Aftermath (27 page)

He gripped the tool in his hand harder than needed. It flew from the bolt and landed inches from his head.

“You okay?”

“Perfect.” Minus one—he didn’t even have a word for it—sister and a slew of other issues. What had Lilly been thinking this morning, calling the hospital? And why had he assumed a little laughter meant anything good?

He’d avoided thinking about it all day. Hadn’t gone to check on Ariana and Lilly, because he wasn’t ready for confrontation. He picked up the wrench and started in again.

“Sounds real convincing, Robbie. What did you say this morning? Oh. A for effort.”

Should’ve known that would come back to him. “Long day.”

And it only promised to get worse. He imagined his sister’s response to the questions he intended to get to the bottom of later tonight.

Amanda shifted, her drink clasped in both hands, between her knees. Gnawed on her bottom lip. “Whatever you need me to do, you got it.”

Shock blasted through his system and made him pause. He’d expected a bunch of questions. “It’s risky. Unofficial. Could get messy and is exactly the kind of thing that doesn’t constitute as toeing the line. Not on Dentzen’s approved list of activities. Certainly not IA. Some might call it a wild goose chase.”

She shook her head. “They really have no say in what I do with my personal time. No one is gonna bat an eye at the thought of me babysitting an injured SBI agent and one thirteen-year-old girl.”

“That’s a non-issue. Every speck of evidence you collect that might aid us in finding those men, will be something that doesn’t fall under your specific jurisdiction.”

Hesitation slid into her eyes. The kind that wouldn’t have been present two years ago. “It’ll be under yours. And it’s not like we’ll be investigating something another precinct isn’t. The SBI is investigating it, too. You heard Agent Kendall at the meeting this morning. He wants any answers regarding Jonas’ assault and he doesn’t care how he comes across them.”

All well and good for the SBI agent. Amanda? Not so much.

“You know, as well as I do, that they’ll have to start as if there’s no connection between his assault and Kimberly’s murder. Finding the trail is too messy otherwise.”

“Do you want my help?” Her eyebrows merged together. “Because, it sort of sounds like you’re trying to run me off.”

His eyes met hers and held. “I just want to be clear.”

“Fine.” She pressed her lips together, the single word clipped. “You’re clear. Absolved of any misrepresentation.”

“A.J.” He scooted out from under the bed and came face to face with her. A hint of her flowery scent drifted toward him.

“What if we already found the connection?”

“We need more than the diary of a thirteen-year-old girl. And her mom insisting she didn’t run away.”

She sipped her beer. “The diary is one small part. I’m talking about the fact that Paige has been missing for six months as of yesterday, run away or not.”

“She’s not fourteen.”

“That’s only a theory. Not a proven angle.”

What she couldn’t say—what nobody wanted to think about—was that they wouldn’t know if anything they had was correct until one of three things happened. Another girl went missing. Another girl turned up dead. Or they found evidence this guy had overlooked. Everybody wanted the latter. Chances were they’d see more of the former first.

It didn’t sit well.

“The only thing linking Kimberly, Denise and Nancy are the bazaar circumstances of their disappearances and age. They don’t look the same. Aren’t the same height. Don’t live in the same towns or attend the same activities. Never even had the possibility of knowing each other. But here’s something I discovered after our meeting this morning. Kimberly is the oldest of three. Denise is an only child. And Nancy is—”

“The oldest of X number of children.” He hooked an arm around his bent knee and leaned close enough to graze his lips over hers, but hung back. “So, you reconfigured the search?”

“I’ve got about six piles. All different criteria. Only a handful fit into all of them.”

“Let me guess. Our three girls.”

She nodded.

“And two or three more faces from the pile this morning. Give or take.”

A puff of breath left her lips, a semi-scoff and half-laugh in the making. “Paige is an only child. Has a May birthday and—”

“I know.” He’d discovered a great deal about this girl already. Had never dug for information so quickly in his life. Knew she liked football and baseball, ran track, could paint a sunset blindfolded and with one color and was a complete daddy’s girl. Her favorite subjects were science and math. She’d skipped first grade—and almost second as well—which made her considerably younger than her peers.

The kid was an honor roll student and active in several student body clubs. Was a near mirror image to the woman standing in front of him. And it had thrown him for a moment. “She’s also adopted.”

Worry appeared in Amanda’s eyes. “I’m starting to think I should find a new career. I’m losing it and I—”

“Because you believe this girl is your biological niece?” He shook his head. “You’re not losing it. I’d rather work with half of your talent and passion, than anybody else in the field, Jordan and McKenna included.”

Amanda rolled her eyes. “Laying it on thick, again.”

“No.” He held her gaze. “The power of suggestion is strong, but there’s a good chance this girl could be the gap between what happened to Jonas and the other girls.”

“Or it could be nothing and we’ve wasted time.” She rubbed shaky fingers over an eyebrow and continued moving them to her temple.

“You don’t mean that.” He pulled her hand from her face and cupped her cheek, a sense of rightness flooding him. They’d been through so much, together, the relationship unlike any he’d ever had. With Amanda, he wanted everything to be perfect.

Still wanted that, but knew it didn’t exist. He could only put his best foot forward and pray for unparalleled results.

Her hand found his. “No. I don’t. I’m trying to see the bigger picture, for once.”

“You always do.”

She started to shake her head. Another byproduct of IA and the past.

He placed his other palm against the opposite cheek. Stopped the motion. “You do. Don’t make me break out in an idiotic song and dance to get your attention. You know what you’re doing. You always have. So, unless you want me to get my tap shoes out…”

Her lips quirked upward a fraction. “Mm-hmm, you don’t even have a pair, do you?”

“Test me and find out, Nettles.”

“Do I get to pick the song?”

A laugh rumbled through him as he dropped his hands. “You really shouldn’t let Miss Sass take vacation.”

“Why not? You’d probably like the stand in much better.”

“Doubt it.”

Her gaze dropped and then zipped back up. The pulse at her neck picked up speed. “So, now would be a bad time to admit there’s a naive twenty-year-old lurking beneath my skin and working like a heroin addict to break free for permanent residence?”

“Depends. Is the twenty-year-old you impulsive and sassy with just enough in-your-face attitude to have a person over thinking every move?”

A slow smile showed white teeth. “Maybe add a little false invincibility to that list.”

“If you get to be younger, so do I. And, fair warning, I was even more dashingly handsome at twenty-eight than I am now. You don’t stand a chance.” He swiped the beer in her hand and sipped it.

“Hey.” She made a grab for it, but he pulled it out of reach. “First the couch. My coffee. Now my beer. You’re walking a dangerous line, Robbie. What’s next?”

All of her. Heart, mind, body and soul. “It’s a mystery. And we all know you can’t resist a good one.”

A soft, but tired smile lit her face. And then she snatched her drink back. “And this is a bad thing?”

“No.” It was what made this woman so good at her job. She listened to intuition when others didn’t. Never stopped searching for answers when the road got too bumpy. Anybody who knew her, even a little, could see that.

While it benefited anyone who needed her help, it also made her an easy target for those who wished her harm.

The whole reason he was sitting in this room popped into his mind. Without one crazy letter, he wouldn’t be here at all. Wouldn’t be teasing this woman. Finally talking after months of silence.

Another problem Amanda couldn’t solve easily. He stilled. The simple letter was never meant for him or Jonas. “It was meant for you.”

Beth had to have anticipated Amanda shredding the contents. If he hadn’t been nearby this morning, he doubted the woman next to him would have opened the envelope. It had been written all over her tight stance and unmoving frame. And a gaze that encompassed only the stationary item.

Would Beth have anticipated both Robinson and Jonas agreeing they should talk Amanda into joining their ranks? Were these girls that important? Or would they fall into a hidden agenda?

“What?” One eyebrow hitched higher than the other on her forehead. “You’re giving me the I’ve-got-a-surprise-and-you-won’t-like-it face.”

“I am?”

She gave a slow nod.

“Three weeks ago, Jonas and I received separate, but identical letters about Kimberly and Denise’s cases. Details that linked them. Age, type of disappearance and so forth. Very sterile. Just facts. Not much else. Everything you’ve been talking about.”

She shifted away from him. Confusion marred her face, dread pulling up behind eyes that leveled on him and held. “From?”

The minute he said the words, everything would change. He should’ve trekked up to Raleigh and demanded answers. And instead, he and Jonas had figured Beth’s letters were nothing more than a bored mind at work. Mixed with a bit of luck.

And the girls
were
missing, so did it matter where the basic information had come from?

“Just spit it out. Don’t hold out on me.”

“It came from Raleigh.”

She stilled. Then shook her head. Stood so fast, she almost knocked him over. “Please, don’t say Beth sent you something.” Confusion turned to agony. “Lie if you have to.”

He stood. Resisted touching her. “A.J.”

She folded her arms across her chest, her fingers braced tight on either bicep. Something wet glittered in her eyes, turning them to a deep molasses. A flash of anger within them dared him to come up with anything that could explain this. As if
he’d
made the contact.

He ground his back molars together. She’d have to sit tight and listen, because he’d never done anything to warrant her suspicion. Beth had ruined his life, too.

Pointing it out didn’t do any good.

A heavy breath came through her lips. “Let me get this straight. She wrote you a letter about a possible case and you, what? Jumped right in?”

Never. And Amanda should know it. He ran a hand across his face. Willed his boiling blood to slow. Braced his hands on his hips. “I opened it. Read it and then threw it away. Didn’t bother giving it another thought. And then Nancy went missing. And I couldn’t ignore it. Believe me, I wanted to, but it wasn’t—isn’t about me.”

Amanda gnawed on her bottom lip, her gaze on something behind him. One of her hands flexed on her bicep and then tightened right back in. “Have you ever read her journal?” The words were forced, as if she didn’t want to ask the question but couldn’t risk not knowing.

He rubbed his neck. He’d seen bits and pieces. Enough to know her childhood hadn’t been easy. It didn’t excuse her actions. “A few pages, sure.”

“I kept a copy, but couldn’t bring myself to read it.” That amber gaze landed on him, then. “What I don’t know can’t hurt me. If I don’t find dysfunction and neglect, I don’t have to deal with sympathy that is both unnecessary and too late. I don’t have to envision every person harmed. See shock on people’s faces when they mistake me for her. It’s just meaningless words on pages that will eventually be forgotten.”

Not if it ever left the hands of law enforcement officials. It was only human nature to want to see inside the mind of a killer. To embrace the burning question of why. To understand how anyone could shed humanity so easily. And answers—no matter the type—would never satisfy.

“But I’m not stupid. And I know this won’t ever be over. Not until the events are a tiny blip in a history book. Discussed by classes and mulled over by people, so far removed, they’ll romanticize every second.” Moisture gathered in her eyes. “So, when she reaches out, in any manner, it pisses me off. Makes me want to go up there and drag her to the execution chamber, where I can inject the drugs myself.”

The weight of her words settled in the space between them. And then jabbed through the center of him. What did he say to that? Did he admit he’d had similar thoughts he hadn’t let take root?

What good would it do?

The question never stopped. Just played on repeat in his mind whenever the past jumped up and took a bite out of him.

She pressed her lips together. Let out a stilted breath. A tear spilled over the edge of one eyelid.