Aftermath

by Rachel Trautmiller

  Whoa.

  Ariana’s school. Smarmy, Unlikeable-Sam taught impressionable kids all day?

  Jordan’s gaze flicked to Robinson, a silent let it be written all over his face. Next to him, Amanda practically vibrated with the need to set this guy straight.

  If she lunged for him, Robinson would make it look like he was doing his best to hold her back. Even give her a hand, in the end.

  “Hershel, huh?” Robinson tucked his hands in his pockets. Tried to portray a mild amount of interest. Instead of the high-alert status monster jumping on his chest. “What subject?”

  Unlikeable-Sam glanced in his direction as if he were a pesky student, always asking the same question. “Math.”

  “Sounds rough. Teaching little, punk kids about something they will never use.” Had his niece been present, the sentence would never have left his lips. Not as much as she struggled with the subject.

  The other man stood a little straighter. His jaw tightened as he raised his head toward the sky a fraction. “Spoken like someone with a minimum wage job.”

  A bark of laughter took him by surprise. “Oh, you’ve got me there.”

  As if he thought one of them might come to blows or worse, Jordan stepped forward. “What do you want, Sam?”

  Sam turned toward him, nonchalance falling over his frame. “A guy can’t say hello to classmates?”

  The sound of Amanda’s phone cut through the end of his question.

  She grabbed it from her pocket and put it to her ear. “Detective Nettles.” That beautiful gaze centered on the other man, full of pride. “Got an address?” Her face never changed. “Okay. Meet you there.” The phone disappeared back to where it came from. “This has been fun. Thanks for the walk down memory lane.” Amanda turned to Robinson. “Ready?”

  Always. “Lead the way.”

  She turned and headed toward his SUV, parked a block north from the bar. As if she’d actually come with him instead of driving herself. Fine by him. He was versatile enough to weave normal with what-gives in a conversation.

  “Hey,” Sam said. “What was the name of that foster girl your family had, junior year? Didn’t she end up being a little crazy in the head?”

  Everything inside Robinson stilled. Over a year hadn’t dulled the sharp blade that encompassed Bethany Markel or the serial bombing incident they’d all dealt with. Amanda’s step faltered. To her credit, she didn’t stop. Picked up as if she’d meant to stumble.

  One glance back told Robinson that Sam’s face held a victorious smile. For what?

  Robinson followed Amanda. Dug his keys from his pocket. Ignored the heated edge of anger slicing through his gut.

  “You’re such a dick.” McKenna’s voice drifted to them.

  “What?” The incredulity in Sam’s voice hinged on McKenna’s words. As if he really had no idea.

  Amanda’s arms swung in determination, her gaze centered on his vehicle. Mouth pinched tight. He should go back and show that prick what he was messing with. He didn’t even need an explanation to feel justified here. He’d take out every frustration until—

  “Don’t make a big deal out of it.” Amanda’s voice held the cut of anger. “Please. Not tonight.”

  He was starting to hate the phrase. “That guy has never touched a garden hose, much less a rake or shovel. There’s no way. Been a smarmy bastard all his life? That I believe. Probably born with a damn silver spoon shoved up his—”

  “Robbie.” At the passenger side door of his SUV, she stopped. Took a breath. “A couple of college kids came across the body of a girl. Description fits Kimberly Rose.”

  CHAPTER NINE

  SAM RICHARDSON—A crush Amanda had entertained as a teen—was the least of her problems. His words were the pathetic attempt at a game she had no interest in playing. His responses amped up by Robinson’s simple questions. She did, however, plan to dig into his employment. His home life. One misstep and she’d destroy him, legally.

  Was the encounter random or the careful orchestration for something darker?

  She resisted abating the tension, building at the bridge of her nose, with her gloved fingers. Someday, she wouldn’t see everything in two shades. Maybe color would fade back in and prove life was something other than one shadow after another.

  Detective Charleen Davis, her partner, stepped beside her. The back of one hand went to the younger detective’s mouth. The other rested on her stomach. Blonde hair was pulled in a tight ponytail. Green eyes traveled over the scene before them. Robinson’s CSU team had swarmed in, minutes after their arrival. Lit the place up brighter than high noon in the desert.

  The result was a very good view of a naked young girl who fit Kimberly’s general description. Red, wavy hair was pulled to perfection over one shoulder. Her naked body rested on top of an assortment of trash bags, rotting food and empty containers. Her head, on a black garbage bag as if it were a pillow. As if she’d been placed in such a way, next to the Jumpin’ Jack Bar dumpster, to bring about the impression of sleep.

  Her eyes were shut, long, dark lashes coming into contact with pale skin. Delicate hands rested over her breasts, one crossed over the other. Like a supermodel in a tasteful, yet nude photo shoot. The flesh below her arms, over her sternum, was split from the muscle. Words etched across it. A stark contrast to the jerky hatred over Jonas’ flesh.

  Had to be postmortem. Not a drop of blood oozed from the neat, block letters.

  Try Again.

  A message for the girl or...

  “What’s with Mr. Hunk-of-Love?”

  “What?” Amanda looked up. Followed Davis’ gaze to where Robinson stood, his back toward them. He and Captain Dentzen looked deep in a serious conversation. Nothing new, there, but Robinson still had a relaxed air about him. As if everything in the world would eventually work out. Even after the last twelve hours of complete chaos.

  Pulling off cool-with-life, in any circumstance, should’ve been somewhere in his mile-long name. Not in an I’m-perfect way, but one that said he understood everything inside your mind. Your heart. Felt it and embodied it as if your feelings were his. Would embrace it, if you let him.

  “Haven’t seen you two in the same airspace in months. Suddenly, you show up together. Like nothing has changed. Did I miss the memo or something?” As if reading a headline, flashing over the monitors in Time Square, she moved her hand in a horizontal line. “Super-star duo reunites over tragic death.”

  Amanda shook her head. “That’s morbid.” Nothing had changed. Not in the sense Davis referred to. Absence made the heart fonder, for sure. It also didn’t keep memories as sweet. Proved being in his company was better than any recollection. They didn’t need to mangle something so simple.

  And yet, the desire was right there. Ready to naysay all the reasons their relationship was doomed. Relationship. As if his presence at her apartment this morning meant anything other than the obvious. He wanted her expertise. Didn’t mean he wanted anything else.

  Keep telling yourself that.

  He wasn’t wrong about things between them being complicated.

  Right now, a few girls needed their attention. Amanda flexed her left hand inside her latex gloves. Her ring finger throbbed. On the ride over, in Robinson’s SUV, she’d tried to yank it off her finger, all while trying not to fall into old habits with the man next to her.

  Without success on either account.

  Let’s face it. You were a goner long before he showed up, tonight.

  At this rate, she’d be in the ER having the thing cut off as soon as she was done here. And then spill her guts to the man who’d never stopped being her best friend.

  Complicated didn’t cover this.

  Davis crouched near the girl, across from Amanda. “Just elope, already. Who cares what his sister thinks. She doesn’t have to be married to you.”

  Normal dislike, she could handle, but Lilly’s anger was justified. After an accident had taken her unborn child, she’d lain in a bed she hadn’t
needed due to unauthorized drugs she’d been given by a conscienceless woman. Had it never happened—had Amanda and Robinson never come into contact with one another at all—Lilly’s life would be completely different.

  So, sorry-your-family-is-practically-gone-but-we’re-gonna-elope wouldn’t work. Ever.

  “You only live once,” Davis said.

  A year ago, the other woman wouldn’t have said more than two words to Amanda. Would have handled operations in the third precinct with silent efficiency. In everyone’s business, but out of the way. “You move up to detective and suddenly feel the need to have an opinion on my love life?”

  The blonde palpated the skin near their vic’s rib cage. It didn’t move. “I’ve always had opinions. Nobody ever asked about them. And you can’t call pining after could-have-been a love life. At some point that crosses into creepy.” She sucked a breath through clenched teeth. Her lips were a pale shade.

  So much for keeping things under the radar. “If you’re gonna upchuck, hit the bushes, Davis. Don’t ruin my crime scene.”

  She closed her eyes. Wavered on her hunches. “Don’t say that word and I’ll be okay.”

  Amanda patted the lettering. What kind of person carved into another human without thought to the pain they might feel? Rigor Mortis had tightened all the muscles and ligaments. Unusual coldness bit through her gloves.

  Strange.

  Blisters had formed on part of one of the girl’s fingers. The same fluid-filled sacks were evident on her feet, the only obvious blemish on the girl.

  “You pregnant, Davis?”

  She shook her head. “There are other reasons one would want to...”

  “Upchuck.”

  Davis opened her eyes. Sweat dotted her upper lip. “I take back every nice thing I’ve said about you. Ever. You’re evil.”

  “No.” A shadow fell over them. “She’s just sassy. Trust me, it’s best this way.” Robinson sent a wink in Amanda’s direction.

  Everything inside her stilled. And then whirled to life with a steady charge of electricity. Had she been holding a lightbulb, the incandescent glow might have outshone the wattage around them.

  Not even twenty-four hours and he’d hopped back into his charming Special Agent in Charge persona as if they’d merely been apart due to work. Not divided by circumstances they couldn’t change.

  Maybe that was best.

  Captain Dentzen shifted at his side, arms across his chest. A stern gaze touched Davis’ back and then rested on Amanda.

  She was never quite sure what to make of him. Was he waiting for her to screw up or merely offering support? A passive expression didn’t give much of an indication. His words were even less forthcoming. It would be easier to deal with if she’d not seen the opposite end of the spectrum. Complete trust and faith.

  The person he often called on first. Counted on, in a bind.

  And if he had any of the opposite notion floating around his brain, why keep her around? Why risk his precinct, his life and his livelihood over it?

  “What have we got, detectives?” Irritation whispered along each syllable, as if he wouldn’t be surprised to find they’d made a colossal misstep he’d have to undo.

  The emotion jumped over Amanda and grasped the edge of her shoulders like a younger sibling who didn’t know how to quit while they were ahead. She swallowed it back. It wasn’t new. And the only way to get to the goal was through the fire.

  And if it took years? You grabbed gear and tried to put out the flames as quickly as possible. Salvage what remained.

  She fixated on the sad loss of life on the ground in front of her. “DOA. I’d say between eight to twelve hours. Though, I don’t think she’s been in this area long. Not a single bug on the outside of her body. There’s blood pooling on the backs of her thighs, suggesting she died in this position.”

  Robinson crouched near the body, opposite her. The teasing glint had left his face, seriousness blanketing his features as he scanned the young girl.

  Amanda touched an eyelid. “I think our guy glued her eyes shut. The carving on her sternum suggests someone took care with the message.”

  Which begged the question: Why place her outside the Jumpin’ Jack Bar? In a relatively decent neighborhood filled with boisterous nightlife. And the high risk of getting caught.

  A part of the allure? Or the workings of someone this side of sick, the potential for discovery a small blip on invincibility radar?

  Robinson cleared his throat. Flicked his eyes toward her boss, who stood, impatience written over his features.

  Had she been lost in thought that long?

  “We’ll search the database for any other similar cases. Have already started canvasing the area. The owners of the businesses, here, are working on getting us their camera feed. Tonight.” She gave a harsh swallow. “The parents have been called in for a positive I.D. Should be here in under two hours.”

  “Good. Meet them at the morgue, Nettles. And let me know what you find.” Dentzen’s gaze switched to the woman across from her. “Go home, Davis. Nobody wants the stomach flu.”

  Davis’ green eyes stared straight ahead. More sweat popped up on her brow. “I’m fine.”

  “If you get any of my other officers or detectives sick, I’m gonna be pretty unhappy.”

  “Nettles and I aren’t swapping spit.” The words came out in a harsh heap. “She’ll be fine.”

  Dentzen’s lips pressed into a thin line. One shoe tapped the pavement. Robinson shot Amanda a what’s-this look.

  She shrugged. Heck if she knew. Davis’ feisty side was rare and new. At another point in time, she might have cheered on this new, spicy persona. Right now, judging from the severe frown on Dentzen’s face, he didn’t find any part of Davis amusing.

  “By the sound of things, you’ve picked up some Nettles-esque lip. The last thing I need is the two of you giving me a hard time with your flights of fancy. Go. Home.”

  What? What did he mean by two of them? She’d harassed him a time or two. Worked to get him to see her point of view, but never over unwarranted evidence. Or childish desires.

  The other woman didn’t make eye contact. Tore off her gloves and stood. Mumbled something under her breath as she left the scene.

  It fit the mood for the entire day. Had her wishing she could do the same.

  Captain Dentzen watched Davis’ retreat and then refocused on Amanda. His gaze pinned her to the spot. “We’ve got a briefing at eight tomorrow morning, Nettles. I want you in my office at seven.” The stern quality to his voice set her teeth on edge.

  A heavy weight fell into her stomach. “Is there a problem, sir?”

  “My office. Seven. Good night, Detective.” He turned from them and made his way through the alley and to his vehicle, parked at the curb.

  After all this time, would he dismiss her?

  Robinson pulled out a Maglite. Shined it near the girl’s eyelids. “Let the techs have a look so we can get her to the lab before Mom and Dad arrive. Good call on the adhesive. Something is holding her eyes together.”

  Amanda tried to shake off the image of Dentzen’s clenched jaw and tense face. She had a job to do. The second guessing was getting old. “Think you could make a spot for a new agent in the office?”

  Robinson flicked his flashlight out. Stuffed it in his pocket and stood. “Dentzen isn’t stupid enough to let you go twice. He’s being cautious, because he has to.”

  She followed suit. “Would it kill you to dress up the truth a little, every once in a while?”

  A grin took over his handsome face, but didn’t reach his eyes. “You’d hate it.”

  Touché. “So, that’s a no? Some faith you got there, pal.”

  His gaze flicked to their surroundings and then jumped back, a gleam present. “Don’t tempt me to demote someone, Nettles.”

  Like he’d ever follow through. His team was tight-knit and supremely loyal. A great reflection of their leadership. And while she might enjoy the added freedo
m, the FBI could offer, it wasn’t where she wanted to be.

  Two years ago she could have wholeheartedly said CMPD was it for her. It didn’t get much better than protecting the area she’d grown up in. Making sure it stayed safe for future generations.

  Deep down she still embodied the general idea on Charlotte’s safekeeping, but did she want what came with it?

  She cleared her throat. “Depending on how long she’s been dead, it’s unlikely the men who attacked Jonas this morning are the same as the person or people who are abducting fourteen-year-olds from their homes.”

  “I’m not taking any chances.” He waved one of the techs over. Removed his gloves.

  A flash of something caught her eye, between their victim’s thumb and forefinger on her right hand. “Wait.” She crouched near the body again. “Hand me your Maglite.”

  Robinson placed the flashlight in her palm, light at the ready. A metal cylinder stabbed between the ribs on the left side of the girl’s body, the end barely noticeable through the skin. A fine ring of blood circled the needle as if it had been jabbed into her heart and then broken off with precision. Or cut.

  Judging from the circumference and thickness of the metal, this was no little needle. Not something you’d find at the drug store. Or inserted quickly on a struggling victim.

  “Probable cause of death?” He rubbed a hand over the side of his chin, jaw flexing in the process. Those blue-green eyes didn’t leave the lettering on the girl’s body. And he’d gone still. “I can’t even stand getting numb at the dentist.”

  Right. The dentist.

  In all their years working together, she’d never seen him physically respond to a crime scene. The gruesome ones bothered him, but he’d gotten good at hiding it while on scene. A joke. Some ribbing.

  Never silence.

  While his professionalism was mostly intact, tonight, she could only imagine where his thoughts were headed. Because hers were already there. Replace this girl with Ariana.