Chapter 16
SIXTEEN
The heat the next morning was slightly less aggressive than yesterday, but it was still quite humid.
It accentuated Amanda’s headache from a horrible night’s sleep, but neither the weather nor pain was going to hold her back.
She walked into Central ready to tackle whatever came her way.
If Spencer had killed Christine, she had confidence in herself to see this through.
She dropped behind her desk and found a to-go cup from Hannah’s Diner there, along with a sticky note.
Figured you’d appreciate the coffee. We have a search warrant for Spencer’s house. You can meet me there, if you wish. Trent.
The sentiment was nice, but she didn’t appreciate he felt the need to coddle her. Not that she had it in her to turn down a Hannah’s coffee. A free one, at that.
She got up, taking the coffee she’d brought in and the new one, and headed toward the station’s lot. There are worse things than double-fisting Hannah’s…
“Detective Steele,” Malone called out, stopping her steps.
She turned around to see him curling his finger at her in a come here motion. She took a steadying breath and followed him to his office.
Malone sat at his desk just as she cleared the doorway. “Shut the door.”
She did as he directed. When she woke up that morning, she expected she couldn’t put off a conversation with Malone for long. She had just hoped it was after another coffee or two. She set the two cups on his desk.
He pointed at the coffees. “One for me?”
“You can have this one.” She pointed at the one Trent bought her. “It’s black, so you can add your milk and sugar.”
Malone gave her the flicker of a smile. “I shouldn’t. Too much caffeine, my heart starts pounding and my stomach turns to acid.”
Amanda was smarter than to suggest it might have to do with his age.
“I’m guessing you didn’t get a good night’s sleep,” Malone said.
“Not really.” She’d leave it at that.
“How are you feeling this morning?”
“Better than last night.” Not exactly enthusiastic sounding, but it was what she could muster.
“Glad to hear it. Trent’s over at Spencer’s right now with a couple CSIs, executing a search warrant.”
“He left me a note to join him.”
“Depending on what we find there, we’ll determine if a warrant for his financials is supported.”
“To see if we can confirm the purchase of a tarp and rope?”
“Precisely. Spencer’s DNA and prints have also been collected and forwarded to the lab.”
“Trent got a warrant approved for that?”
“Nope, he ended up convincing Spencer to volunteer it.”
“Oh. Wow. He sounded dead set against it last night.”
“I think he wants this all over with, sooner than later.”
He’s not the only one… Just knowing was better than existing in limbo. But they were at the mercy of the lab while they waited for the ballistics testing to be done.
“There is no shame in backing out of this case, Amanda. No one would blame you.”
“I’m fine, Scott. I promise.” She didn’t dredge out her sergeant’s given name often, but his concern felt personal.
“Should that change, I want you to let me know.”
“I will,” she told him and stood. “How’s your back, by the way?”
“I’ve got an appointment with your chiropractor this morning. I’ll let you know.”
She nodded. “Are you sure you don’t want the coffee?” She hadn’t missed how he’d continued to ogle it when he thought she wasn’t looking. With her calling him out, he didn’t bother trying to hide the fact. “Here, take it.” Amanda lifted the fresh one from Trent and gifted it to him.
“Thanks. Hannah’s is the best.”
“No argument here.” She smiled at him as she left his office, but the expression was brief.
Emma Blair came through the doors and stormed down the hallway toward her. Spencer must have called his mother at some point overnight or had his lawyer notify her.
“How dare you drag my son in like a criminal,” she roared.
Amanda’s cheeks heated. The accusation wasn’t much of a surprise, but the ambush was jolting. “Emma, please, listen to me.” She reached out to touch the investigator’s shoulder, but she drew back and held up her hands.
“Please, keep your hands off me.”
There was no way Amanda could postpone this conversation. It didn’t matter how much she would have liked to join Trent at Spencer’s house and get on with following the evidence to wherever it led. “I think we should talk.”
“What you should do is release my son,” Emma spat.
Amanda wasn’t doing this here in front of an audience. She gestured for Emma to follow her and took her to a soft interview room. It was normally used for questioning victims or their families. Once inside, she shut the door behind them.
Emma remained standing while Amanda sat on the couch.
“You’re just going to sit there?” Emma said with heat.
“It seems you have things to say to me.”
“You bet I do. You arrested him? He didn’t do this.”
“There haven’t been any charges laid against him, but he is a person of interest—”
“A suspect you are holding in a cell.”
“Which we are within our right to do.”
Emma huffed out a breath.
“We follow the evidence, and if he’s innocent, more will turn up that leads us away from him.”
“Leads you away…?” Emma dropped into a chair.
“It pains me that we’re here, Emma, trust me. But what we have so far doesn’t look good for him.”
“Then you’re not looking at it right. I’ll have you know I called your father during the night, asking him to talk some sense into you, but he wants to stay out of this. He says he trusts you to do the right thing. Now you’re telling me to trust you. How can I?”
The question stung. It superseded the fact that Blair had gone to her father. That was crossing a line no matter which way one viewed it. “I’ve never given you a reason to doubt that you can.”
“Not until now. Just let my son go, Amanda. Catch the real killer.”
Amanda shook her head. “You know I can’t release him at this point.”
“Because you think he did this.”
“It doesn’t matter what I think.”
“What do you have on him?”
“You know I can’t tell you that.”
Emma scrunched up her face into an ugly mask. “Doesn’t it bother you, at all, that while he’s in a cell, the killer is out there free?”
“Emma, I’ve told you all I can, but you must know that I’m just following where the evidence takes me.”
Emma’s shoulders sagged. “Then you’re either on the wrong trail, or someone is framing him.”
“He lied to us.” It was the only thing that Amanda was comfortable disclosing.
Emma stiffened. “No, that’s a lie.”
“It’s not.”
“My son isn’t a liar.”
“He held back information from us, Emma.”
“If he did, I’m sure he had his reasons.”
It was clear no amount of talking would break down the walls of defense Emma had erected around her son. “I’m sorry that you can’t see my side in this, and for how you feel…” Like I’m the enemy… untrustworthy… “But I need to go. Please let me do my job.”
“Amanda, if you have any doubts, and I mean any, let him go. You owe it to him to see this through.” Emma left the room.
I owe it to him…? She wasn’t sure why. He was the product of an affair, an only child, alienated from his birth father, but how was any of that Amanda’s fault?
She sat there, staring after Emma, hot tears filling her eyes.
She was quaking from the storm that moved in, assaulted, and beat her.
All she was endeavoring to do was her job.
She wasn’t naive to think it would win her any popularity contests, but when it rallied against the personal like now it was hell.
No shame in backing out…
Malone’s words resurfaced, but surrendering wasn’t part of her makeup. She’d dig so deep that when this case was closed, the guilty would be behind bars. Even if that was Spencer.