Aftermath (32 page)

The other woman heaved, again, but stuck her thumb in the air.

“Who’s there with you?” His voice came to her as if he were in a tunnel. Probably the stairs. The man hated elevators, too.

“Davis and Sandra. Davis is tossing her cookies in a bush.”

Amanda glanced at her leg. The hem of her dark dress pant leg was torn and bunched up. A rusted two-inch deck screw jutted out from her calf, at a thirty degree angle.

Holy mother of...

“Sandra? As in—”

“It’s a long story.” She forced herself to look away from the metal trapped in her leg. The trickle of blood oozing toward her ankle. Tried not to concentrate on it.

Her heart sped up, anyway. And her stomach swirled. “Just...got a glimpse of the body. Plan to get my supplies and get a start. I-I wanted to call you first.”

Silence stretch through the line. “This at the Bellvine address?”

“Mm-hmm.” Sudden burning pain hummed along her nerve endings, a flash fire in full-blown mode.

“And she just happened along? Not buying it.” He paused. A door slammed through the phone. “I’ll be there as soon as I can get the crew together. Think you can hold the wicked witch off for fifteen to twenty minutes?”

“Robbie.” Amanda threw her head back and glanced up at the remaining section of patio roof. “When you get here, I
’
m gonna need a favor.”

“Oh?” There was a hesitant smile in his voice, she might have enjoyed at another time. “This is a nice change.”

She wedged the phone between her ear and shoulder. And then bent toward her injured right leg. Wrapped the hem of her pants away from her skin with shaky hands. Another fine dribble of blood headed downward. The screw broke the skin of her calf and was lodged halfway in. She met the porch with her rear end.

Davis was at her side in a millisecond. Sandra wasn’t far behind.

“A.J.?” Robinson
’
s voice echoed along with the buzzing in her head.

“I may need you to drive me to the hospital.”

CHAPTER TWENTY

IF AMANDA DIDN’T go to Raleigh—didn’t get answers straight from the source—who would suffer? Would another girl go missing? Or turn up dead?

Going seemed the lesser of two evils. And it wasn’t a big deal.

Plenty of people visited Death Row. Amanda wouldn
’
t be the first to have misgivings. Wouldn
’
t be the last. And if she repeated the words often enough, she might find some solace and be able to fight the urge to find a way around the whole ordeal.

Where would that leave Camelia Jurik? And Paige? Kimberly, Tara or the dozens of names she
’
d had staring at her for the last five days.

Nowhere. Afraid. Alone. Dead.

Paige is all I have left, Detective Nettles.

“You don
’
t have to go.” Robinson
’
s steady voice zapped through the remnants of a tearful, early-morning phone call that had ripped her from a short and deep sleep.

Back to a harsh reality where little girls went missing and their mothers went crazy with worry. And there was nothing Amanda could do but work the same angles.

Hope for new evidence. Repeat the same empty promises.

Camelia Jurik
’
s voice held all the usual trappings. The last dregs of humanity as she begged Amanda to find her daughter. Almost as if she expected to be let down. Expected Amanda to give up, like everyone else. To set it aside until something horrific happened.

It latched onto something inside her. It wouldn
’
t let go, the picture of a scared, young kid its guiding light.

And the two they
’
d been unable to save, a horror she couldn
’
t forget. The body they
’
d discovered yesterday was a bloated mess of tissue, bodily fluids and sallow, waxy skin. She
’
d been naked, arms across the chest. Blisters dotted her fingers and toes, but she didn
’
t have the needle piercing her heart or the precise etching across her sternum.

Almost as if their unsub had been interrupted.

By Jonas? Or Sandra, who ran the same path every day, at similar times?

Either way it was another fifteen-year-old girl they
’
d identified—one not on their original list of three. Tara Labbe had been missing three months and three days.

“You
’
re injured. The doctor said you should rest your leg.” Robinson strode alongside her, down the halls of Hershel Junior High.

“It was superficial. Looked way worse than it was. Nothing ibuprofen won
’
t fix.” Eventually. She’d get over the pain each step caused. The slight limp she was trying to hide—and failing at, apparently.

What didn’t he get about the urgency of their situation?

“Yeah. I was there, remember?” He let out a grunt.

After he’d arrived on scene, yesterday, he’d questioned Sandra. Sent her on her way before the older woman knew what was happening. Took one look at the metal coming from Amanda’s leg and picked her up as if she weighed nothing. Asked her if she wanted a quick walk-through of the scene. And then ordered his crew to categorize and collect everything.

Stayed in a decent mood through an emergency room visit and a pharmacy pit stop. Another late night spent pouring over evidence.

That guy wasn’t present, today, with the likeliness of an appearance slim. Which was too bad. She liked the Charming FBI agent, mixed in with a perfect amount of The Jerk to keep her guessing.

“I say let sleeping dogs lie.” The words came out with annoyed gruffness.

Class was in session, leaving nothing but the tap of their shoes on the tile flooring. They
’
d spent a good hour in Principal Kern
’
s office. First obtaining visitors passes, then explaining why Ariana wouldn
’
t be finishing out the year traditionally—at least as much as they could.

Amanda scanned the red lockers for the one that was Ariana
’
s. “Do you?”

“You’re not even taking me seriously, are you?” He stopped near the end of one row and knocked on the metal surface. Then rolled the combination. Jerked open the door.

A mass of books stared back at them. Notebooks were stacked on the top shelf. Pictures decorated the door. Shots of Ariana and various friends. “We all know I can
’
t resist a good mystery, right? We
’
ll head out in the morning, as planned. Get any details we can. Head back. By that time, everything should be settled in your new digs.”

He snapped up a notebook and flipped through the pages in terse bursts. “This isn
’
t a shopping trip.”

Amanda clasped her hands together over one shoulder. Tried hard to bat her eyelashes super-fast. “You mean we
’
re not playing pick the most dangerous criminal? I love that game.”

Not even a smile cracked through his demeanor.

Somehow, he
’
d woken up on the wrong side of the air mattress, even though he
’
d had both sides to choose from and she
’
d been cramped on her small couch. Fighting all the ways Naive Youngster could complete the most glorious sabotage.

Neither of them were saints. And slipping beside this handsome FBI agent, with room to stretch, spelled danger, in the most basic form. Especially at three in the morning.

The hazard signals were still blaring.

All the while Naive Youngster blabbed about the merits of centering Robinson’s attention. On her. Getting him to
talk
.

Which wasn’t usually a problem.

“I
’
m not letting you shoulder all the work. You want me, you get what comes with it. And I
’
m done hiding out. There a problem with that?”

“Nope.” His jaw clenched. Added to the clipped and surly attitude he
’
d been carrying, like a pillowcase full of forbidden Halloween candy. “That doesn
’
t mean you should jump into something detrimental.”

Detrimental?
She huffed. “Look me in the eye and tell me you don
’
t think there
’
s any worthiness to the request.” She
’
d gladly check a visit to Beth off her to-do list. Had forced herself to think of the impending moment in sterile terms. So she wouldn
’
t have to tango with the inky fear tangling her insides.

Answers for a handful of young girls.

If Beth didn
’
t have them, they could move on. End of story. And there
’
d be no grounds for the dark and heavy emotion to gain a choke-hold. If she had information...well, Amanda could deal with that, too.

Robinson didn
’
t move. Just gripped the top edge of the compartment and locked eyes with her. As if she hadn
’
t perfected that I-know-everything stare, herself.

“I
’
m not an idiot. I understand this has the potential to go south quickly. I also can
’
t pass up the opportunity to figure out if the information is coming from luck or something else. Call it a challenge.”

Irritation darkened his features and rolled off him in waves. “That
’
s the problem. Everything
’
s a game to her. And you
’
re not playing. There’s no winner.”

They could agree on that.

“According to Dexter, she
’
s had no contact, be it letters, emails, visitors or phone calls, with anyone other than her lawyer. She
’
s sent exactly four letters that have gone unanswered. Had very limited Internet access.”

A scoff bubbled forward. “All she
’
d need is five to ten minutes, some encryption and anyone without computer knowledge won
’
t have any idea what they
’
re looking at. Message sent, received and carried out.”

His eyes turned to slits. “Let
’
s not get ahead of ourselves.”

“The Internet can be dangerous. All that information is somewhere, waiting to fall into the hands of predators. One wrong move and someone has your personal information. Next thing you know, you
’
re fighting stolen identity with little to prove you are you and he or she is not. And that
’
s the tip of what Internet predators are capable of.

“They slip into your son or daughter
’
s game, play a couple rounds and get a user name. Now, they can message your child. Maybe convince a sweet nine-year-old they should meet up at an ice cream shop. Or worse, a teenager just dying to have her first boyfriend. Then there are things like Darknet, encrypted browsers and websites that aren’t searchable, but require an exact address to locate them.”

“Sounds like a hotbed for crime.”

It was newer. “Pretty much.”

“That
’
s why Ariana is not allowed online.” He pulled out another notebook and scanned the contents. “She didn
’
t speak to me for a good twenty-four hours.”

Amanda remembered the incident well. Never seen his sweet niece so mad. Or the two of them at such odds. It seemed par for the course since she
’
d turned thirteen. And Robinson wasn
’
t willing to give an inch, in the name of safety.

“I don
’
t think this guy is getting to them that way. None of these girls had any online profiles. Known or unknown to the parents.”

He was quiet a minute. Then he quirked an eyebrow at her and caught her in his gaze. “Yes, I know I
’
m overprotective. News flash. I don
’
t feel guilty about it.”

She would have smiled. If she thought it might get him to realize he could do just as much harm being in that camp versus camp lacksidasical. “I didn
’
t say anything.”

“You don’t have to.” He went back to his search. “I know what you’re thinking. No.” He gave a solid shake of his head. “Just no.”

“She
’
s a smart kid. If you explained the dangers and allowed supervised—”

“Are we talking about the same little girl—”