“Couldn’t it,” he agreed.
“Maybe Palmer was going to fence the items, somewhere, somehow. He probably made some ‘friends’ while he was in prison.”
“Leopards don’t change their spots, as they say.”
“Something like that.”
“Well, we find the car and we might get more answers. Maybe Palmer had done something with the goods, someone wasn’t happy and killed him.”
“I don’t know.” She saw it as a possibility. Trent’s words “we find the car” reminded her she’d missed filling him in. “I forgot to tell you I already had a be-on-the-lookout issued for a powder-blue Caprice.”
“Okay.”
“We’ll also need to get a warrant for the surveillance camera from the Happy Time bar. Do you think you could manage the paperwork on that?”
“Of course.”
She set the bracelet on her desk and stared at it as if she could just zap it for its history and value. She really needed some sleep! The first twenty-four hours of a case could be killer at the best of times. She glanced at the clock on the wall. It was after nine thirty at night.
She’d lost track of how long she’d been up, and she was pretty sure the last time she’d eaten had been just before the autopsy that morning.
She tinkered with the bracelet, flipping it over in her hands.
What are your secrets? Do you have any?
She ran her fingertips over the links and stopped at the clasp. Took a closer look.
What the—
She held it up and twisted it in the light to confirm her eyes weren’t playing a trick on her, but there was something tucked into the clasp. It was silver in color, but it wasn’t an actual part of the bracelet. She put her fingertip on top of it and applied just the smallest bit of pressure. Out popped the teeniest data chip she’d ever seen.
“Trent!” She held up the chip pinched between two gloved fingers.
He looked at her over the partition. “What is that?”
“I think we might have just found out what’s so valuable about this bracelet.” She smirked, feeling validated for following her instincts. Her dad had always told her instinct and intuition helped make the cop.
She shot to her feet, Trent trailing her.
“Where are you going?”
“I’m going to get this to Digital Forensics, and you, well… get the paperwork for the warrant started and go home, get some rest, and we’ll catch up in the morning.”
For the first time in this case, she really felt like they were getting somewhere.
Twenty-Five
The department that handled tech, such as phones and computers, was the Digital Forensics unit under the Property Crimes Bureau. They were housed in the Eastern Police District Station, a two-story redbrick building, also in Woodbridge, and located on the curve of a residential street.
The place closed to civilians off the street at five, but she had the number for a detective she’d worked with numerous times in the past. He’d been assigned the evening shift and told her to show up and call him again once she got there and he’d let her in. She was at the front doors and just put her phone to her ear when he stuck his head out.
“Detective Steele.”
She smiled and headed over to him. “Do I have something for you.”
“Fun, fun.” Detective Jacob Briggs loved his job just about as much as Rideout loved his. Jacob was a middle-aged man with a slight paunch and a full head of brown hair. His most arresting feature by far was his contagious smile.
He led her through the hallways to his office and turned to her. “What do you have?”
She extended the bracelet to him, which was inside an evidence bag. “I’m really hoping you can tell me.”
“Well…” He stepped back, angled his head this way and that. “Looks like a bracelet to me.”
“Very funny.”
“Okay, hand it over, let me have a look.” He snapped on a pair of gloves.
She did as he requested, and he withdrew the bracelet and set it on the bag.
“All right, when you called you said there was a data chip?” He looked at her, brows pinched.
“Look in the clasp.” She’d put it back there for safekeeping.
“All righty.” Jacob worked the bracelet. “Aaaah. Here we go.” He grinned at her, then proceeded to hold the chip to the light. “Tiny little thing.”
“Yeah, I’m hoping you have something that you can stick it in to find out what’s on it.”
“You’ve always had such a way with words. But, yeah, I have something I can stick it in.”
He dropped into his chair and pulled out a laptop. He pointed to a small port on the side. “It should fit in there nicely.” He powered up the computer and put the chip into the port he’d indicated. “We should know in just a— Oh.”
“What?” She moved around to get a better view of the laptop screen. A pop-up window asked for the administrator password. “That can’t be good.”
“Whatever’s on there, someone took great lengths to protect it. I’ve seen this before, and sometimes I can hack in, but—” He paused and winced. “I hate to say it, but you’re going to have to leave this with me.”
“Can you just give it a go with me here? I’m not in a hurry.” Her curiosity trumped her exhaustion as her mind played over the possibilities. Maybe it contained a tracking and inventory of stolen goods.
“I can, but I can’t make any promises.”
She put a hand on his shoulder. “If anyone can crack this thing, it’s you.”
“I appreciate your confidence, but I suggest you get comfortable. Maybe even get yourself a coffee. I might be a—”
Her phone rang. “Sorry, just one second,” she said to Jacob. Her caller ID read, Tipsy Moose. “I have to get this.”
“Take your time. I’m going to be a while likely.” Jacob pulled a book out of a drawer and flipped its pages as she answered her phone.
“This is Amanda.”
“Hey. Your boyfriend just showed up.”
Her heartbeat tapped a little faster at the thought of seeing Motel Guy again. It would have been far easier if she didn’t have to. After all, that would mean no complications, entanglements, or explanations.
“You there?” her caller prompted.
“I am. Ah, thanks.”
“Uh-huh. You coming?”
She looked at Jacob who was now chewing on a pencil, tapping his foot, and clicking on the keyboard, lines of code on the screen.
“I’ll be right there.” She hung up. “I’ve got to go somewhere,” she told Jacob, who carried on being Jacob.
Amanda spotted Motel Guy’s black Dodge Ram in the Tipsy Moose’s parking lot and parked a few slots away.
She undid her seat belt and it caught on her badge.
Can’t be taking you in there with me, she thought, and unclipped it and put it in the glove box, along with her Glock and holster.
Inside, she spotted the bartender from earlier in the day. He pointed across the room, and she followed the direction of his finger. Motel Guy was in a booth, drinking alone.
Thanks, she mouthed to the tender. She smoothed a hand over her hair and headed over.
She slipped in across from Motel Guy. Suddenly she found her heart was pounding and she felt self-conscious. Her face would be a mess of freckles thanks to her Scottish lineage, but it wasn’t like she’d had time to refresh her makeup before coming here. Besides, she wasn’t here to pick the guy up again—she just needed him to provide a little statement to her boss.
Motel Guy looked up, eyes wide, mouth slightly agape. Shock followed by a flash of irritation. “What are you doing here?” He turned his rocks glass in his hand.
She gestured toward his drink. “No beer tonight?”
“Are you stalking me?”
She glanced over at the bartender. He was watching them and smiled at her. Had he told Motel Guy about their arrangement?
“I’m not stalking you,�
� she hissed, “but I do need to talk to you.”
“Didn’t think you wanted to talk at all. One night, that’s all you wanted. No names, no strings.” He swept a hand across the table and almost upset his glass. He covered by lifting it for a drink.
“I’ve changed my mind.” She was prepared to say anything if it got her alibi. As she took in his features, her heart and stomach lurched like she had crested a hill on a roller coaster. A rogue strand of his blond hair fell in front of his left eye. She had to fight the urge not to tuck it out of the way. “What’s going on with you tonight?”
“None. Of. Your. Business.” Every word slurred. Business sounding like it was spelled with Zs. “’Sides,” he went on, “women like you don’t want anything more. You told me so yourself.” He slurped his drink.
She stiffened. The man who had been so confident last night was crumbling before her eyes, but she didn’t have time for his wounded ego to take center stage. “Fine, maybe I haven’t changed my mind.” She wasn’t sure where maybe came from but continued. “But something’s come up and I need your help.”
“Mighty convenient. You know I came here even though I thought I might run into you. I told myself that would be okay. I mean, so what if we slept together.”
His voice rose and projected, and she sank in the booth.
“What? You’re embarrassed of me now?”
He got this little indent in his brow that she wanted to dip a fingertip in. Whatever was weighing on his mind, it likely had nothing to do with her or their night together. He was facing his own demons.
“Not embarrassed at all,” she said calmly. “But if you would just let me talk to—”
“No. We had an arrangement. You set up the terms and I only live by them. Just like every other woman on the planet has their rules.”
So he was drinking because of some woman…
He pulled out his phone and tapped away at the screen. A few seconds later, he pocketed it and exchanged it for his glass, which he raised in a toast gesture then shot back. “Night.” He got up and stumbled toward the door.
“Where are you going? You’ve been drinking.” She hurried behind him. For a drunk guy he could move.
“Just ordered a cab. Bye-bye.” He swung the bar’s door open and stepped outside.
She couldn’t force him to stay and talk to her or even be civil for that matter. But if she didn’t get her alibi ironed out then she was screwed.
The door started to close, and she slapped it with so much force it flew back at her. “Ugh. Can’t we just talk like adults?” she called out to him.
He turned. “Not feeling much like talkin’, but if you’re interested in something else.”
“I’ll pass.”
“Not what you said last night.”
She’d only been with him for one night, and she didn’t really know him, but she liked to think she was a better judge of character than this. “Listen, I don’t know what the hell your problem is, but I need you to shut up and hear what I have to say.”
He stepped toward her; she stepped back. Still, his towering height of six-foot-something was overwhelming to her five-nine frame.
“Fine. Go ahead,” he told her.
“I need you to testify that we were together last night.”
“No need to deny it. It was good.” He winked at her. “But it was a one-night special.”
“Let this sink in,” she said slowly. “I need you as my alibi.”
“Alibi?” The corner of his lips curved. “Someone’s been a naughty girl.”
“Oh, please stop. You’re not as charming as you think you are,” she snapped. “You’re actually a real ass when you’re drunk.”
His eyes met hers and she felt a twinge of regret for speaking her mind.
“And I haven’t done anything wrong,” she said. “That’s why I need you to come forward and confirm that we were together last night.”
“How much detail is needed?”
“You’re impossible to talk to right now.”
“Let’s not talk then. Nighty-night— Oh, looks like my cab’s here anyway. Saved by the cab.” He laughed at his own joke and walked toward the yellow taxi that had pulled into the lot.
“Unbelievable!” she said to the night air, and apparently a couple headed into the bar, as both looked at her. “Never mind. Just the boyfriend’s driving me mad,” she told them.
They barely acknowledged her, but Amanda could have sworn she saw the woman roll her eyes as she nestled closer to her date.
Amanda stood there with her arms crossed. This ridiculous interaction had driven home why she only had one-night stands. It meant she didn’t have to deal with impossible man-babies who carted around their own emotional baggage.
Malone would just have to accept she couldn’t pin down her alibi. No matter what she’d face at his hands, it couldn’t be as bad as what had just transpired here. And maybe she’d get removed from the case and have a way out of keeping her word. It had been what she’d wanted anyway, right? At least before the investigation got interesting with the bracelet and the data chip…
She stomped back to her car, chastising herself the entire way. She’d blown any chance of securing her alibi. She doubted Motel Guy would be returning to the Tipsy Moose anytime soon, especially if he viewed her as some crazy who couldn’t let go of their night together.
She stopped walking. She was right next to the bumper of Motel Guy’s Dodge Ram pickup.
She pulled out her phone, brought up the notepad app, and keyed in the license plate. “Got you, you son of a—” Her phone rang. It was Jacob.
“You got something?”
“Oh, yeah, and it’s not pretty.”
“What’s on it?”
“Spreadsheets, photos, tracking of bank-transfer confirmations.” Jacob sounded like he was chewing on bile. “Whoever this bracelet belonged to, Amanda, was or still is involved in sex trafficking. There’s hundreds of them, Mandy, and some of them are just babies—as young as six and seven.”
She put a hand on her stomach. “We’ve got to get Sex Crimes in the loop.” Amanda typically did her best to curtail her involvement in sex-related crimes; she preferred grisly murder scenes instead.
“They’ll be my next call.”
“Okay, keep me posted. But when could I take a look at what’s on there?” It was a path she felt necessary, though she wasn’t looking forward to it by any means.
“If you want to… I’m having nightmares tonight. But I’ll do my best to get everything loaded onto the mainframe tonight. Should be there come morning. I’ll text you once it is.”
“Thanks. Oh, and Jacob…” She went on to explain a bit about the history of the bracelet and how it had come into her hands, then said, “I realize the chain of evidence may be a little broken—”
“A little.”
“Yeah, well, I still want someone from Forensics to see if they can get any epithelial, possible DNA. We won’t be able to use any results to confirm ownership of the bracelet in court, but it could point us in the right direction to evidence we can use.”
“We? You keep saying we. Sort of stuck on that. Aren’t you a lone wolf?”
She sighed. “Don’t get me started. Bye.”
There was little more she could do tonight. She highly doubted Freddy was aware of the bracelet’s chip and contents or he never would have handed it over so easily. Really the same went for Palmer, it occurred to her now. If he was involved in the ring, he wouldn’t have given the bracelet to Freddy.
She massaged her temple. This case was proving to be physically and mentally exhausting. She glanced back at the bar. She’d grab a couple of sliders to go and head home.
She scarfed the mini burgers as she drove and cracked her car’s windows, hoping the cold night air would wake her up and backed it by blaring some rock station out of Washington. But as exhausted as her body was, her mind was awake. At least she had something to help with that. She slipped her hand into he
r jacket pocket, as if to simply assure herself the baggie of pills was still there.
Her phone rang over the speaker, cutting out the music, and it jolted her and caused her to swerve slightly. Maybe she shouldn’t be driving, but it was too late to worry about that now. Besides, she’d be home soon.
She took a steadying breath, regained control, and looked at the display screen. Caller ID was blocked. Again, it could be Trent; it wasn’t like she’d had any time to add his number to her contacts yet.
She accepted the call. “Hello.”
Silence and deep breathing.
“Who are you?” The skin pricked on the back of her neck and she had this feeling she was being watched, even though she was barreling down the highway.
Silence.
Could it be Freddy or one of his crew harassing her, trying to scare her or intimidate her? The thought came and went. It wouldn’t make sense for it to be him. She’d had one of these calls before he’d been brought in and what would he have to gain from harassing her? Amusement? It could land his ass in jail.
“I’m a police detective,” she ground out. All her patience was gone, and with the latest revelation, she wasn’t in the mood to waste any time playing games. “Talk or stop call—”
Headlights were getting bigger in her rearview mirror as a vehicle quickly closed in on her bumper. Her heart hammered. Maybe someone had been watching her, the thought raising hairs all over her body.
The caller clicked off and her music came back on, but her focus was on the aggressive driver behind her. Was it her caller?
“Who are you, you son of a bitch?” she hissed, more bravado than true courage. She tapped the brake pedal—a potentially stupid and risky move.
In response, the vehicle swerved out and around her. The driver honked their horn as they passed.
“Jerk!” she yelled and looked at her speedometer. No wonder the drive was taking so long; she was barely putting along.
She pulled to the side of the road and collected her breath. What the hell was up with this person calling and doing nothing but breathing? Were they trying to freak her out? If so, it was working. Maybe it had nothing to do with Freddy, but maybe the owner of the bracelet somehow knew that she had it. Shivers ran through her. She really needed rest before her paranoia ran her off the road.
The Little Grave: A completely heart-stopping crime thriller (Detective Amanda Steele Book 1) Page 16
