Aftermath (45 page)

“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 an 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.

The man—she was sure the large shape had to be male—rose to his feet. Her brain was screaming for her to get up.

She couldn’t move. Tried to fumble for her gun. Met hard concrete and loose rock.

The flick of releasing metal penetrated her fog. A glint of light ricocheted off of something shiny in his hands. It danced around as he wielded it with skill.

Knife.

An expletive raced through her mind. Had her scurrying backward in a crab walk until she reached the edge of her car. He advanced. She kicked out. Her foot met the solid wall of a thigh.

A male groan filled the air as he grabbed the area. She rolled to her feet. Placed a hand on her bumper as she battled a wave of nausea.

A shout came from nearby. Her assailant froze. And then he hobbled into the shadows.

No. Not happening. “Stop. CMPD.” She stood. Staggered from her vehicle to Robinson’s. Took a full breath. Gunned it across the parking lot, toward the retreating figure.

Dove toward him and found purchase on a leg. He staggered a few steps, but righted himself.

Kicked at her with his free one. Missed.

The pound of shoes on pavement caught her attention. Her name drifted to her from a distance. The buzzing of pain, in her body, took up the rest of her brain.

The man brought the blade down toward her in a swooping motion. The sharp edge found purchase along her forearm. Fire burned up to her bicep. He repeated the motion.

Amanda punched the back of his knee with all her might. With a yelp, he crumpled.

She started to rise.

And then Robinson and Davis rushed up, guns aimed. “FBI! Hands above your head.” When the man didn’t comply, Robinson pushed him to the ground. Ripped the knife from his grasp. And wrestled him into cuffs. “A.J.? You good?” He didn’t take his eyes from her attacker, hauling him off the ground in a rough jerk.

“Yeah.” Minus the earthquake rattling everything. She stood. “We’ve got a body.”

“Saw that.” His voice was terse.

A man with dark hair and eyes stared back at them, anger splashed across his features. “This is police brutality.” A lisp accompanied the words, familiar.

“Nobody’s gonna believe that fat lie. You assaulted a police officer. Left us a little present.”

“I didn’t leave you sh—”

Robinson jerked him forward.

“I want my lawyer.” The words came from clenched teeth.

Robinson began reading him his rights.

Davis pocketed her weapon and whipped her jacket from her small frame. Had it around Amanda’s arm before she could protest. “You’re shaking.” Her voice was a whisper as her eyes connected with Amanda’s.

Amanda slid her arm from the other woman’s grasp. Pain, like a million pointy blades, jackknifed through her entire system. “I’ll replace the jacket.”

“Amanda.”

A sparkle caught her eye a few feet from where she stood, at the edge of an adjacent street lamp light. She moved past Davis and picked it up. Noted the circular pendant. The May birthstone nestled in the corner.

Exactly like Ariana’s.

CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

FOOTPRINTS TRACKED THE edge of the garage. Not one set, but two. The first, a pair of junior’s sneakers, the second, a slightly larger impression of heels and toes. And droppings of blood between the two, near the edge of the Bening garage.

Amanda blocked out the chaotic string of noise around her, both Robinson’s crew and a handful of people from the precinct. And the panic lining Lilly’s voice as she spoke with her brother, ten feet to the left.

Judging from the grim set of Robinson’s jaw, he was more agitated than the rest of his body let on. While Lilly wasn’t holding back, every emotion clear on her face.

She couldn’t know everything they’d already been through tonight. The young girl they’d found and had Robinson’s team working on. And the man who might have done much more than slice open her arm and deliver a few blows had he and Davis not shown up.

A man who insisted he had nothing to do with the young woman’s death. Who’d, so far, refused to talk until his lawyer arrived. And, even then might not have answers. If he did, Ariana wouldn’t be gone.

A headache gained a foothold, starting at her right temple.

What if Dentzen was right? She was flirting with a line that had nothing to do with their current case. With these missing and dead girls. And she’d spent her time chasing her tail.

Lilly let out a cry. Covered her face with her hands as Robinson stood with a helpless expression taking root on his face. As if he believed he had to swallow all his feelings whole.

The sight attacked something near Amanda’s heart, the silent, but emotionally charged ride over with him front and center in her mind. Beyond making promises to find Ariana
alive—
a career field no-no—there wasn’t much she could do or say. So, she’d settled for resting her hand, bandaged arm and all, on his shoulder, and a prayer.

Dislodging the ball of lead taking up her airway.

Still worked at it as she aimed all of her concentration on the tracks leading into the tree line she and McKenna had walked every summer of their childhood. Swatted a mosquito from the back of her neck.

“You sure you don’t want to have someone look at that arm?” Jordan appeared beside her, his gaze flicking from the well-lit scene around them to the gauze she’d placed over butterfly band-aids, in the precinct bathroom.

As if the act of mentioning it had alerted her nerve endings, a lick of prickly discomfort throbbed upward. “It’s not even that deep. You got the feed from the cameras?”

“Yeah. McKenna’s going over it in the house.” He crossed his arms, a grim line set to his lips. “There’s a broken garage window. Bloody hand prints across the workbench and the cover of my Charger.”

What? She tore her concentration from Lilly and Robinson and focused on her friend and colleague.

“It’s a concerning amount—not like the owner was in a panic at all. More like—”

“It was done with purpose.” Amanda headed toward the garage. Was careful to bypass any prints around the door and entered. “Do we have any video of this area?”

“One camera. It faces into the woods with a slant that includes this door and window.”

The smell of dust and dirt mixed with a faint metallic odor. The prints tracked from the edges of the window, as if someone had broken the glass and then placed both hands on either side of the frame to help pull themselves through.

They continued across the workbench beneath it, a smudge near some of the tools hanging on the wall. And carried to the brown cover over Jordan’s 1968 Dodge Charger. The material sat half on the floor, on the passenger side, a red imprint on the clear window.

Amanda raised her gloved hand over it, but didn’t touch. The print was perfect. Almost as if placed there on purpose.

Notice me.

“Beth said this guy is sending a message.” The words slipped from her mouth before she could stop them.

The scuffle of Jordan’s shoes filled the silence. “You putting any eggs in that basket?”

What choice did she have? “You know the Knight family, right?”

“Uh…” Jordan fiddled with a vice grip.

She walked toward him and the exit.

Movement caught her eye, outside the window.

Lilly’s pointer finger was aimed at Robinson’s chest, the look on her face similar to the day of their wedding, while he held still.

As if prepared for a battle he had no chance of winning.

No.

“Get me Dexter’s number.” Amanda tore her gloves from her hands. Exited the garage. Was in front of the Robinson siblings in seconds.

“We should never have come here.” Even in the stagnant evening air, Lilly’s voice carried. The shrill quality drew the attention of their crew. “Ariana wouldn’t be missing.”

“I know you’re scared.” Robinson’s voice managed to come across as soothing. As if he were dealing with a stranger instead of his sister. His gaze flicked to Amanda for half a second, then bounced back to Lilly.

She shook her head. Threw her hand in the air. Brought an open palm down on her brother’s chest. “I should never have come.” She repeated the motion. “I should have never agreed to take care of—”

“Stop.” Amanda stepped between them and grabbed Lilly’s upper arm. Pulled her forward and toward the house.

The other woman opened her mouth.

“Not another word until we get inside.”

They climbed the steps and entered, the door slamming behind them.

Lilly shrugged out of her grip. “You can’t possibly understand, Amanda.”

“You’re worried sick. Beating yourself up for every encounter the two of you have had. Wondering how in the world she got past four adults without notice. Why you didn’t spend every minute watching her every move.”