Beth stopped in front of him, her gaze a firm probing, now. “The girl is a message. One he’ll keep sending over and over.”
While everything inside Robinson begged him to flay this woman in a way she’d never forget, he held back. Tucked the sneak-thief of anger to the side. “How do you figure?”
“In nineteen-eighty-seven, a friend went missing in broad daylight. No evidence of foul play. Recent trouble in school. Disciplinary action taken. So, the cops ruled the case a runaway. Shuffled it along.”
He knew all of this already and then some. Details that had come to him little more than thirty minutes ago. Dana Carter had never been missing, but had gone into WITSEC fifteen years ago.
The real question the Marshals couldn’t answer was why. Even if the kid had witnessed his parent’s murder, it was hardly Witness Protection worthy.
And when paperwork on a juvenile, without living relatives, should have been kept up to date and secure, neither of those things had happened. They didn’t even have a current name.
And the only other person who might know the answer was dead.
“Larry Catsky ever share any of his case details with you, Beth?”
The expression on her face melted away to nothing. “Don’t bring her back here, Baker Jackson. I won’t be nice next time.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
SHE WASN’T SUPPOSED to go anywhere alone.
Definitely, not outside. Not in the middle of the Bening yard. Not in broad daylight, much less at sunset. And the time of long shadows and fuzzy darkness.
After the last week, she might be stir-crazy, bored and tired of both Uncle Robbie and her mom pestering her for details she didn’t have, but she wasn’t stupid.
Didn’t plan to venture off the well-maintained lawn. Or near the edge of the dense tree line. Or past the seen-better-days swing set she’d claimed an old swing on. It sat twenty feet from the kitchen window, in plain sight should anybody venture by.
She had another ten minutes before anyone missed her. And with the way her mom was on sudden lock-down patrol, maybe less.
Good thing Agent Saragosa had left the front door unlatched, after bringing in a bag of supplies. Otherwise, she wouldn’t have made it this far without the creepiness of the monitoring system intruding in on her plans.
For fresh air. A moment alone. To forget the silent agony on Jonas’ face as her mom tended to his wounds.
Earlier in the day, she’d been playing an aimless rift on her guitar, wishing she had some of her other equipment, when Jonas had asked her to play for him.
While he’d put up a good front, it hadn’t helped the glazed look of pain in his eyes. Nor the frustration riding on her mother’s shoulders. The silence permeating every molecule in the house.
A flash of something red caught her eye near the rear of the detached garage. A blip of something against the setting sun.
Her heart picked up speed. A blink brought back nothing suspicious. Only the wind whirling the tops of the trees and the tall grass near the edge of the woods.
She stood and headed toward the house.
Another flash. A muffled cry.
What the heck? Even as her mind screamed the opposite, she changed course. She could take a look, but keep her distance. Ariana hopped the white picket fence and made it to the side of the garage before slowing her footsteps.
She avoided the rocks lining the area right next to the building and, instead, walked a path of well-worn gravel, leading to the access door, at the end of the garage.
Another barely audible cry made her jump. She tiptoed forward.
A figure in a hooded red cape, similar to that of Little Red Riding Hood, knelt on the ground. Slender hands used, what looked like a rusted metal file, on a piece of plastic at one ankle.
A few tracks of blood raced toward the bottom of a near-black foot.
The snap of a twig reverberated in the silence.
Ariana froze, mid-step.
A sharp intake of breath brought a dirty, gaunt face and wide, brown eyes into view. The hood fell from long brown hair.
Her heart wasn’t beating faster now, it was vibrating her whole body. Sending bouts of shaking to her knees.
She couldn’t be seeing what she thought… “Paige?”
Those eyes regarded Ariana as if she’d never seen her before. She stood, slow and cautious, the swell of something rounding the cape near her abdomen.
Her gaze flicked to the house and then back. “No.” She shook her head. Horror crossed over already surprised features. “No one’s supposed to live here.”
The metal in her hands, hit the ground. And then, she was running toward the woods, the red cape flapping behind her like a flag.
“Wait.” Ariana rushed to catch up. “What do you mean?”
Paige dashed on a path leading left. Leaves and foliage covered most of it and the one leading in the opposite direction. Both looked unused in the last one-hundred years. So, where had she come from?
“Everyone is looking for you. Where have you been?”
“Don’t follow me.” The words drifted backward.
What? Ariana hurried to catch up.
Paige dashed through a thick grouping of trees, batting the branches out of the way as she went. The edge of one snapped back and caught the corner of Ariana’s cheek.
Pain cut through her head. She stopped. Sucked in a breath and pressed a hand to the area. Brought back a bit of blood. It throbbed almost as bad as the initial trauma last week.
The other teen moved forward as if she didn’t have someone trying to get her attention. Didn’t even look back as she dashed away from the Bening house.
Almost as if she were circling back.
Beyond dense foliage and tall oaks, the white, three-story home was still visible, to her left. If she stopped to get one of the agents, Paige might be gone for good. And the light was fading fast, now.
A bug buzzed past her ear. Ariana swatted it away. Retraced the path, keeping the red cape in sight as she mirrored her classmate’s steps across the wooded area. There was a stream that bisected the woods, near the road. It circled in an S-shape some thirty feet behind the other girl, before tapering to a trickle somewhere closer to the heart of Charlotte.
“You don’t have to run, Paige.” She cut in a bit, dodging a low hanging, half-dead tree. Tried to move closer as if the other girl were a scared mouse. “I can help you.”
She stopped, her back toward Ariana, the cape swirling around her body.
Ariana did likewise. Maybe she’d said the right thing this time. They could get out of here. Uncle Robbie would be home soon and would know what to do.
Her classmate turned full circle, placed a hand on the swell of her stomach. Then she headed toward Ariana, determination splashed across her face.
Once she neared, Paige grasped Ariana’s upper arm. Her fingers bit into the flesh, there, while tugging her toward the opening of the forest.
“What are you doing?”
“Shh.” Her eyes darted around them. A panicked glance backward halted their progress. “Don’t move.” The words were a bare whisper as Paige released her and turned, full-circle, until she was standing beside Ariana once again.
“Your uncle is a cop, right?”
“Yeah. He can help you. If you, you know, need help.” The other girl’s hair was matted in places. Dirt caked an outline around her fingernails. The only thing cleaner was the cape she wore. And if she’d been hiding, why pick red? “Where have you been, Paige?”
A hand darted out and gripped Ariana’s wrist. White teeth flashed as she nibbled her dry and cracked bottom lip. She shook her head. “I don’t know how this part works.”
The whole-body pounding was back. “What?”
A rustle came from behind them.
“Don’t scream, Ariana. It’ll make it worse.”
___
“I’M GIVING YOU the facts. You don’t like it? Not my problem.”
From the head o
f the table, in the conference room of the Third Precinct, Robinson remained quiet. Sat back and affected serenity he hadn’t had in too long a time to bother recounting. Resting an elbow on his armrest, he pressed the edge of his fisted hand against his lips.
Three seats down, Amanda gathered paperwork from the conference room table as if Brink’s words didn’t bother her and she had nowhere pressing to go. As if they didn’t have two murders to solve, Kate’s disappearance to decipher and a healing SBI agent to protect.
“I never said anything about my feelings on the matter. I asked if the code I gave you translates into anything.”
Brink straightened from where he’d been leaning on the back of the nearest chair. “It’s a hash. Computer miners solve these—we’ll call them math problems—with software, in a block chain, where cheating isn’t possible and proving your work is required. Don’t solve the equation quickly enough and you, and anyone building on top of your block, will have to start over. It’s part of an online currency system that’s heating up quickly.”
“Probably not something anyone would use to send a message?”
Brink crossed his arms, but used one hand to rub his jaw before lowering it across his chest. “How does it relate to this case?”
It didn’t. They all knew that, only Brink didn’t know why. And if he didn’t know the exact reason he couldn’t go cry wolf to Dentzen. Something he’d been trying to do all through their conference.
It hadn’t gone unnoticed by Amanda’s boss, but he hadn’t commented on it, nor the disrespectful words disguised as good-natured ribbing from Brink’s cohorts.
It had taken everything inside Robinson not to step in and blast them all to regions forgotten. In the end, it wouldn’t help Amanda and would only perpetuate the rumor mill, so he’d held his tongue.
Still couldn’t risk moving.
“I’m guessing it’s unlikely.” Amanda gathered up the rest of her things and shoved them in a folder, her movements a little jerky. “Thanks for your help.” She brushed past Brink.
The other man turned with her movements. “I’d like an answer.”
Her gaze caught Robinson’s, for a moment, as she stopped at the entrance and braced a hand against the doorjamb. The internal struggle she battled, hopped from her eyes and into his veins, boiling his blood in seconds.
Dexter wasn’t wrong about anger sneaking up on a person. Right now, it had decided to dance on his gut with pointy cleats. Had been there since their prison visit, yesterday.
She glanced back at Brink. “And I’d like a Lamborghini. Can’t win them all.” And then she exited.
Brink tracked her progress around the side of the conference room and out of sight. Then made a show of stacking his notes. His face had turned a shade darker. And he worked his jaw as if mulling over the perfect comeback, even though Amanda was long gone.
Nobody understood how hard she’d been pushing herself, better than him. And because of people like Brink, who only saw what they wanted. A sad but true fact that encompassed his wife more now than ever.
Robinson couldn’t help himself, he gave a slow, mocking clap.
Brink glanced up. Looked around the room.
“How’s that working out for you, Archer? Playing king of the hill around your friends is easy, sticking with it at crunch time’s still a little iffy, huh?” He stood and gathered his notes. Moseyed over to Archer Brink as if he had nothing better to do. Stopped when he was within a foot of the other man. “When you’re done stroking your ego, remember we have a crime to solve.”
“You wouldn’t even be here without me.”
That boil turned to a raging inferno. He couldn’t afford to lose it. “Pull your head out, Brink, before you do something that gets someone killed.”
The detective looked him square in the eye, his lips pressed in a hateful line. “I’ll leave that to Nettles.”
The inferno reached a tipping point. Covered everything in red. One minute his hand was clenched by his side. The next slammed against Brink’s nose with a sick crunch.
The other man’s hand went to his face, he stumbled back, got hung up on the chair Amanda hadn’t pushed in and crashed to the floor. He dabbed at the area, and brought back a bit of blood.
Robinson grabbed the kleenex box on the table. Threw it to him. “The next time you say something like that about anybody, you better have hard evidence to back it up. Not slander hidden behind buddy-buddy barbs.” Then he followed the route Amanda had taken and exited the room.
He rounded the corner and nearly collided with Detective Davis. He steadied her with a hand on both shoulders. “You good?”
“Yeah. Sorry.” Her gaze flicked to the conference room and back. “Looks like I missed the action.”
Right, action. He dropped his hands. Glanced around the station. “Seen Amanda around?”
“No. I wanted to catch her before I left. Figured she was still in the conference room. So, did you punch Brink or did she?”
Robinson continued down the hall, toward the exit.
With a final backward glance, she followed alongside him. “Wish I could have seen it.” She punched in her code when they reached the security door. “Jared, Nettles come through here?”
The kid pointed to the front door. Robinson didn’t waste time heading out of the building. He scanned the street, but didn’t see his favorite detective anywhere. Had she up and left?
He headed toward his darkened SUV, parked next to Amanda’s Audi. The overhead light he’d parked under was out, so he couldn’t tell if Amanda was inside her vehicle or not.
“What’s so important, Davis?”
“Did some research on Camelia and Jerry Jurik. Turns out Jerry was in an automobile accident three months ago and there wasn’t much of the body left to identify. Not much of the car, either. Both the coroner and police reports speculated a heart attack might have been the cause.” She handed over a file. “Wrapped his truck around a tree. Single car accident off Highway 321 outside of Maiden. A curvy stretch of the 1005.”
He stopped. Faced Davis. “Out near Mountain Creek Nature Center?”
“Yeah. Turns out Camelia Jurik was out there the night before she died.”
___
AMANDA NEEDED TO focus. Stay the course and forget everything else. At least long enough to finish this case.
Then she could decide if she was as much a liability as everyone kept insisting, whether outright or semi-discreetly. And in the meantime, she’d play a little closer to the playground. Keep the teacher in her line of sight.
You’re flirting with that line, Detective.
Dentzen’s pre-meeting words reverberated in her ears, ten times louder than any drum. It had taken everything inside her not to respond with flippant regard.
Couldn’t he see the big picture?
Her shoes hit the pavement much harder than needed, as she marched from the precinct to her Audi, parked next to Robinson’s SUV.
She’d call him once she got on the road. He’d understand her need to get busy doing something—anything.
The need to forget their meeting.
She gripped her car keys.
Captain Dentzen hadn’t said much during it. Hadn’t even attempted to tone down the good ‘ol boy club going on in the conference room. He’d affected the calm manner he was known for. And all the while, next to him, Robinson’s face turned dark. More closed.
And she’d prayed the volcano would hold off another day, because if he lost it she might, too.
No might. She would. The simmer had been set last week, the pot about to burst through the roof in some comical cartoon caricature.
The end result would be anything but funny.
A scuffle of shoes caught her attention to her left. Five feet from her car, she stopped. Darkness was closing in the evening, in the hazy dusk that stuck lower to the ground, while the sky lit up in the final burst of oranges and reds.
The light above their vehicles was out, bathing the area in a
n eerie blackness. A sliver of panic slipped down her spine and nestled in deep. Around her, nothing moved. And the only sound was the sudden pound of her heart in her ears.
She took a step forward and reached for her phone.
Heard the scuffle again, as if someone were mirroring her moves across the distance, on the other side of Robinson’s vehicle. She bent to a crouch.
Came face-to-face with the naked body of a young girl. Shock blasted through her. She stumbled backward. The jangle of her keys, falling against the pavement, echoed between their vehicles.
Mother of…
Amanda’s heart tried to leap from her body. Settled for scrambling in the opposite direction of her movements—far away from the girl lying beside her driver’s side door, arms over her chest.
She flicked on her phone flashlight. Placed two fingers over the girl’s neck, near the long, dark hair draped over her shoulder. A chill nipped at her flesh, no heartbeat evident.
The lettering on her sternum was clear as a giant smoke screen in the sky.
Try Again.
This wasn’t happening.
A sparkle of something in the girl’s right hand, caught her attention. Had Amanda grabbing a pen and using it to fish the object—a chain—out.
A pair of dark dress shoes moved around Robinson’s vehicle, in a slow and calculated manner. Heel to toe. Repeat.
No way this guy was hanging around. He wouldn’t make it that easy.
She pocketed the chain and stood. Used one fluid motion to remove her Glock from its holster. Tiptoed to the edge of the SUV and peaked around it, gun raised.
Her light illuminated a small area in front of her and not much else.
The quick slap of shoes on pavement registered as a shadow of black rushed toward her. Slammed into her body and knocked the wind from her lungs, before she smashed into unforgiving ground. Saw a mirage of white as she struggled for a breath.
Her phone skittered across the blacktop, an almost far away noise. A fist met her temple. Pain exploded in her head. And brought stars to the shifting white in front of her eyes.
Another met her side. Spread a sharp sensation through her torso, to her heart. Had her trying to curl into a ball without success.
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