Aftermath

by Rachel Trautmiller

  What? Beth clamped her lips together and resisted checking for smirks on the CO’s faces. The swell of anger rising in her chest was familiar, but couldn’t find purchase over the shame doing battle.

  It wasn’t true. She hadn’t decided anything about love. It had never been present. Desiring something she’d never had was her definition of insanity. “Don’t go feeling sorry for me, Chaplin, over some words in a diary.”

  “Whatever you wrote there isn’t my business.”

  “You’d be the only one to think so.”

  He shook his head. “I don’t have any preconceived notions about your actions.”

  “By actions, you mean how I blew up all those buildings?”

  He flexed his jaw and took in a slow breath. “I believe you made conscience decisions and calculated the risks involved.”

  “Very clinical.” She opened a browser on the laptop. Was it his? And why not make her use the one in the corner? “What you’re saying is it’s not justifiable.”

  “Not even a little.”

  She glanced up at him. How was she supposed to compete with such honesty? She leaned closer. “You think I’m looking for absolution?”

  “No. That would require you to understand what you’ve done and how it affects others.”

  “You just said—”

  He held up a hand, his entire body tense. As if he were holding back an explosion of words and much more. “I said you calculated the risks.” He paused. “You never once thought of anyone outside of yourself or your pain.”

  Oh, check mate. “If you haven’t read the diary how would you know anything about my pain? We don’t sit around sipping tea while talking about our feelings.”

  “Remember having a loose baby tooth?”

  She sat back. Blinked.

  “You’d wiggle it around, even when it wasn’t quite ready. Your mom might have insisted you leave it alone and it would happen with time. But you kept on doing it, because it hurt so good.” This time he leaned closer, one arm braced on the table, now. The other extended toward her as he jabbed his index finger into the table, in front of her. “You destroyed all those lives to get to something you would have had anyway, if you’d have opened your eyes.”

  The swirling tornado was back, taking the house from above her. She clicked the keys, in front of her. Focused on bringing up a few news stories. Confirmed that there’d been two more bodies.

  “And you could still have it—the kind of love you’ve been looking for your entire life—if you accepted it.”

  Heard it all before. Jesus saves. God cares. So, where was he during her childhood? When Paige was taken from her. When she lost her second child? When her patients didn’t survive trauma? Not around. Not making sure she had the kind of love she was looking for.

  “And up until a few days ago I would have said you were a selfish coward.”

  Beth paused. She knew what came next. The tongue lashing wouldn’t even hurt. Even though she’d expected Dexter to be different, because he seemed that way. “Heard it.”

  “Why’d you jump across the table and stop Mrs. Vera from attacking me? It wasn’t a reflex. You thought about the dangers. You saw it happening. You could have let it. Maybe gained access to freedom, however limited.”

  I couldn’t stand to see you hurt.

  She clenched her hands and took a slow breath in. No. That wasn’t true. She’d reacted. Plain and simple. And Dexter could kiss off.

  “I did something nice. I’m pretty sure that and aiding the police with this investigation will magically poof me into heaven, right? Excuse me while I hurl.”

  “This investigation has no bearing on your future. Help or don’t. That’s on you. You can’t earn your way into heaven. You can’t erase any wrongs you’ve done. You have an opportunity. And you don’t deserve it. Nobody does.”

  “I’ve accepted the fiery pits of hell. I understand where my actions will take me. People understand that’s what will happen to me when they inject the drugs into my veins in a few days. Why would God be any different?”

  “Grace.”

  Now she’d heard it all. “Grace?”

  “Ariana Gabriel went missing yesterday. They found bloody handprints all over the scene. Early this morning they found a match for the DNA. It’s your daughter’s.”

  No. There wasn’t any way she was alive after all this time. This was a ploy. A way to ensure her compliance. Except the urgency radiating from him said otherwise. It mirrored the hope gushing through her body.

  She’d been taught not to trust feelings. Had learned it didn’t matter how hard she tried, there would never be a time she’d come out on top. There would always be a misstep. Always a punishment. And if she let her guard down, she’d pay.

  “You’re placing too much faith in what I know, Dexter.”

  “I’ll be the judge of that.”

  If she gave Dexter the information, he’d leave her be. She could forget about Paige and live out the remainder of her days in a slow, agonizing denial.

  “When Amanda brought in the photographs, I organized them by date and location.” She pulled up a map of North Carolina and turned the laptop so Dexter could see the screen. Pointed to Boone, Lenior, Statesville, Lattimore and Charlotte. “There’s no order to the places he’s taking these girls from, but it seems as if he’s circling around a point of origin.” And that was only a theory. “And if he’s taking them from several places, how does he get access? And why only leave the bodies in Charlotte? Why not spread them out? So you can believe one of two things, you’re working with somebody off their rocker and with no common sense or…”

  Dexter’s eyes leveled with her. “Someone very smart. And he’s sending a message.”

  “And perfected the craft, so he doesn’t fear capture any longer.”

  His gaze trapped her. “Or lives for the thrill of it.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

  “YOU CAN’T HOLD my client on murder charges. Walking in a parking lot isn’t against the law and is not a direct implication of guilt.” Zander Singleton folded his arms across his chest, outside of the interview room they’d situated Amanda’s attacker in an hour ago, when his lawyer had finally shown up.

  Even after close to twelve hours in lockup, Ernie Slate had said nothing as to why he’d been in the area, but had insisted over and over that he didn’t know anything about the girl. And at six in the morning, with no sleep and not enough coffee, Amanda was close to the breaking point.

  And she wasn’t buying any of this guy’s alibis, least of all the one for the day of Jonas’ attack. Especially, since they couldn’t locate the gentleman Ernie claimed he’d been with, at a cafe in downtown Charlotte.

  Thankfully, she’d convinced Robinson to go home for a shower and to re-review the tapes McKenna had of Ariana following a cloaked figure into the woods, less than twenty-four hours ago.

  “Maybe you missed this.” She pointed to her bandaged and throbbing arm and the bruise forming over her temple and right eye. “Last time I checked, assault of a police officer was a felony. Especially with a weapon and deadly intent.”

  From her peripheral vision, she watched Detective Davis approach. Ignored the hint of annoyance tugging on her gut. The woman had been dogging her heels ever since Camelia’s death.

  “My client maintains that he was defending himself. He saw the body and was seeking out help. Then he heard your approach and wasn’t sure of your intentions. You had a weapon and didn’t announce yourself.”

  A simmering emotion clawed up her throat. She’d done everything within protocol. And if she hadn’t announced herself soon enough, it was only because Ernie had attacked her before she could get two words out. “How’s it feel to know you help guilty criminals run free?”

  “It’s my job to defend the defenseless. Despite what you think I do all day, I have other clients to tend to, today.”

  A sour taste filled her mouth. “Your client isn’t leaving here, Singleton. And I don’t c
are if I have to question him until the end of time. I want answers.” She wanted Ariana back. In one piece and unharmed. Now. She turned away. Headed toward the interview room and the man currently cleaning his ear with his pinky finger, inside it.

  “Daddy’s not a judge in these parts anymore, Nettles. So good luck finding one willing to post an outrageous bail amount. Barring that, my client will walk later today.”

  She spun around. “Come again?”

  He placed a hand in one suit pocket. “How’s it feel to know your successes aren’t based on your ability at all, but on your name?”

  Her entire body sprung to life in a fiery rage. And then she was rushing toward him in an angry haze.

  Before she could reach the lawyer, Davis was in front of her, a brick wall with no give. Pushing her back as if she were a line-backer and not a woman, all of five-two. “Rope it in, Amanda.” Her voice was low. “It’s been a crappy day. Let’s not compound it.”

  Amanda straightened. Sucked in a breath that did little. She locked eyes with the red-haired lawyer and shook her head.

  “You’ve got a call on line one.”

  What? She focused on Davis. “I’m a little busy.”

  “It’s Dexter Knight. He said you would know what it’s about.”

  Her heart started pounding. He either had good news or none at all, but anything that would lead to Ariana was worth the risk. “You’re up, Davis.” Amanda pointed to the interview room with a fisted hand, thumb out. “I’ll check back with you in a few.”

  And then she sailed past them both and made it to her office. Picked up the phone and pressed it to her ear, but didn’t bother sitting. Wasn’t sure she could. “Detective Nettles speaking.”

  “How are Lilly and Baker Jackson holding up?” Genuine concern highlighted Dexter’s voice.

  The devastation on both their faces wouldn’t ever be erased. And there was nothing Amanda could do about it. A tremor started in her body, a pinch behind her eyes gaining a foothold. She swallowed it back. Flicked a gaze around the precinct. A few of her coworkers had started filtering in.

  “As well as can be expected.” She lowered to her chair. Scooted to the edge and couldn’t help the nervous beat of her foot against the tile. “I kicked Robinson out of here thirty minutes ago.”

  “Has anyone had any sleep?”

  She let out a scoff. “No. And that’s not likely to change, so I’m not wasting my breath.”

  “And what about you?”

  As if he were in the room, she shook her head. “What have you got for me, Dexter?”

  “You’ve got to pinpoint a location, Amanda. Some access this guy has to these kids. And he’d have to have an unlimited amount of it, no questions asked. I think you need to step back and ask where these kids have been in the last few months instead of days. Anything in common, they might have that wouldn’t be obvious, at first glance.”

  “Beth told you this?” Amanda grabbed the file. Flipped through the pages. Pulled out Kimberly, Tara, Denise, Kate and Paige. Added Ariana to her mental list.

  What had Ariana done in the last few months besides go to school? Wait for Lilly to come out of her trance? Work through Amanda leaving?

  “The general idea is hers. I expounded upon it a little.”

  Could Amanda trust it? She rested a bent elbow on the desk and threaded her fingers through her hair. “I know I asked for help, but I’m not sure where I should go with the information. If I should put much stock in it.”

  The amount of obvious distress in her voice had her wincing.

  “It’s a risk you may need to take.”

  And line it up next to all the others she’d given little thought to? Pray for the best? She pinched her eyes shut. Too many lives were riding on this. The situation needed to be carefully calculated.

  And they were out of time.

  “She’s got a vested interest.”

  Yeah. And it could go one of two ways. Dexter had to know that, too.

  A set of strong, warm hands found her shoulders and massaged. A spicy scent surrounded her. She looked over her shoulder. Met Robinson’s tired gaze. Judging from the pressed suit and restyled hair, he’d showered, but it hadn’t been more than hygienic.

  She moved her free hand atop his and squeezed.

  Then flipped through the pictures and details again. Read through the notes she’d jotted down. All three of their victim’s had been naked, had rice in their stomachs and not an ounce of any drug in their systems. They weren’t in the fetal position as happened with typical hypothermia victims.

  “Kate, Paige and Ariana all go to school together,” she said to Dexter. Or they had. And even if they took Kate’s disappearance out of the equation, the end result didn’t change.

  The picture in Ariana’s locker came to mind, at the nature center.

  It’s a trip half the schools in North Carolina go on.

  As a kid, she’d gone. So had Robinson. Jordan. McKenna. Sam Richardson.

  Beth.

  She stood. Gathered her papers and a pen. “I gotta go, Dexter. Do me a favor. Ask Beth about her experience at the Mountain Creek Nature Center.”

  ___

  WHAT CAN YOU tell me about Mountain Creek Nature Center?

  The words bounced around in Beth’s usually sharp mind, but her brainstorming session with Dexter, that morning, had taken all of her concentration and more.

  It had stolen the remaining sliver of her heart. Torn it into itty-bitty pieces, scattered on a floor filled with stomping boots. All of them oblivious to her struggle to find every last remaining speck.

  What could she tell a chaste Chaplin about a class field trip where she’d found first love? Not a whole lot. Then again, it wasn’t like he had a real high opinion of her, anyway. And Dana Carter was long gone, one of few bright spots in a dark past.

  “I’ve arranged one final appeal. Called in some favors.”

  Beth’s attention snapped back to the prison phone pressed to her ear. She sat straighter within the Central Prison, where she’d been moved to death watch. Thought about her lawyer on the other end, who rarely called. “I didn’t request or approve one.” Much like she hadn’t requested words spoken to him, in private, be released on the news.

  “You didn’t have to. It’s my job to make sure every avenue is crossed.”

  “And make every penny while I’m still alive.”

  “It’s for a good cause.” His voice sounded distant. As if he were only giving the conversation half his attention.

  “Why don’t you buy your wife some diamonds with it? Or your kids a flashy car?”

  “Something like that is already in the works.”

  “See you in hell, later.” Unless Dexter was right and she really did have an opportunity that required trusting in something that didn’t make a lot of sense and all of herself.

  Would it matter if there was very little left?

  She wedged the phone between her ear and shoulder. Fingered the taped picture of Paige. Had found it in her new cell and known who’d put it back together.

  Why bother?

  “I’ll let you know how it goes, Bethy-Beth.”

  She froze. The photo slipped from her grasp and landed on the floor. Only one person had ever called her that. “Dana?”

  Silence filled her head. She gripped the phone until it groaned in protest.

  “Better to go out with a bang.”

  The line went dead.

  She was imagining things. Had to be.

  “Time’s up. Let’s go.” A male CO she’d never seen before, approached. He stood six inches taller than her and had an expression that left no mistaking what he’d do if she crossed the line.

  Beth turned. Tried to stamp down the full-blown panic racing through her body. It didn’t make sense. Dana was dead. Sold on the black market. Murdered and buried in a grave no one would ever find. Not alive. Not her lawyer, saying nothing for the last year-and-a-half.

  “I got disconnected from my l
awyer. I need to call him back.”

  “Another day.”

  She stood. Brought to mind her lawyer’s angular features. Red hair. Green eyes. At fourteen, Dana had similar attributes, but darker hair. Hazel eyes.

  Nothing was right. Why would he wait? And how had she missed the most obvious evidence? “I don’t have many of those left. I need to speak to him. Now.”

  “You don’t make the rules around here, Markel.” The CO grabbed her arm. His fingers bit into her skin as he jerked her toward the opening of her room, which connected to the dayroom, the same as the seven identical cells surrounding it.

  If he stuck her in there, that would be the end of this day. No chance to figure this thing out. Or understand the need to do so, in the first place.

  “Wait.” She planted her feet. “You have to let me make a call.”

  “To your cell, Markel. Now.” He reached for his baton. Kept her in his line of sight, a bored curiosity covering his face.

  Could she get to the phone and make a call before she felt its abuse? Probably not.

  But she had to try. Had to pass this information along. She turned back toward the phone. Hadn’t taken a full step before the metal met the middle of her back. Sent pain like scattering cockroaches through her midsection.

  It brought her to her knees. Had her crumpling onto the hard, cold floor as she struggled for a breath. The CO brought his weapon downward. Beth’s hands went to her head, her body somehow tucking in a ball on reflex.

  She squeezed her eyes tight.

  Under the rug. It couldn’t hurt her.

  He hit the edge of her left shoulder. A flash of white appeared behind her eyelids, so intense she couldn’t think. Tears pricked at the back of her eyes.

  Don’t cry. Be strong.

  Soon, everything would be as it should.

  Another hit spread a blanket of numbness.

  “That’s enough.” The deep rumble of Dexter’s voice permeated everything. Brought a monsoon of pain along with it. “She’s not fighting back.”

  Why don’t you fight for the right things?

  “She’s being defiant and combative. Grounds for complete isolation.”