Aftermath Read online

  But that was a faraway dream. And like tossing a stone into a still body of water, the ripples of time distorted the image.

  “Where is our tall, dark and handsome dream man these days? Surely you could keep him satisfied long enough to—”

  The packet of papers landed in front of her. Amanda stood. Crossed her arms over her chest. “What’s your interest in these girls?”

  The coil in her stomach slithered upward. Beth flicked the pages away from her. They fanned across the surface. Young faces filled with hope. Probably dead. Maybe tortured. She blocked the images from her mind.

  Didn’t replace them with another.

  Under the rug. Couldn’t hurt her.

  She pasted a smile on her face and moved her hands under the table. Knew better than to put the unsteady appendages anywhere in Amanda’s line of sight. “As you can tell, I don’t have a lot to do around here. Figured I’d yank some chains. One last hurrah and all that.”

  Both Lilly and Amanda watched her. Identical looks of skepticism on their faces. And Dexter was still beyond the glass. His frown as intense as ever. Baker Jackson had appeared at his side, sometime in the last five minutes. He said something to the Chaplin. Shook his head as if Dexter had said or done something only an idiot could manage.

  He did work here...

  “I’m checking your Internet log, Beth.” Amanda tapped one foot against the concrete floor. “If you’ve been talking to anyone, I’ll know about it.”

  A scoff slipped past Beth’s lips. “So they can inject the drugs twice? Not a great deterrent. Hard to do much with ten minutes a week. And access to news sites.”

  “Half that time would suffice.”

  For Amanda, maybe. Computers weren’t second language to Beth. She’d learned what she needed to know. Was pretty good at faking the rest. Wasn’t interested in a takeover, here.

  Or anywhere.

  Would Amanda believe she’d stumbled upon the knowledge?

  Judging from the severe frown and skepticism plastered over her face, Beth doubted it. “I find it interesting that you know about the information at all. I didn’t send you a letter about it.”

  Amanda’s lips pressed into a firm line. “No. You sent my husband one. Sort of passive aggressive. Just like the letter you actually sent me.”

  If the other woman only knew of the four page one she’d shredded and flushed down the toilet. The words had been a purging she couldn’t complete with face-to-face confrontation. An uncensored and unmodified letter to everyone and no one. And addressed to the detective.

  And if she didn’t examine why, the wound might scab over. It wouldn’t heal, because the damage had been done, but it might resume some semblance of function.

  The faces beckoned to her. Dates they’d gone missing and other pertinent information visible. She moved a brunette in front of a blonde. Found a freckled-faced girl with fiery red hair that went before those two.

  Scattered the pictures like puzzle pieces. Avoided the bigger details and zeroed in estimated dates of disappearances, birth dates and geography.

  Her hand stilled a moment. Amanda would have done this too, so why bother with this visit? The ages caught her eye.

  They were all fourteen.

  It wasn’t happening again. It wasn’t the same.

  Another floorboard whipped from beneath her feet. Not many remained. She could still jump across.

  “I’d say having your lawyer oust the information on national TV was a smooth move. The mission to drag the past in the open, again, is working. To some extent.”

  What? Her eyes locked with Amanda’s. Beth had never... Her lawyer had asked what she planned to do. And she’d responded instead of keeping her thoughts to herself. Had she actually orchestrated the events, she might find a little satisfaction right about now.

  Instead, she went back to the youth in front of her. Placed a few more faces. And then she stumbled over one she knew too well. Brown hair. Brown eyes. The most beautiful smile she’d ever seen.

  Her hands stilled. The stomach coil cut off her air. The tornado stole her last foothold. Left her hanging from the edge, her grip slipping.

  She shook her head. Couldn’t stop herself from the action. Not Paige.

  When every part of her wanted to snatch the picture and hold it to herself, she used her pointer finger to scoot it toward the edge of the table. As if, by avoiding contact, she could forget the smiling face. The sparkling eyes.

  Six months. No way she was still alive. No. Way.

  Somebody else’s problem.

  A sharp prick met the back of her nose and flared to life behind her eyes. “Doesn’t fit.” The words floated around her, in a bare whisper.

  She went back to the faces. The ones with hope. Could feel Amanda’s gaze on her as if it were a heat-seeking missile. Good thing everything inside of her was bone-cold.

  Amanda sat. “You’re sure?”

  Don’t make eye contact. Don’t go there.

  She was better off here. Didn’t have to fake her way through. Or contemplate actions she would take to ensure the safety of one little girl, given enough freedom.

  ___

  SHE DIDN’T KNOW.

  The thought echoed through Amanda like a scream down a mile-long well. Beth had no idea that Paige was missing. And, although, the ride up had contained a discussion on every scenario about today’s venture, Amanda had prepared for this one the least.

  Not the quiet countenance. Nor the dejected forward roll to shoulders hunched over faces they’d likely never find alive. Beth moved one picture behind Denise and in front of Nancy, separating two of three known victims.

  They’d talked quite a bit about manipulation. Games. Complete lack of regard. Instead of the burning anger she’d expected to blast through her veins, she felt overwhelming sadness ripple across her skin.

  She straightened. It didn’t change what the other woman had done. Was probably still doing, in a different form.

  It’d be best to remember that. Get to the heart of their visit. “How’d you put Kimberly and Denise together, Beth?”

  “Same way I’m doing here. Common sense.” She moved a blonde girl to a separate pile, but on the opposite side of Paige. “Just because I took out some buildings—”

  “And people.”

  Hazel eyes flicked to her. As if the words didn’t make sense, she squinted. “Doesn’t mean I know anything about these girls.”

  “Why send the letter, then?”

  Beth went back to work. Moved Tara’s picture between Kimberly and Denise like a puzzle coming together. “Why bring Saint Lilly?”

  “Why not? Seems fitting, right?”

  Beth didn’t look up. “Only if they let her inject me.”

  “If this were truly one last laugh, boredom or any other name you can come up with, you wouldn’t be shifting those girls around as if life depended on it. Why bother? They’re just kids. Replaceable. Won’t be missed. Someone else’s problem.”

  The sentence tasted bitter on Amanda’s tongue.

  The other woman stilled. The nail of her thumb abraded the edge of her pointer finger in rapid succession.

  “What makes this girl,” she pointed to Denise. “More than a runaway?” Then she moved her finger to Paige.

  Beth followed the progression as if Amanda were administering a vision test. Gave a harsh swallow.

  “And this one not?”

  “My opinion hardly matters.”

  Amanda clenched her teeth together. Had expected this. She pulled the copied diary from her inside jacket pocket. Smoothed it on the table and flipped to the first entry with the numbers at the bottom.

  “If you won’t give me answers about these girls, tell me what this is.”

  Beth’s movements stilled. Her gaze locked on Amanda, dark and glittering. “Don’t patronize me.” Her jaw worked. “You know it’s a math problem.”

  “What does it mean? I’ve already got someone translating it, but I’d like to hear it
from you.”

  Silence reigned a beat.

  No one moved. Not even Lilly.

  A pale hue crept over Beth’s face. Sweat dotted her upper lip. “It’s just a stupid equation.” She started to stand. “Goodbye, Amanda. Lilly, it’s been a pleasure.”

  Robinson’s sister stood. “That’s it? You send Jonas and Baker Jackson cryptic clues and then when asked for clarification, you choke?”

  “I don’t know these girls. Not my problem.”

  “Maybe, instead of blaming the past or other people for your actions—labeling yourself the victim of crappy circumstance and therefore right in every venture—you stand up and fight.”

  The two CO’s in the room worked to fasten Beth’s leg shackles.

  “For the right things.” Lilly jabbed the table with her pointer finger. Didn’t take her eyes from the inmate. “For these girls.”

  Beth’s gaze locked on Robinson’s sister as if she could see into her mind. Into their world for the past year. “Gone back to work, Lilly? Deliver any more babies to mothers who won’t be keeping them? Watch grandmothers rip children from their mother’s arms?”

  A sickening spiral replaced the sadness.

  Lilly didn’t move. Didn’t blink. “You could have told her to stick it where the sun doesn’t shine. Never let her sign those papers.”

  “Right back at you, doll face.” Beth leaned toward them. “Your husband would have never lasted the long haul.” Her voice was whisper soft.

  “While your dad and brother and daughter came every day and described the life you were missing, brought flowers and stuffed animals, he hung back. Bleary-eyed. Flask on the ready. Believing he’d already killed you. Never hoping for your return. Unable to forgive himself. Believing redemption, for an accident that hadn’t been his fault, was out of reach. You can’t understand how that eats a person.”

  Beth straightened. “There are no could-haves, only history. And it repeats itself like a broken record, Lilly. Just spins round and round while the world goes on its merry way.”

  ___

  ROBINSON’S CHILDHOOD FRIEND watched the interchange through the dayroom window. As if he had a vested interest in the outcome. And, knowing Dexter, it probably wasn’t far off.

  He and Amanda were very alike on that point. Would befriend the least deserving. Try to save even the most bent on destruction. Regardless of outcome or personal danger.

  Add an innocent life to the list and neither would back away.

  Reason three-thousand-five-hundred why he still wasn’t onboard with this venture. And that was before he’d seen his friend’s tight stance. Intent gaze. Envisioned the wheels turning in that do or die brain. To anyone who didn’t know him, he appeared calm and in control.

  Robinson knew better. Had seen Dexter in a lot of risky situations. Especially, after the explosion that had almost taken his life.

  “What are you doing, Dex?”

  “My job.” He didn’t take his gaze from the room. “What are you doing?”

  “Wondering when I can turn around and go home. And what kind of fallout today will bring.” Amanda could promise this was a simple venture and quest for knowledge, but he knew better.

  Dexter shifted his jaw, then clenched it tight. “I messed up. I know better than to let anger and frustration get the best of me. Sort of insinuated I couldn’t care less about her salvation.”

  Wow. Robinson rocked back on his heels. Watched the interchange in the room beyond them. Amanda paced the space and then sat. “Do you really believe there’s redemption for her?”

  One eyebrow raised higher on the other man’s forehead. “This a trick question? You know my profession. My work. Where I stand in faith.”

  Sure. He shared the faith part. It took a lot for him to admit he had a hard time forgiving and moving past what Beth had done. Still continued to do so. Witnessing Amanda try to accomplish the same only amplified the situation. “Do you believe it?”

  His gaze flicked to the people around them. A CO stood ten feet down. Dexter opened his mouth. Shut it, then he sighed.

  And Robinson couldn’t help preparing himself for the same old speech everyone gave. Hate the sin, love the sinner. Some variation on striving for perfection—unattainable as it was.

  “The truth?”

  Robinson shifted. “It’d be nice.”

  “I’m human. Most days I’m pretty content with helping others.”

  And, here we go.

  “And some days, I want to be able to go to the beach and take off my shirt. Not worry about magnetic fields. Have no idea when it will rain. Not catch sympathetic looks from those who know even a smidgen of the ordeal. Or a biweekly call from one of my parents, as if I’m sixteen and in college.”

  Robinson released a breath. “Does she have any idea?” He lowered his voice, turned toward him. “Does your boss?”

  He shook his head. “This isn’t about me. There is no reason for her to know. And, yes, the warden and I have had many conversations about the accident. Otherwise, I wouldn’t be here.”

  The bomb that shredded Dexter’s torso had been anything but an accident. It had come six months before Lilly’s actual accident. And neither of them had thought their friend would make it.

  As if the other man knew his thoughts, he held up a hand, his gaze centered on the room in front of them. Amanda’s mouth was moving as Beth flipped through and reorganized photographs.

  Lilly watched the interchange. The CO to their right itched the bridge of his nose, his eyes never leaving the inmate. The CO on the left watched the trio with rapt attention. Amanda stopped mid-sentence, it seemed. Then she continued on.

  “I try really hard not to get distracted around here. It’s unsafe in the best of situations.” The other man used the edge of his thumb to itch the corner of his chin. “Beth thwarted a coup. If she hadn’t dove across the table and taken out another inmate, things might have gotten messy. Found four toothbrushes carved into shivs.”

  “I’d ask if you’re joking, but I’m not even surprised.”

  “One of them had my name written all over it.”

  And she’d probably orchestrated it. Dexter wasn’t stupid. He had to suspect it.

  “I know what you’re thinking. I thought it too. She was questioned for hours, same as the others.”

  Robinson shook his head. Once trust was lost, it took a heck of a lot to get it back. “You’re working with a manipulator. You could question her for three days and she’d stick to the same story.”

  Dexter didn’t move. Didn’t say anything.

  “Say I buy into her innocence. One valiant act doesn’t erase a lifetime of hatred. I may be grateful, but I’m not going to put all my eggs there.”

  The other man shrugged as if they disagreed on if beef was better than pork. “Don’t go putting words in my mouth, Baker Jackson. This isn’t about either of us. It’s bigger than that. God is bigger than that.”

  “That doesn’t mean you put yourself in harm’s way. Over and over again.”

  “Doesn’t it?” A smirk played across his face. “Have you ever thought it might really be about loving people, regardless? Showing love without beating them over the head with words meant to be guidelines, not stones. Seeing past actions that are often horrible and beyond destructive to what is beneath.”

  God, forgive him, but he couldn’t do any of that right now. Maybe never. And he couldn’t sit here and pretend it was possible. Not even with a friend. “So, have you seen anything, oh wise one? Any secrets jumping out at you?”

  Dexter tucked his hands in his pockets. “I’m just a man interested in the truth.”

  A typical angry Bethany solar-flare sprung inside his chest. “Here’s one. She didn’t care about who was inside that rehab center when she set that bomb. Didn’t stop to think about who would die. How much damage it would cause. How great the aftermath would be. A ripple that will continue for decades.”

  “Or a desperate cry for help.”

&nb
sp; Robinson rubbed a hand down his face. Swallowed back a healthy dose of bile. Held back a barrage of ugly words. “Sure.”

  “It was wrong. Unconscionable. Heartless. All of her behavior suggests—”

  “So, you’ve forgiven her?”

  “Wouldn’t it be perfect if I did? And hypocritical if I didn’t.”

  He snapped his lips shut. Took in a healthy breath of stale prison air. “That’s so helpful.”

  Blue eyes rested on him. “I’m not the enemy.”

  Robinson released a breath. Clapped him on the shoulder. None of this was Dexter’s fault. “I know. I’m sorry, man.”

  “When are you and Amanda going to let everybody in on your little secret?”

  “Lilly told you?”

  He nodded. “She called me after the wedding. Explained what happened. Didn’t leave out one thing.”

  That sounded like something Lilly would do. “It’s in the past.”

  And everyone would figure it out eventually.

  If he and Amanda could get over the newest hurdle. Finding some time not riddled with problems, so they could talk. She’d spent most of last night reading and working on code.

  Mostly, memorizing that stupid journal.

  He’d seen her intense work ethic before, but this was something else. Something beyond personal. As if she were committing herself to penance.

  Beyond the glass, Beth stood. As if he could read her mind, Dexter monitored her progress. A CO adjusted Beth’s cuffs and led her toward the door.

  “That’s easy when the gift is all wrapped up with a neat bow. Things being in the past, I mean.” Dexter shifted. “You got the girl. The happy ending. A family that’s finally settling. You deserve that.”

  Right now, everything was the farthest from settled. “Your point?”

  “Anger’s a funny thing. Sneaks up on the least suspecting. Ruins everything in its path. Even worse. Fear.”

  The CO nearby opened the door, so Beth could pass through, flanked by the other officer. One in front and one behind. Her eyes connected with his before they bounced back to the floor, at her feet.

  A heavy weight settled on his shoulders. Still inside the day room, Amanda organized the photos, on the table, into one neat stack as if they would shatter if she moved any faster.