On hands and knees, she crawled toward the door. When she reached it, she stood. Hazarded a glance back toward the building. Half expected Zander to still be looking in her direction.
No one stood at the window. She could make out his figure deeper in the room. She lifted the latching handle. It gave the same whine.
Amanda froze. Didn’t see anyone rushing toward her.
Rip the band-aid off, Nettles.
The words came to her in Robinson’s snappy tone. Had her complying before she could change her mind. Find a way to get to a phone and call for backup.
Time they didn’t have.
Rows of packaged meat stared at her as a rush of arctic cold flowed over her skin.
No bodies. She peek farther inside. One row followed the length of the vehicle, the others perpendicular.
Not even a hint of anything sinister.
“You mind shutting that door before my meat thaws.” Zander’s voice was smooth and calm. And maybe a tinge annoyed. As if she’d interrupted him during a five-course meal.
She whirled toward him, gun aimed. “Not gonna happen. Too cold in there, Dana.”
He neared with a tray holding the package she’d seen earlier. A fresh pair of gloves. He pulled the opposite door open and hauled himself inside. Stashed the tray on top of the nearest row of pork and beef. “That guy is gone, detective. And I’d appreciate if you didn’t say the name again.” His lips formed a firm line. “My parents’ killer is still out there.”
Had Beth been wrong about Zander’s cryptic words this morning? Had she led Amanda here for another purpose?
Used a lingering connection somewhere and orchestrated this entire day?
No. Beth’s concern coming through the speakers of Robinson’s vehicle had been genuine. Not the smoke screen she’d used so well in the past.
Fool me once…
“Mind if I come up, Zander?”
His back was toward her as he fiddled with a few packages of his product. “Are you planning on pointing that gun at me all day?”
Amanda lowered it, but didn’t holster it. Didn’t move toward the interior either. He turned. Flashed a smile she’d seen in the courtroom, innumerous times. “I should apologize for this morning. Wasn’t on my best behavior.”
Right.
The edge of a fresh wound peeked out from under his right sleeve. He offered her a hand. The nail of his pinky was missing.
Something sick gathered in her stomach.
His eyes flicked to hers. “Nothing personal, right?”
She raised her gun. Centered it on him. “Hands behind your head, Singleton.”
Something in his face shifted. He kicked out toward her gun. Amanda moved out of harm’s way. Tried grabbing for his other leg. Missed.
Aimed a round.
He dodged behind the first row of food. Grabbed a white package of frozen meat. Threw it in her direction. It clipped the corner of her shoulder.
Spread agonizing pins and needles through her body.
Amanda scrambled into the cargo bay, mirrored his movements. Ignored the erratic beat of her heart. Focused on the anger raging through her system.
“And here I’d banked on Beth keeping my little secret. Turns out she’s as soft-hearted as ever.” He shoved a stack of meat over.
Amanda jumped against the far wall. White packages littered the area. He charged toward her, grabbed her injured, left arm and twisted.
Pain exploded through her body as if her flesh was being torn open all over again. Had her fighting for freedom and stuck in one place all at once. One well-aimed shove had her pinned against the wall. The force of it rattled the storage compartment. Knocked her head against something solid.
An explosion of bright light ripped through her head faster than a locomotive on speed. The pan he’d placed on top, clattered to the ground. And skidded to a stop farther inside the vehicle.
She fought a wave of nausea. Worked to raise the Ruger against his chest. He grabbed that arm. Cuffed her wrist and pinned it above her head. Squeezed until she couldn’t feel her fingers. And then kept going.
Sweat dotted her lip. She refused to drop the weapon. “Where are those girls?”
He shook his head, a sick smile on his face. “I know who you’re looking for, Detective.” He pressed his weight against her. The shelving pressed into her back. Stole the air from her lungs.
His breath roved across her cheek in terrifying waves.
The edge of something pink caught her eye, near the pan. A hand peeked out from a row. It flinched.
“You look so much like her, Nettles. Smell like her, too.” His eyes dipped to their pressed bodies.
The nausea threatened to choke her. If she could move a leg, she’d knee his manhood right into a set of ovaries. They were both pinned with little give. “Touch me and die, Singleton.”
He laughed. “Beth was an easy lay. So interested in pleasing someone. And her daughter got no better. A quick tryst in the woods, here. By an inexperienced boy not interested in her tearful pleas for him to stop.”
Amanda slammed her eyes shut. No. “So, when the officials questioned you about Paige’s disappearance six months ago, you lied.”
“It’s hard to remember all those youthful faces.”
Amanda opened her eyes. Bashed her forehead into his. Ignored the intense burst of agony reviving in her skull.
A string of curses rang out. He didn’t release her, but gripped her wrists harder. The hand holding the Ruger opened of its own will. The weapon hit the ground with a heavy thunk and slid outside the cargo area.
As if he were having trouble reigning in the pain, an angry breath came through clenched teeth. And then he was a flurry of movement. He moved both wrists to one hand. Sent a fist toward her ribs.
Amanda struggled against his hold. Ended up shoved tighter against the shelving as his hand collided with her body. And her organs jerked around inside her skeleton. A burst of hot needles jabbed her organs
She clamped her lips shut. Refused to give him the satisfaction of hearing her scream. Waded through the high-pitched buzz of injury.
You gotta think, Nettles.
His fingers moved between them. Worked the button on her pants. Her heart landed, in a quivering mess, somewhere at her feet.
She was going to die, right here. Be raped and mutilated by a man society deemed upstanding. And all of this would have been for nothing.
No. She wouldn’t. She wouldn’t let it happen. Wouldn’t give up and let numbness take over. She might die, but at least she’d die trying.
Amanda shifted a leg upward. Kept a picture of Robinson in her mind. Smiling. Alive.
He shook her against her prison. Faced her with eyes that showed nothing.
The place his soul should have resided was empty. A blankness that could swallow a man or woman whole. And then keep going for the fun of it.
“Go ahead, you sick bastard. Leave evidence behind.”
He didn’t slow. Started working on his own trousers. “You think this is my first rodeo? They’ll never find you, Nettles. They never would have found that cop, either. If a certain kid hadn’t interrupted me.”
A shot rang out. A spray of red splashed across her face as the side of Zander’s head exploded in a shower of gray matter. His body stilled. Started falling backward. He hit a stack of meat and crumpled, eyes unseeing.
Oh, God.
Davis stood at the entrance, Glock raised. “I told you I could help you. Nobody ever listens.”
Amanda’s entire body went slack. She slid to the floor. Couldn’t control a serious case of shaking.
Air. She needed air.
“Whoa. Okay.” Davis hopped into the cargo area. Crouched near her. “I know my entrance was stellar, but this is taking the response a bit far.”
Amanda sucked a breath inward. Blocked the sight of Zander’s body. “There’s someone in the back.” She nodded toward the hand that hadn’t moved again. Started a slow crawl to her feet. Sha
ky fingers attempted to right her clothing.
Siren’s pierced the air as Davis wandered toward the back. “Damn. There’s quite the set up back here. A surgical table. Sterile blades. Gauze. Makeup. A meat clever.” She crouched near the person on the ground. “It’s like a morgue and a funeral home smashed together within a slaughter house.”
Please be Ariana. Please be okay.
The vibrations taking over Amanda’s body made walking difficult. Even without the small earthquake, she wasn’t sure she could move one more step. Couldn’t take the sight of Ariana—or any girl—dead. “Davis, is it…”
The other detective glance up. Then lifted a girl in her arms. Dark hair peeked out from around the rows of meat. The red shirt and jeans the teen had been wearing the day before, covered her frame.
“She’s alive.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
THIS WAS IT.
They were taping up the IV. Plugging in heart monitors and fastening restraints. In less than an hour they’d open the curtains leading to the viewing room and Beth would cease to exist.
She could hear the din of voices beyond where she lay. Imagined the throng of people waiting to see her demise. Gossiping about the end. How she deserved what was coming.
And then some.
She couldn’t disagree with them. It didn’t mean she wanted to die. Or that she was ready for the infinite nothingness.
She stared at the fluorescent lights above. Tried to conjure a warm beach. A handsome man.
A shadow popped into her view.
“Thought you might want to know everyone is on the mend in Charlotte.” Dexter’s voice was deep and soothing as ever.
Beth closed her eyes against an onslaught of emotion. Tried not to curl up with the thought of him saying other things. Intimate things. “That’s great.” Her voice was a rasp.
A pair of violet eyes, attached to a tall man, crowded her beach. A smiling Chaplin awaited her near the surf. And then it clouded over with explosions and panic.
And he was dying her arms, a mass of blood and shrapnel. And there was nothing she could do to stop the hemorrhaging.
“You did a good thing last week.”
“Good things don’t get you into heaven, isn’t that right Chaplin?”
“If you know that, why’d you help Amanda? Why not just leave her?”
“Turns out I’m only mostly heartless and selfish.”
A laugh bounced around the room. Her eyes sprang open and centered on him. How could he laugh? At all. Ever. “How can you sit here with me?”
He sobered. “This is what I do.”
“Because you have to?”
“Because I don’t have any other options.”
What had she expected? That through it all he found her to be a little irresistible? This wasn’t a fairytale, where the prince forgave the evil beauty. Found something worthy of saving and showed her how to view the world in a different manner.
The truth of it stung something deep.
He pulled up a chair. “I gave myself up a long time ago, Beth.”
“Sounds like a devil’s bargain.” She swallowed back a wave of regret. “Hope the girl was worth it.”
Another short chuckle came from his lips. “It’s a God bargain—although the bargaining was on his end, while I walked around doing whatever I wanted.”
“I doubt that.” No way Dexter had run around causing mayhem. Not even in a basic form. “You’ve probably never even stepped on an ant.”
“Have I ever lied to you?”
Hmm… “Have you ever hated me?”
“Yes.”
“Wanted to repay me in kind?”
His gaze stayed steady. “Yes.”
She lifted her head off the table. “Then how can you sit here? Why not leave me to rot in the filth of my decisions?”
“Because I’ve forgiven you.”
She laid back. Concentrated on a speck in the far corner of the ceiling. “You know my story and you pity me. Pity and forgiveness aren’t even related.”
“It’s hard to pity someone as smart as you are. You made choices. You’re still making them.”
There’s still hope.
She wasn’t naive enough to believe it. Was she? “If you help someone see the light, is there a bonus in heaven for you?”
A soft smile played around his lips as he shook his head.
“There’s one for me.” The female voice made Beth strain toward the door. Amanda stood there. A fading bruise covered one side of her face. A few scrapes marred the surface, but appeared to be healing.
Baker Jackson stood behind her. For once, his hair wasn’t in super mold mode. Didn’t look like he had any product in it at all. A few staples peaked out from his hairline. As if he wanted to be anywhere but here, a frown covered his face.
“W-what are you guys doing here?”
“We came to say goodbye.”
Beth tracked their slow movements. The way Amanda didn’t let go of her husband’s hand. As if she feared he might fade away, otherwise. Dexter stood up and offered his chair. “You should be resting, Baker Jackson.”
He took his time sitting. “And you should shut up, Dex.”
Amanda braced her hands on the back of the chair. “He’s milking it.”
“I’d get up, but I’m a little busy.” Beth rose a hand in a wave. “How’s the head?”
“Fantastic.”
“Looks like it.” A nervous tingle went through her body. “I’m surprised they let you in here.”
A sad smile touched her sister’s face. She stepped forward. “I can’t watch. Not from either side. I can’t do it. I’m not built like that. And if I had my way, they’d give you life without parole instead of this.” She pointed to the IV.
“You mean you don’t want to see justice served?”
Wet eyes connected with hers. “Not this way.”
“That makes two of us, at least.” She shifted. Didn’t know what to do with the information. “You wouldn’t feel that way if the last few days hadn’t happened.”
“Hard to know now, Beth.”
Fair enough. “Heard Ariana made a full recovery. How’s Paige?”
A shadow touched Amanda’s face.
“Don’t sugar coat it, Amanda.”
Her gaze shifted to something out of Beth’s sight. Then bounced back. “You really want to know?”
“I wouldn’t have asked otherwise.”
“She’s heavily pregnant.”
“What?” She lifted her head again. Glanced at everyone in the room. Came back to Amanda. “She’s thirteen.”
The other woman gave a slow nod. “Admitted to being raped by Sam Richardson’s kid. Had Zander Singleton reported the video of it happening, as it should have been, both her adoptive parents might still be alive. Had Sam been honest, we might have found those other girls sooner.”
Something heavy fell into her stomach. She’d seen the news. Knew authorities had found traces of human DNA in some of the meat housed within the Carter’s Meats warehouse near Baker Jackson’s house. “What will happen to her?”
“There isn’t any extended family. So, she’s staying with us.”
The thought of her child—even one she didn’t know—in foster care sent a wave of anxiety through her tissues.
A hand found hers. Squeezed. A warm sensation flooded her system. Foreign. She waited for one of the CO’s to bark about no-contact rules.
It didn’t happen. She found her fingers tightening in response.
“I’m not going to let the state take her. Not if I can help it. Besides, she and Ariana are sort of connected at the hip right now.”
A watermelon-sized lump lodged in her throat. “That’s…”
“The right thing to do.”
“It’s time.” The warden walked into the room. His voice held annoyance.
Anxiety trickled back in. If she begged Amanda to stay, she would. She knew that better than when her next heartbeat would come.
> The decision would destroy Amanda. Make the wound fester for far longer than it needed to. She clamped her lips shut. Gave a nod.
She’d already been given more than she deserved.
“Thank you. Had you not walked Paige through that head wound, I…I won’t let anything happen to her.”
Beth didn’t doubt it. “Try not to attract any more crazies, Amanda. It’s not healthy.”
And then it was time. The curtains went back. Dexter said a prayer she couldn’t concentrate on, but the words touched something within her.
And then he stepped out of sight.
And even though the room was full of medical professionals, she was alone.
Save for a gentle whispering…
Dear Reader,
I cannot express how truly grateful I am that you’ve taken the time to read Aftermath. My journey, in writing it, took me down a few winding paths, where I too, found myself at the same crossroads my characters faced.
Well, maybe not exactly the same. Relative, for sure.
When my characters began kicking my shins over the general themes in this novel, I had a far different vision for it. I was nervous about bringing back the Amanda/Robinson duo. Wasn’t sure I could improve upon their electrifying chemistry in Disconnect. The pair proved me wrong on several levels.
First, they reminded me that they run the show and I am, merely, their puppet. Second, this was their story to tell and I better pick myself up by my bootstraps and stop pissing and moaning over the progression of events (and for the love of God, stop threatening to throw us away!).
Somewhere along the way, I forgot about how their turn of events was supposed to play out and started enjoying the story they had to tell. The fire-cracker chemistry that burned brighter than their initial story, was deeper and had more meaning.
This story is one of ultimate redemption. From all angles. Sins big and small. Sometimes, from external sources. Sometimes, ourselves.
The stone is in our hands. We can throw it. Or we can put it down. Open our hearts and help someone else build upon it.
I hope you enjoyed Amanda and Robinson’s ride.
To stay up-to-date with my characters and upcoming books, sign up for my newsletter. Follow me on Facebook or Twitter. Pin some of my novels or characters on Pinterest.
Aftermath Page 36