Aftermath (39 page)

“He saw my baby...my Paige.”

“When?”

A flash of something ripped across the other woman
’
s features. Had her squeezing her eyes tight. “At the park.”

What? “Recently?”

The metal groaned again, a piercing scrape that was worse than nails on chalkboard. Camelia
’
s eyes took on a glassy hue, her breathing labored. Her hips slowly met the ground as if she were an infant leaving the birth canal.

“A.J.” Distress crept into Robinson
’
s voice. “We gotta go.”

“One minute.” To Camelia, she said, “What park?”

“Not a minute.” His voice was harsh. “Now.”

“When you find her, give her this.” The other woman shoved something cold and metallic into her palm, her gaze losing focus. Her fingers limp.

Robinson
’
s shout mingled with Davis
’
and a few others, but Amanda kept her focus on Camelia. “I need more details—”

The iron above them gave a lurch. And shifted downward. Amanda clenched her eyes tight. And then she was yanked backward. She tried to find purchase on Camelia
’
s sleeve, but found air instead.

The flesh of her forearms scraped against the gravel and glass. Pain radiated upward as she cleared the underbelly. A loud crash of metal against pavement filled the air as the vehicles dropped to the concrete.

No. She scrambled to her knees. Gripped the edge of the metal and tried to lift three tons of steel without success. Her shoe slipped on the pavement. She hit the ground hard.

It was too late. She never should have waited.

She pounded on the mangled vehicles.

She should have listened to instinct and come running. If she had...

Two hands jerked Amanda into a standing position. Her body met the solid wall of Robinson
’
s chest as his arms wound around her. Warm lips found a bare piece of flesh at the juncture of her neck and shoulder, the scent of laundry soap and spicy aftershave staving off the stench of death around them.

“Breathe. You did everything you could.” Beneath her hands, his body vibrated as if she
’
d left him in the cold, alone.

No. She clenched her eyes shut. Tightened her grip on him. Felt the item in her hand gouge into skin. Tears stung her eyes.

Some risks were worth taking.

If she
’
d have been sooner...

___

GUILT WEIGHED HEAVIER than a three ton anchor.

The play of it slash across his wife
’
s face. The heavy emotion broke through Robinson
’
s armor and rested in his chest, like a punk with a spray can and fresh wall space. But unlike a seasoned gang member, this kid didn
’
t understand what activities would ensure he got away unscathed. And he was currently using the most rickety scaffolding known to man.

Vibrating his entire body.

Camelia Jurik
’
s still, unrecognizable frame didn
’
t help. It could
’
ve been Amanda.

Get it together, buddy.

Next to him, Amanda fingered something in her palm. Her gaze jumped from the paramedics, who hauled the deceased woman to the waiting ambulance, and the boy still sitting on the edge of the road.

Detective Brink stood near the teen, a menacing tower over the boy’s hunched figure and downcast head.

Davis lingered between where they stood, near the wreckage, and Brink. She hadn’t moved since Amanda had coldly dismissed her casual concern—and her person in general—ten minutes ago. A sour look covered her face.

If they weren
’
t surrounded by emergency personnel and Amanda’s coworkers, Robinson would have held Amanda longer. Carted her off of this scene.

Tended to the scrapes on her arms. And for once, taken some time to let them both catch their breaths.

He
’
d give anything to erase the last twenty minutes, which only proved how deep he
’
d been shaken in his never-take-back-moments-mantra. Two more seconds under those vehicles...

He flexed his jaw. Chased away thoughts of her demise.

“How you holding up, Nettles?”

Her gaze flicked to his, the lights around them highlighting the amber color of her irises. “What are you doing here? I thought you were staying with Lilly and Ariana.”

Well, then. So much for returning to hero status. Or that fictitious breather.

She ran a hand over her face and pinched the bridge of her nose. “That came out wrong.”

He clenched his jaw. Scanned the area again and came up with the same awful scene. Mangled metal. Injuries. Death. One kid who
’
d have the memory color his future forever. “Uh-huh.”

Amanda turned toward him, anguish splashed across her features. Before she could open her mouth, a shout caught their attention. It came from the direction the boy sat. Except he was standing and Brink had a fistful of the kid
’
s shirt in his hands.

“What are you doing?” Davis reached Brink
’
s side and tried to pry his fingers from the teen
’
s clothing. Wide eyes stared back from a pale face. Streaks covered those cheeks.

“Is that Hunter?” Amanda shifted. “Ariana
’
s friend?”

Robinson and Amanda moved to the scene almost as one.

Brink shrugged Davis off. “Stay out of this, Charlie.”

The force knocked her off balance and over the curb, her feet tangling beneath her. Amanda steadied her partner before she hit the ground.

Murder flashed in deep green eyes and over the red appearing on her face as she righted herself. She brushed the edge of her slacks. “Let him go.” She ground out. “He
’
s just a kid.”

Brink had both hands on the boy, now, and lifted him upward so his toes were the only thing touching the curb. “He got a woman killed tonight. His actions qualify him as a man.”

Hunter shook his head. Tears followed in the dried tracks their predecessors had left behind. “I didn
’
t know she was behind me.” A gasp came from the boy
’
s mouth. “Honest. I was just trying to get away. She asked me some questions. Then dragged me here.”

Before Brink could shake the teen, Robinson stepped up and placed a hand on the detective
’
s shoulder. Applied pressure no one would know about unless the other man screamed like a little girl. “How about we treat him like a man then. Instead of an animal.”

The other man
’
s gaze swung to him, something dark and hateful lingering. “Last time I checked, you weren’t on the precinct payroll, Robinson.”

Even though every cell in his body wanted to deck the detective, Robinson held still. Pretended his words had little meaning. “If I was, you’d never know about it.”

Brink’s gaze flicked to the people around him, then came back to Robinson.

“It
’
s been a pretty trying day for everyone. Including him.” Robinson pointed toward Hunter.

Brink lowered him, but didn
’
t let go. “He
’
s gonna run off again, before we can question him.”

Robinson tried a friendly smile. “Hunter, right?”

“Y-yes, sir.”

“Detective Brink is gonna let you free. As of right now, you
’
re not in trouble. You will be if you try to run. Understood?”

He nodded. Brink mumbled something incoherent under his breath and released the boy. Then brushed past Robinson. As if Amanda and Davis had a communicable disease, he gave both detectives a wide berth and stomped toward the precinct.

Hunter adjusted his shirt. Ran the back of his hand under his nose. “She cornered me after baseball practice. Said she was looking for any information about Paige Jurik. The teachers, at school, told us she moved. Her dad got some job in Raleigh. And before that, she got into a fight with Susie Kane.”

“That doesn
’
t explain why Mrs. Jurik dragged you down here.” Amanda stepped into view, her arms crossed and face stern.

Hunter shifted. Took a swallow. “I mentioned seeing Paige come out of a wooded area at Mountain Creek Nature Center last fall. Jackman Trail.”

The class had gone on the trip in early October. Robinson remembered signing the permission slip amidst all the last minute wedding details. “Was she with anyone?”

The teen shook his head. His gaze flicked to the car being lifted onto a tow truck. Then jumped back to them. “But I saw Keith Cooke come down the same path five or ten minutes later. Most of us were in groups of five or six, wandering around after we
’
d eaten lunch. Waiting for the next part of the tour to begin.”

So, it wouldn
’
t have been unusual for someone to wander off. “Can anyone corroborate your story? Anybody else see her?”

“I don
’
t know.” He shrugged. “I remember mentioning it to Ariana and Kate.” He paused. Picked at a scab near his elbow. “Is Ariana okay? She hasn
’
t been in school. And neither has Kate.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

Journal Entry #131

Age: 15

EVERYONE BELIEVES I ran away. That I packed my bags and left home over some spat I had with my mother. Stupid teenage drama I’ll eventually get over and realize was a pathetic cry for attention.

Sure, I wanted her attention, but not for something as silly as a later curfew or more clothes or a change in the household rules. No. I wanted her to listen.

Really listen. For once.

My drama is real. Dana is real. And is still missing after three months. And no one even seems to care about it. Not Larry Catsky, who should be outraged a family has been murdered under his watch and their child out there somewhere.

Not my mother who insists maybe I’ll learn my lesson this time. As if the fact that she’s letting the state place me in another foster home will better my chances for a productive future. As if she’s done me a favor in convincing some stupid judge to place me with a family that routinely takes problem children.

Makes them model citizens or some crap. As if that sort of thing happens overnight.

She didn’t plead with tears over my wellbeing. That my place was with her. Or even looked pained that I’d been gone. Didn’t wonder about her parenting skills or lack of. Just shook her head as if she’d tried everything in her power to settle me down.

What she was really worried about was the Porterville name. The long legacy of doctors ruined on one colossal mistake.

I doubt the Nettles’ family will see anything different. And I don’t care. I’m going to find my friend. Going to do what the authorities should be doing.

I’ll figure out what happened, if it’s the last thing I do.

___

SHE’D BEEN MISSING around twenty-seven hours. And sick with the stomach flu before that.

It seemed like something someone on the school board, and in general knowledge of their students, would know. Yet, this morning Sam had given no indication that any child within Hershel Junior high was in jeopardy.

He hadn
’
t given them anything useful. And if he
’
d known about Kate
’
s disappearance earlier in the day...

Amanda adjusted the dome light, inside Robinson
’
s vehicle, and scanned the pages in front of her. Tried to drown out the last few hours. First with Cam—

She sucked in a breath. Put it as far out of her mind as possible. Hoped to still the swirl in her stomach and focus on the fact that Kate was missing.

And her parents had the same story they all did.

No witnesses. No struggle. But a missing child, the same, right from under their noses. Bleary-eyed parents about to come apart at the seams.

Beside her, Robinson flicked his blinker harder than necessary and turned down the cul-de-sac where Keith Cooke
’
s family resided. He hadn
’
t said more than necessary since they
’
d rescued Hunter from Brink.

Robinson
’
s questions to Kate
’
s parents were few and terse.

And Amanda hadn’t pushed the issue, because all she could see was Camelia Jurik—or what was left of her—and the complete waste.

What are you doing here?