn’t mentioned running them through any database. Was Robinson’s suspicion warranted? “I’m gonna need a formal statement.”
He gave a grim nod.
“Thanks, Mark.”
She exited the building and caught sight of Davis’ brown Toyota pulling from the lot. As if someone had lit a large bonfire under her, Davis maneuvered the vehicle through the row and toward the street. She had her phone pressed to her ear, her focus on the road ahead.
Amanda headed for her vehicle and pulled her cell from her pocket. Dialed Robinson’s number and prepared for a conversation that might be difficult at best.
“Took you long enough.” The crunch of an apple came over the line, but didn’t belie the annoyance filling each of his syllables. “We gonna talk about this?”
“Nope.”
“That’s not how this works, A.J.”
No, it wasn’t. “How long do I have before you present the evidence to Sergeant Brink?”
“Who said I was going to?”
No answer would satisfy. This was the man who searched for evidence everyone thought they already had. He was honest to a fault. Loved like there was no tomorrow. Didn’t give up when things looked bleak. All of it was endearing and frustrating. And made him who he was. “Don’t be stupid, Robbie.”
“I’m just borrowing a page from a chapter of your book. You know, taking a chance on what I believe in.”
No. She didn’t want that. It meant risk neither of them could afford. The loss of the hard-won reputation at least one of the two of them could still tout. The whispers that didn’t touch him. She wanted—
“I can tell by your silence that it makes you super happy and is beyond flattering. So much so, I’ve rendered you speechless.” He sighed. “What’s for dinner?”
Amanda pinched the bridge of her nose. Shook her head. “Nothing for you, smart guy.”
If Mark was hearing snippets of gossip, how much more was Robinson dealing with? And he never said a word. “Is there anything in that file I need to know about?”
“That’s all relative. I’ve asked Dexter to take a look at it.”
“Dexter?” Robinson’s friend worked for the Bureau of Prisons. He didn’t typically offer profiling services, was generally speculative and saw potential when no one else could.
“Yes. I would have told you that when you were here if you’d stuck around. Instead—”
“We aren’t talking about it, remember?”
A huff came through the line. “You ever wonder why Davis is always everywhere? Always seems to have the right answers. Cool. In control. Yet completely aloof. So much so that most people stop trying to get past her barriers after a few tries. Label her as a loner. One who is decent at her job. Has had a little good fortune to be in the right place at the right time.
“Well, I’m not buying it. And what’s with all the sickness? She’s either lying about being pregnant, she’s dying, it’s self-inflicted or she can’t handle crime scenes. And if it’s the latter, why become a homicide detective?”
Amanda blinked. Tried not to let his words smash the remaining bubbles of Davis’ innocence still bobbing in her mind. She’d heard those whispers about herself. Minus the sickness and the aloof and often cantankerous attitude. “You’ve put a lot of thought into this.”
“I’ve had time on my hands.”
“You were off work for two weeks.” His doctors had advised taking a month to recoup after the accident. The stubborn man had gone and gotten cleared by the FBI. Returned to his duties as if he’d played out the turn of events a million times and this was one more incident he could add to the list. “Ever think you might be wrong?”
“You want me to be wrong. I want me to be wrong. Doesn’t mean I’m going to ignore my gut.”
Like she’d been ignoring hers, about everything in complete obstinacy. “If you’re consulting Dexter, I want in on it too.”
“That’s better.” The smile in his voice came through in every syllable. It loosened the knot in her stomach. After all the years she’d known him, she still wondered how he managed to turn everything around for the better.
When it came to Robinson, she was screwed. He knew her strengths and weaknesses. When she’d jump on board without hesitation and how to get her to do so when she employed stubbornness. “Don’t get cock—”
The squeal of tires split the air. It was followed by the crunch of metal on metal. Amanda froze for half a second before turning in the direction the noise had come from. Beyond the building, a white fifteen-passenger van had t-boned a brown Toyota and pinned it between its metal and a willow oak. Smoke rolled off the larger vehicle’s hood.
Was that Davis’ car?
The blare of a horn sounded in the sudden quiet.
Amanda’s legs carried her in that direction on instinct.
“A.J.?” The initials ran together in the half-soothing way he used sometimes. Only now it held a hint of anxiety that jumped into her body.
“Do me a favor. Call 911.” She jogged toward the vehicles. “I’ve got an accident outside of the lab.”
The van lurched backward, its tires peeling against the asphalt. Aman
da halted near the chain-link fence surrounding the building. The natural fight-or-flight reaction took control of every muscle in her body, while her brain decided the appropriate response.
The whining rev of the engine came seconds before the vehicle gunned toward her. She let out an expletive and dove to the right. Her elbow and knee made purchase on hard concrete first. The rest of her body followed suit in a roll that sent her into the street. And closer to Davis’ unmoving form within her car.
Her phone flew from her grasp. It skidded to a stop beneath a tire as the van rammed into the fence. The vehicle tore forward, crunching over her device. Then it clipped the edge of Davis’ Toyota and veered into the street like a stumbling drunk walking out of a bar.
A sting radiated up her right arm as she scrambled into a standing position. She headed for the Toyota. The driver’s side door looked as if an invisible fist had punched the metal. Remnants of the window lay scattered on the ground and the inside of the car.
Davis let out a groan, then shot upright and took in her surroundings. A trickle of red oozed from somewhere above her temple. She gave a harsh tug on the left side of her body.
A flash of another accident, another head wound, played like a horror movie in front of Amanda. Blood. So much blood. An invisible hand squeezed her windpipe. She forced a breath through her mouth.
Get a grip, Nettles.
“Stay still a second, Davis. You’ve been in an accident.” A tremor made her voice a bit raspy.
The other woman’s head snapped toward Amanda. She blinked, looked around at the scene and started a frantic pat of her body. And then she was a flourish of movement as she pulled her legs from beneath the displaced steering wheel. “Gotta get outta here.”
Amanda placed a hand on her shoulder. Delayed her struggle. “Just relax a minute. Where’s your phone?”
“My phone?” Her words were a little slow. She rubbed her free hand across her forehead. Noted the splash of red across her fingertips. A tremor started in the appendage before she clamped her fingers together and dropped her arm. She shrugged Amanda’s fingers from her body. “Move. We gotta go after that guy.”
Amanda stepped back.
Davis maneuvered her upper body through the window and placed both hands on the semi-crumpled roof of her car. Blood trailed from a giant gash on her left arm. She moved from the vehicle as if she felt nothing. No pain. No fear. Had only one thing in her sights.
In the right place. At the right time.
“That jerk ran into me on purpose.” She hopped to the ground and wavered on her haunches for a second before standing. Her face had taken on the pale hue Amanda had come to recognize as a sign that her partner was most likely about to yak. Everywhere.
And then she’d tidy up as if it had never happened. Carry on as if everyone had the same problem. And throw out attitude so thick it left a person wondering if they’d been chewed up one side and down another or been complimented.
The corner of a phone peeked from between where the cushion of the driver’s side seat met the bottom. Davis stumbled in the direction the van had gone.
“Hold up.” Amanda leaned in and swiped it. Noted a black plastic box wedged between the console and seat. It looked like a…
VHS tape holder. She grabbed it, shoved it inside her blazer and caught up with Davis.
Bit back a dose of guilt.
“You catch the plates?”
“What are you gonna do?” Amanda matched her speed. Could whiz past her partner without trying, given her five-ten stature versus Davis’ five-two. “Chase him down on foot?”
“I got a good look at the guy.” Sweat dotted her brow, which wasn’t atypical in the June heat. “He was waiting for me.” Her steps slowed.
“What do you mean?”
Davis shot her a glare and heaved in a breath that didn’t seem to help. “He was at the end of the street.” As if unable to get her bearings, she looked around, then ran a hand over her head. Her fingers smeared a glob of red across her temple in the process. “I pulled out.” She staggered to the left, caught herself. “He gunned it.”
Amanda moved closer. “Davis?”
Those green eyes locked on her. And then, as if her bones had turned to Jell-O and given out, she crumpled.
CHAPTER SIX
EIGHTEEN YEARS AND fifteen homes. And that was between the time spent in state facilities.
The facts circled faster than a tornado. What was it like to have the stability two loving parents could offer torn from you? Or missing altogether?
Amanda closed the file. She handed it back to Robinson, who stood next to her outside of Mercy Hospital’s Emergency Department. The sun glared in her face and had her turning toward the entry.
Would Paige’s children fare the same? Would they wonder what their life might have been like? She shook her head. No. They’d find homes—a home.
Robinson followed suit, his arm brushing against her bandaged elbow in the process. A sting flashed upward.
He tucked the file beneath one arm. Then his hands curled around her injured arm, one above and directly below the unwarranted piece of gauze the paramedics had insisted she wear. His fingers were warm and gentle.
“Did they take a look at this?”
“It’s a scratch. Hit the pavement a little faster than I should have.”
His gaze met hers. His thumb stroked a soothing rhythm across her skin. Goosebumps raced upward.
“Gotta watch that blacktop.” The words were humorless. In fact, he’d said very little since arriving at the hospital. He hadn’t mentioned anything more about her harsh words inside his office. Nor was he pressing her to talk about Paige or her mom.
Which suited her fine, because she couldn’t trust herself not to fall apart. What was she going to do if her mom had actually committed these or any crimes? The woman had no access to the kind of knife used to end Nora’s life, yet she’d had it in her possession.
He dropped his hands. “Want to speculate how a woman who’s been in and out of hospitals her entire life made it through the academy?”
No. She wanted to trust her gut for once. And prove to him and everyone else that she wasn’t a danger-seeking magnet, but a woman interested in the truth. In saving lives. “It’s impressive, if you think about it.”
He shook his head as if she should know better. “Or someone pushed her through.”
“I get what you’re doing. If the positions were reversed, I might do the same.” She locked eyes with him. The sea-green of his irises captured her attention and lured her into a world where only the two of them existed. There she could breathe without fear of the next bout of trouble she couldn’t resist walking into.
Who would suffer if she didn’t?
He stepped closer, reached behind her and gripped the door handle, but didn’t enter. In her space like always. A fact that had never really bothered her. Not even in the days before they’d been in any sort of romantic relationship. It should have been her first clue as to what he might mean to her one day.
Anger and anxiety warred with respect and love. As usual.
You are one messed up chick.
“So, why do you look like someone just punched your kid?” His voice was soft, as if he hadn’t asked a question that might have a negative answer.
It had her wanting to forget their entire day. Move a little closer. Of its own volition, her gaze strayed to his lips. One taste and they would be right there. And when they came up for air, the day would be lying in wait.
Like a hungry wolf.
“Because, it’s not like you to grasp onto an idea like this. You’re more of an innocent-until-I-find-the-evidence-to-prove-you-guilty type of guy.”
He pressed his lips together. His free hand went to her bandaged elbow, a feather-light touch that said more than words. “Nothing different about this, right? Another day on the job?”
Except it wasn’t. That van had gunned in her direction. And based on what Davis had relayed, done th
e same to her. Why?
Sure, they had a description any sketch artist could whip up. Dark hair, dark eyes. Baseball cap that didn’t cover much of either. And plates that didn’t show up in any DMV database.
She sighed and spun toward the double doors, opened the one he wasn’t holding and walked through. “Wrong place. Wrong time.”
“Exactly.” His voice was right behind her as they maneuvered through the halls of the ER, toward where Davis resided, for the moment.
“Want me to point out all your little close calls, Robbie?” She stopped, then turned to face him. Didn’t know where the compulsion to defend a woman she hardly knew came from. Especially to the man who only had her best interests at heart.
But it felt a lot like defending herself. “This is what I do. What I’ve always done. What’s with the sudden worry over my safety?”
Something dark glittered across his face before he straightened. He tapped the folder against his free palm. “I get that she saved your life. I’m beyond grateful.” His voice took on a husky quality. “You’re grateful. Don’t let it skew your grip on reality, A.J.”
That wasn’t right. One month ago Davis had been in that so-called right place at the right time and delivered a well-deserved bullet on Amanda’s behalf. Those events weren’t hampering the truth.
She wouldn’t let it.
Robinson pulled her to the opposite side of the hall. “You’re great at what you do. Easily the best detective I’ve ever worked with.”
“And your buttering me up only works in certain situations.” Or ninety-nine percent of the time, because it was never fake, making her the luckiest girl alive or the stupidest.
“I’m asking you to look at the big picture. She may not be what she seems.”
“Based on what?”
He held up the file.
Foster homes. Fights. Medical issues. College. The academy. And then years working CMPD’s reception as if Davis were too scared to move on. Or make friends. With the random whispers she’d heard throughout the precinct, Amanda had always assumed the other woman’s quiet tendencies were the result of a breakup gone bad.
OBSESSION (The Bening Files (Novella) Book 4) Page 6