Aftermath Read online

  It wasn’t what she wanted to hear. Not today. Not ever. A shaky hand lowered the picture. She managed to meet her partner’s gaze as if everything were perfect in the world.

  Dark circles lines the other woman’s eyes and made them look a deeper green. Her skin looked pale. And her blonde hair wasn’t in a tight ponytail for once, but down around her shoulders in soft waves.

  “How are you feeling?”

  Davis shrugged. “Like a bag of smashed buttholes.”

  Amanda swallowed, tried to avoid the shudder humming near the surface. The instant bad taste in her mouth. “Thanks for the crude picture. Really perks up my day.”

  Davis shrugged. “Figured it would. Managed to keep some broth down around three this morning. Skipped breakfast just to make sure I didn’t toss my cookies during the meeting.” The other woman adjusted her bag as if it held a ton of books. “That girl related to the one we found last night?”

  “Kimberly.” Amanda managed to keep the bite, lodged in her clenched jaw, from seeping into her words. She rounded her desk. Shoved the picture of Paige Jurik under a file and sat. “You pregnant or what?”

  “Or what. One would have to find a member of the opposite sex one was willing to have relations with first.”

  “That’s very...clinical.” Amanda resisted the urge to dig out Paige’s photo and study it. It was a coincidence in a morning filled with them. Nothing more. The girl had loving parents and probably a houseful of siblings. Doppelgänger’s existed. Amanda’s was half her age. No big deal. “Been burned a time or two, Davis?”

  The other woman dropped her bag and stepped closer. Took the hair tie from around her wrist and went to work on the near-natural face lift her hairdo usually gave her. “Nothing that dramatic. Dated a cop once. Our careers got in the way with no give for either party. Went our own ways. End of story. Made a vow to avoid dating within law enforcement. Gets too messy when it doesn’t work out.”

  Hmm. She’d have to file that away for later. “Rules are overrated. You never know where Prince Charming may be.” Amanda flipped through the info in the file. Young girls ranging from twelve to fifteen stared back at her. Disappearances bisecting eighteen months to two weeks.

  “Or when King Jerk-Wad might show up.” The other woman crossed her arms.

  “Well, they tend to have more than one type of job.” And she was missing something more than a relationship gone wrong. Or maybe her morning had made her overly suspicious. “You know what they say. There’s a lemon in every bunch.”

  A sarcastic burst of air left the other woman’s lips. “What do we have on Kimberly?”

  Okay. Message received. End of story. “Cause of death is hypothermia.”

  “It’s been eighty-five degrees or above during the day. What’d this guy do, stick her on ice?”

  The horror-movie image of being in a bathtub, full of cold slush, with a note detailing death by removed organs popped into her head. Kimberly was intact. Even her hymen. “No defensive or restraint wounds on her wrists or ankles.”

  “Drugs in her system?”

  “Nope. Perfect Mani and Pedi. Makeup on the eyelashes, which were frozen shut. No evidence of sexual assault. Twenty-one gauge, one-hundred-and-fifty millimeter amniocentesis needle lodged in between the fourth and fifth rib and right into her left ventricle.”

  As if the needle had entered her heart, Davis winced. “Post-mortem?”

  Amanda nodded. “Or close to. Same with the carving in her flesh. Techs think a sterile blade was used.”

  “No way it happened without drugs or some type of subduing mechanism. Nobody takes that kind of pain without trying to defend themselves. We’re missing something.”

  Her sentiments exactly. “The lab plans to retest the sample, but couldn’t promise me when it would be ready. Seems they’re back logged.”

  “Can the M.E. recheck the autopsy findings?”

  Amanda shook her head. “I was there. Went through every area with him, from the rice in her stomach to the blisters on her hands and feet.” Could they have missed a hidden bruise or needle prick between Kimberly’s toes?

  “Rice is an odd last meal.”

  Not if the meal was something their unsub ate all the time.

  “I guess you’re right.” Davis picked up her bag. “There are jerk-wads everywhere. It’s best to hide in a cave and hope the bear hibernating there won’t eat me. Seems to be working for you. See you at the meeting.” The other woman disappeared from sight.

  Was that what she’d been doing? Hiding out in a cave better suited to wild animals? Hoping life and love would overlook all the reasons she was there in the first place?

  She ran a hand through her hair. Pretending one early morning kiss hadn’t happened wasn't possible. The two of them were always running straight into situations without the proper chronological process. Talking should come before a screw-everything-this-ship-is-going-down kiss. And somewhere in there they needed to figure out how to help Lilly.

  Really help her.

  Although, Lilly had seemed better this morning. Had even laughed. So, maybe there was hope. Or perhaps, Amanda had started living in a fairy-tale world with Naive Youngster.

  The phone at her hip vibrated. She dug it out of her pocket and noted Robinson’s number. If she knew him at all, he was probably calling to check on her and make good on his promise for a continuation of their morning.

  She brought the device to her ear. Tried to infuse her body with cheerful vibes. “Hey there, Super Spy. What’s up?”

  “A for effort, beautiful.” A tisk came over the line in warm, even waves. “Rough morning?”

  She rubbed her neck. “What makes you say that?”

  “You. Your voice gets a tad higher when you’re stressed but putting on a good face. If you’re worried about me, set your mind at ease. I’m not expecting a marriage proposal. Not after one kiss. Two or three? Maybe.”

  A laugh bubbled at the base of her throat. She let out a pent up breath. “I’m not sure why I expect a simple conversation with you. Ever.”

  “Eventually, you’ll learn.” A chuckle met her ear. “Reporting for duty as sole proprietor of the hero squad.”

  A smile slid over her mouth. A contagious little bead of excitement buzzed through her system. Who needed simple when she had Robinson’s off-the-wall excitement?

  She’d already stepped outside of the cave last night. And solidified her stance with their never-to-be-forgotten lip-lock. No sense in going back. Not when her eyes had already adjusted to the light. It didn’t mean she wouldn’t proceed with caution.

  She leaned back in her chair. Drummed her free hand along the armrest. “A squad would indicate a large quantity of people, Robbie.”

  “You work best in on-the-fly conditions. One person or twenty. You can handle it.” The words were soft and sincere, but still held a hint of teasing that was signature Robinson. It jumped through her nervous system, on top of everything else this man always made her feel.

  Could a second chance be this simple?

  She should be studying her notes. Preparing a speech. Figuring out how best not to screw up and still stay true to herself. Instead, she was contemplating one tall, dark and handsome hero turned non-hero, turned hero again. “What’s going on?”

  “Later this afternoon, when you get a minute, meet me at the old Bening place.”

  “Why?” The plantation house gave her a small case of the creeps, even in broad daylight. She knew too much about things that had happened there, which was too bad considering the beauty of the property and house. It had been Jordan’s mom’s and he could have sublet it for a hefty price. Or sold it to someone looking for seclusion, but easy access to the city.

  Neither scenario would likely occur. There was too much sentiment. Too many memories. So, it sat with a caretaker for both the lawn and shrubbery. A handyman for minor repairs and upkeep.

  “No more wild goose chases. Dentzen already gave me his by-the-book lecture for the da
y.”

  He scoffed. “I never send you anywhere you weren’t already headed. And, anyway, this request has nothing to do with any kind of bird.”

  “Um…”

  “Just come by later.” More warm-hearted laughter came her way. “I promise to protect you from ghosts and goblins.”

  “No one said anything about otherworldly apparitions. You came up with that all on your own.” Infuriating man knew exactly what to do or say to get her compliance. And if she gave him a speck of ammunition, he’d use it to the full extent. Forever. “And it might be a while. I’ve got my end of the task force to uphold.”

  “Dentzen finally wised up and put you in charge?”

  “Something like that.” She stilled for half a second. Remembered his private talk with her boss last night. “You didn’t have anything to do with it, did you?”

  “Oh-no. No.” The last bit came on a sarcastic laugh-scoff. “I think I rank below you on Captain Dentzen’s list of screw-ups. Fortunately, he has no say in my career and no clout with my boss. As much as I’d like to butt in CMPD’s business and tell him how to run things, I’m a little smarter than that.”

  Right. She blew out a breath. Then held up Paige Jurik’s photo. Stared at the face that looked so much like hers. The kid was thirteen. Been missing six months. And didn’t fit any of their current criteria. “You ever find evidence and know exactly what it is, without a doubt, before you run it through the lab?”

  “Sure. It’s bound to happen. What have you got?”

  What was this kid like? Did she have any of her mother’s sociopathic tendencies? Or those of a faceless father? Had nurture taken over when nature could not?

  She threaded a hand through her hair. She could be jumping to conclusions based on a rough morning.

  That was it. She was wrong. And this kid was another face she couldn’t stand to see on a flier. “Information on Paige Jurik.”

  “The owner of the infamous purple diary.” The crunch of an apple came over the line. “She didn’t move, did she? She’s missing. Been gone a while, right?”

  “Six months, to the day, as of yesterday.”

  The click of computer keys surfaced in the background. “How old?”

  “Thirteen. As of yesterday.”

  Another crunch. “If Jonas was following a lead there, he had a good reason. Totally unconventional, but purposeful. Terrible team player.” He paused. “She’s way outside of the parameters we discuss this morning.”

  It meant they might need to restructure their search. Or she’d need to go against Dentzen’s wishes and figure out what cases Jonas might have been working on.

  “If you’re gearing up for bad news, remember I take apologies in the form of coffee or a date. A combination would be preferable.”

  A laugh escaped her mouth. “If you wanted coffee in the first place, you could have said so. You didn’t need to waste time with a call and idle chit-chat.”

  “Far from a waste.” The squeak of his office chair floated over the waves. “So, lay it on me.”

  Silence reigned a beat. “It’s not substantiated, but I’m ninety percent positive Paige is Beth’s biological child.”

  A choking sound, followed by vigorous coughing, filled the line.

  As if he were in the room and she might pat his back, Amanda sat forward. “You gonna make it? Or do I need to send someone in for the Heimlich?”

  He cleared his throat. She envisioned him putting a fist to his mouth as he cleared pieces of apple from his windpipe. Maybe the other hand removed the chunks from his computer screen. Might teach him to chomp in her ear.

  “Warn a guy next time.” He choked out. “I’ve got fruit in my lungs, now. Probably gonna die of pneumonia.”

  She rolled her eyes. “Unlikely.”

  “Not according to your mom. It only takes two teaspoons of fluid.” Another cough. “Give me the details.”

  The shrill sound of a woman’s voice reached her, from the direction of the front lobby. A calm, male one answered in words she couldn’t make out. Amanda stood, rounded her desk. Peaked out from her workspace in time to watch a clipboard whiz over Brink’s head. It crashed into the security door that separated their work area from the reception.

  He had his back to it, one hand resting on the counter, where a white-faced kid, right out of the academy, sat. James or Jake. Something like that. Jared. His eyes were huge and bouncing between the two.

  The woman in front of them was thin and tall. A brown jogging suit hung from her frame. Dark hair was thrown in a messy ponytail. Amanda stepped closer. Noted the woman had one black and one brown running shoe on her feet. Not a speck of makeup lined her face. And a giant black leather purse hung from one shoulder.

  She looked clean, but feral. As if combining the worst nightmare, and deranged imagination, wouldn’t demonstrate what she’d been through. She heaved in gulps of breath. The pen in her hand followed much the same path as the clipboard.

  “Ma’am, I’m going to need you to calm down.” Brink stepped closer, taser ready.

  The woman shook her head. Her gaze flicked to the device in his hand. “I want to talk to someone about my daughter. I filed the reports. I did everything they asked. And nothing has happened.”

  “What’s going on, A.J.?” Robinson’s voice held a hint of worry.

  “An upset lady wanting to discuss her child.”

  The woman reached into her purse. Brink’s arm twitched near his revolver. Not good. Amanda hadn’t spotted a gun in the mess of this woman’s clothes. Didn’t mean she didn’t have one in her giant bag. Didn’t mean she did.

  “Let me call you back.” She ditched her phone. Heard it skitter across her desk and drop to the tile.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  Journal Entry #116

  Age: 14

  WHEN I WAS younger, I wanted to be a veterinarian. I wasn’t allowed to have pets, but an elderly neighbor, Mrs. Theodore, had two tabby cats and an old poodle I could play with anytime I wanted. And she even let me pet sit from time to time, when she left town to see her children, who lived in another state.

  One time, while Mrs. Theodore was away, the younger of the two cats, Willow, gave birth to a litter of eleven kittens. The poor thing hid herself in the back of an open cabinet and already had six kittens by the time I found her. She was panting up a storm and growled at me, at first.

  Even at ten, I knew better than to touch her, or her babies, but wanted to make more space, so I moved the pots and pans surrounding the distraught mother. I found some old rags and tried to place them as close as possible to soak up some of the mess. And provide a more comfortable place to lay.

  I stayed with her until the last pink-nosed kitten was born and they were all eating happily. All but one. It lay beneath one of its siblings, unmoving.

  I remember an immense weight settling in my chest, like the rapid descent of a failing hot-air balloon. And knowing, as I carefully picked up the half-warm, half-cold body, the poor little guy hadn’t made it.

  Never had a chance. And even my makeshift rounds of animal CPR wouldn’t revive him.

  The same was true for Mr. and Mrs. Carter.

  The moment I managed to jimmy the lock on their front door and stepped inside, I knew. A metallic odor filled the air. An unnatural stillness surrounded me. It elevated my heart. Stole the breath from my lungs.

  There, on the living room floor, lay my best friend’s parents. Cold. Dead. Covered in their own blood and bodily fluids.

  ___

  AMANDA PUSHED PAST a few detectives frozen in place. As if they’d had no formal training, they stood, unmoving. She punched in the code for the door as the woman standing within the precinct lobby began tugging at something in her purse.

  “Hands where I can see them.” Brink had his gun raised, his voice a barking command. He’d abandoned his taser the minute the unknown woman had moved.

  All they needed was an unnecessary death. This woman’s or one of their own. And more bad pub
licity.

  The woman looked up, hand still inside the bag. A startled expression covered her face. Panic hurtled across her features. Bloodshot eyes zipped from her to Brink and back. Her dark gaze didn’t seem entirely focused on either of them. And she hadn’t dropped the item, still in her clutches, hidden by fabric and seams.

  The pulse at her neck beat a harsh rhythm against her flesh.

  Brink shot Amanda a glare as she pulled up beside him. She didn’t bother telling him to lower his gun. “Ma’am.” She stuck her hand in the other woman’s direction.

  Was aware the reward might be lead to the chest. Or something as simple as a stick of gum. “I’m Detective Amanda Nettles. And, in case, he didn’t introduce himself, this is Detective Archer Brink.” She pasted what she hoped was a sure smile on her face. Lowered her voice. “He’s fantastic in our Cyber Crimes division. A little rusty with people.”

  The other woman eyed them, again, as she dropped whatever she’d been about to pull from her bag. Slipped her palm against Amanda’s.

  Firm grip. Appropriate clasp before the hold ended.

  One glance backward told Amanda that Brink had holstered his weapon. A scowl covered his face. Too bad. He could add this to his list of things he hated about her. No loss there.

  “I didn’t catch your name.”

  She gripped the strap of her purse in both hands, near her shoulder. Her thumb tracked across the fabric in a repetitive motion, her nail grating against the edges. Down. Up. Repeat. “Camelia.”

  No last name. Wasn’t the first time someone had come in and been a little secretive. “Do you drink coffee or tea, Camelia?”

  “This isn’t a restaurant, Nettles.” Brink folded his arms across his chest. Annoyance flashed in his eyes as if he had something more important to tend to. “Camelia, here, almost took my head off with a clipboard. Sorta comes close to an assault of a police officer.” His voice held a silent stand-with-me-or-get-out.

  Camelia pressed her lips together. Her fingers turned white on her purse. She didn’t offer explanations or apologies. Just stood in place as if she were used to the harassment the detective dished out. And then her dark eyes were on Amanda. Waiting.