“She’s not telling us the whole story,” Amelia said as she shut the car door. “And I have no idea why. Maybe she’s afraid, and we probably made her more so by telling her about the fingerprint. But there’s more there, I know it.”
“I agree,” Gabe said. “Did you notice how she had that little slip-up when you asked her if she knew anyone who might have had something to do with this? Her first thought was her father. Maybe we should start there?”
“It might be worth a shot,” Trent said. Even Amelia had to agree with that. “Her father is a bigshot mogul in the music business, her mother is a Nashville socialite. People with those kinds of connections, that much money, well, it’s much easier for them to hide dirty secrets.”
“I think we can dig them up.” Gabe smiled. “What do you think, Amelia?”
“I think I want to know everything there is to know about the Green family.”
Chapter Thirteen
Though Amelia often showed up late for work, when she was at work, she worked. She focused on her job. She wasn’t like many of her other coworkers who would mess around on social media and personal calls, and that made her particularly useful. It helped others overlook some of her other bad habits, as in so many other ways she was a vital part of the team.
Today was a little different, though. Amelia had to wait for Trent and Gabe to get back from pulling the case log and financial records of Brett Green, Emma’s father. Just a glance and they knew they’d hit the jackpot. Brett was a powerhouse music producer who had been suspected of money laundering, corruption, and a multitude of crimes over the years. He was very good at covering his tracks, but it was clear something sinister was going on. They just needed to get their hands on the evidence to nail him and maybe get a lead on their case.
It gave them all hope. Yet it was also depressing. Brett had been the first person Emma thought of when they asked if anyone close to her might have reason to want to harm her. Amelia suspected that Emma didn’t trust her father, and she didn’t even want to think about what the reason might be. But of course, as a detective, it was her job to think about it, to figure it out. She suspected Emma’s case was about to get a whole lot sadder, and her heart already hurt for the woman she’d shared such a tragic moment with.
Right now, there wasn’t a lot Amelia could do, though. She didn’t want to start on any other new leads when her time would be taken up by researching whatever the guys brought in anyway. So, she had a bit of free time. It wouldn’t be so bad if she just popped the flash drive into her computer and got a glance at what was hidden there.
She looked around. Made sure no one was near her, then stuck it in and opened the file. She held her breath as she clicked on it and leaned forward in her chair, anxious and not sure what to expect.
She sat back. From the first glance, it just appeared to hold her mother’s records. It was full of financial papers, leases, receipts, lists of charities and what their missions were, how much she gave and how often.
It made sense in a way. It was an odd place to hide such a thing, but Amelia had learned that her mother’s financial portfolio was much more extensive than she’d ever imagined. It was very much like her mother to ensure she had a key to understanding it all. She was grateful. She’d been unable to fully absorb everything when Everett had gone over it with her at the law office. This would help her understand it in her own time and process it all.
She spent about an hour looking through boring documents, about to give up. There was clearly nothing too pressing to see, and Trent and Gabe would be back soon. She did not want either of them to know what she’d been up to.
Before she closed it, though, something caught her eye. The last page of one of the receipts was a coded bunch of numbers and letters. She sat up again and really focused as she quickly looked through some of the other documents. Upon closer inspection, she realized that at least one page in each file was different.
So, there was something deeper to this flash drive. But what was it exactly? What was her mother trying to tell her?
She got a glimpse of the time. Decided to print some of the papers out to look over so Trent and Gabe wouldn’t come in and see what she was doing on her computer. She heard the printer starting to rumble just as Trent and Gabe walked in.
She quickly logged off the computer completely. Tried to look nonchalant. She wasn’t great at hiding stuff, though, even though she had made it her life’s mission to get better at that.
“How did it go?” she asked as Trent gave her an odd look. He glanced at the blank screen. She hoped with all her heart that he wouldn’t call her out in front of Gabe. “Get what we need?”
“I’ll say.” Gabe shook his head as he sat across from her. “We had to rent a moving truck just to get it all. This guy…I have no idea how he hasn’t been locked up already.”
“It’s all being logged into evidence now. We’re going to grab lunch, then start sifting through it. Are you going to join us?”
“Sure, I’ll be down in a few. I want to finish this up first, though.” She met Trent’s gaze, begging him not to say anything.
“Okay,” he said. “I’ll order something for you. Text us if you find something.”
Amelia nodded as they walked away and thanked her lucky stars that Trent was her best friend. She quickly finished up printing the documents, then shoved them to the back of her mind as she left to help Trent and Gabe.
Hours later, Gabe looked over at Amelia in that way that people do when they want to say something they’re not sure will go over well with everyone in the room. Amelia noticed, but she wasn’t about to get started with him. She was irritated, tired, and hungry. There was so much here, she didn’t even know where to start. He was the last person she wanted to deal with.
Gabe sat down on one of the desks, caught her gaze, and she knew she was about to hear whatever unpleasant thing had been stirring inside his head.
“This could take months,” he said. “There’s so much here, and I can’t help but wonder if we could be doing something better with our time. Something more useful.”
“How do you feel about sending this to the forensic accountants at the bureau? We’ve been watching Brett Green for years on financial crimes, so they’ll be anxious to take a look at everything we have here. This will just be icing on the cake, ensuring they’ll take it seriously, and it’ll free up our time to search for the killer.”
Amelia sighed. She didn’t like it. The last thing she wanted was a joint investigation with the bureau that froze her out. Her leaving the FBI was kind of a collaborative decision. It just wasn’t working out for her there. One reason for that was that they didn’t trust her to make the decisions she needed to make to solve cases. It had cost the life of a child once, and Amelia would never forgive them for that.
But that was also the problem. Saving potential victims, getting justice for those who had been victimized, that was most important. And Gabe was right. Having more resources and manpower would be helpful. While they were looking through this, another woman could be murdered.
“Okay,” she said, provoking shocked expressions from both Gabe and Trent. “It sounds like it’ll be best for the case, so I’m on board with it.”
“Are you sure?” Gabe asked, eyebrows raised, arms crossed over his chest like he couldn’t quite believe she’d agree so easily. “I know this has to be hard for you, but I will personally make sure Nashville PD stays as the lead on the case.”
“Of course.” She smiled the fakest smile, believing she had help but also feeling a little defeated. “It’ll be good to have help, and whatever gets us answers quickest is a great option by me. But if we’re done with this, I’m heading home. I’m exhausted, it’s been a long day.”
“I couldn’t agree more,” Trent said.
Chapter Fourteen
Amelia poured herself a glass of red wine as she settled into her apartment. After seeing how tidy her mother’s house was, she realized what a mess she’d
made of her apartment. She’d cleaned up a bit before Everett came, but it had piled up again, and she hadn’t fully taken care of everything anyway. Her room was still a mess, everything was. She was tired of living like this.
So she grabbed a garbage bag and filled it with all the take-out containers and junk mail that was piled on almost every flat surface in the apartment. She cleaned the kitchen and the bathroom, changed her sheets, did some laundry, then ordered some pizza as a reward for her work.
She was going to do better, she swore it. She was going to let go of the past that had kept her from being a fully functioning adult. She had faced her fears when she went to her mother’s house. Now she was past that. Now it was time to take control of her life.
Once the pizza came, she sat down with it and a glass of water, something she rarely drank anymore. She took out the documents she’d printed earlier and got down to trying to decipher them. It didn’t take her too long to determine they were foreign bank accounts with quite a lot of traffic going through them. But they certainly weren’t her mother’s. So why on earth did her mother have information on them? It made no sense at all.
Sure, Amelia knew that her mother had kept secrets from her. But she never expected these kinds of secrets. The double life of some kind of spy. It was insane. How did Emily get wrapped up in something like this? What exactly was she wrapped up in?
Amelia hoped there would be more information deeper within the flash drive. Maybe specifics on these accounts. There had to be some sort of explanation for all of this. But it was getting late, and she intended to be at work on time again tomorrow. This was her new life, a life where she was responsible. She’d have to look through the files more another time.
She pulled herself away from her work, took a shower, and brushed her teeth. A proper bedtime routine before crawling into her actual bed. It was a shock. An amazing feat that she was incredibly proud of, and it felt nice, like she had control over her life for once.
She still worried, though. It often took her forever to fall asleep. She hated lying in bed for hours just looking at the ceiling, as all her past traumas and current stresses assaulted her brain. It was torture, which was why she didn’t make a habit of it. Opting rather to pass out once she could no longer stay awake.
Yet that night, she dozed off right away, exhausted and satisfied. Her thoughts whirred for a bit, then came to a stop, lulled right to sleep.
The creak of the floorboards woke her. Maybe she was dreaming? She had nightmares every night, so it made sense. She took deep breaths to calm herself. To reassure herself that everything was fine.
Except her nightmares usually didn’t start with creaking floorboards. They were much more brutal, frightening. They always were a bit surreal, so this couldn’t be a nightmare. She was awake, but that noise, well, it could be anything, most likely something nonthreatening.
The floor creaked again. Probably nothing. One of the things that initially charmed her was the fact that this apartment was in a historic building. She loved the exposed beams, muted colors, unique fixtures, the design of a bygone era. She loved the original wood floors that sometimes creaked. No big deal.
Then she heard the rustling of papers. Things moving around. Drawers opening and closing.
Someone was in her apartment, sneaking around. There was an intruder. Her heart pounded as shock flooded her senses, freezing her in place. She always feared this moment would come, and she was terrified now that it had. Had he come back for her? She wouldn’t be locked up ever again. She wouldn’t allow him to claim that kind of power. She was no longer a scared little girl. She was a full-grown woman. A detective. This was her moment to get revenge.
She tried to slow her thoughts so she could think rationally like the strong, capable detective she was. Her service weapon was on the entry table. There was no way she was getting there without passing the hallway, and he’d likely spot her before she could reach it. It was out of the question.
However, she also kept a small handgun in her nightstand drawer for protection. Not as great as her Glock, but it’d work. She took shallow breaths as she slowly moved across the bed. Light. Careful.
She focused on the noise outside her room. It didn’t sound like he was making his way to her yet. He was rustling around for something. Something clattered, and he swore.
She used the moment of sound to move quickly and grab her gun, worried that he would check on her now that he had to know he’d awakened her. She crept across her room as his footsteps neared her. He was trying to be quiet, but he was far from it.
If she jumped out now, he might have a gun aimed at her. He might kill her. Or worse, he might take her. Trapped again. Who knows what he’d do to her this time?
He stopped midway down the hall and paused. Listening for something? She wanted to kill him, but more than that, she wanted him arrested so she could get some answers. So the families could hopefully get some peace. She didn’t want him to have a quick death. She wanted him to suffer in a jail cell. She thought about her next move carefully as he walked back down the hall.
That surprised her. If he wanted to kidnap her, why did he keep avoiding going into her room? What was he after? Was it the killer?
Only one way to find out.
She stepped out while his back was still facing her and held up her gun.
“Don’t move!” she ordered. “Keep your hands up and—”
He looked back at her. Not the man she remembered, but he was dressed all in black. His features were dimmed by the shadows, his eyes wide in panic. It had been so long ago she couldn’t know for sure if it was the right guy or not.
She waited for him to turn fully and reach for his gun. She waited for him to try to fight her.
Instead, he shocked her by bolting straight through the open balcony door. She darted after him, fired but missed, her mind distorted by the shock and darkness.
He jumped over the railing, and, as she neared it, she shot again.
No longer afraid, Amelia raced to the railing in time to see him climb into a waiting car. They sped off as she watched, confused as ever.
It didn’t seem like he was the kidnapper after all. Or the murderer. If he was, wouldn’t she be dead by now? She assumed so. Dead or thrown in the back of that car.
So who was this intruder? Who did Amelia have to look out for now? Amelia fell to the floor as her body shook. Alone in a world of enemies.
Chapter Fifteen
“I’m sure it was a random coincidence,” Amelia told Trent, even though she didn't believe it herself. “Someone was just hoping to make a bit of money and they chose my apartment because it looked good. Happens all the time. Nothing to be concerned about now.”
He looked down at her shaking hands as the two sat next to each other on her couch. Her things were scattered all over the apartment. The thick, black drape closest to them covered the bullet hole in the wall. Amelia could still feel it staring out at her.
“If it makes you feel any better, I don’t think the guy was our killer,” Trent said. He touched Amelia’s hand for just a moment, a bit of reassurance before taking it back.
“I never said he was,” she snapped.
“I know, but I know your feelings on the case. It must’ve crossed your mind at least once.”
“I should’ve never told you about that I guess.”
“Amelia, don’t say that. I’m not judging you, and I’m not trying to make things harder. I would suspect the same if I was in your shoes. In fact, I might even suspect it if someone came to my house to rob me right now. Things are always more frightening when you’re looking for a serial killer, no matter what your experience is.
“But I just wanted to tell you in case your mind has latched onto that, rightfully so, that it’s not the case. He doesn’t have the same MO as our killer. Our guy doesn’t abduct victims in their homes, and you weren’t abducted in your home when you were kidnapped as a child. He definitely doesn’t steal their things. They found
the victims with the same belongings they were abducted with, even their money. Objects and money aren’t motivators for him. I can’t imagine him running off like that, either. Doesn’t seem like something he would do.
“Looking at it objectively, it’s not our guy. It looks like whoever broke in was planning a simple robbery. As scary as it was, and you have every right to feel frightened, I don’t think he came here intending to harm you. I am not even convinced he knew who you are.”
As much as it annoyed her to have Trent practically read her mind like that, Amelia was glad he’d spoken up. She also suspected that they weren’t dealing with the same guy. At first, she thought it was the killer, the kidnapper. But watching him run like that had quieted those suspicions. For a little while, anyway.
Those worries had returned once the officers left and everything settled down. That’s one reason she’d called Trent here. Being alone made her terrified, and she couldn’t help but wonder if it was the same guy. If maybe she was dismissing it because she was afraid.
But with Trent laying everything out like that, she believed it. It made sense. It couldn’t be the same guy. And though that made things a bit worse, as now she’d been targeted by someone else—now she had to look out for another bad guy—it also made the situation a bit better. He hadn’t come here to harm her. Perhaps if she hadn’t woken up, she wouldn’t have even noticed anything was wrong until she stepped out into her living room and realized she’d been robbed.
She was grateful she had woken up. She would never forgive herself for sleeping through something like that.
“I believe you,” she said. She looked away. “And thank you.”
“What do you think they were looking for?” he asked. He knew it was better not to acknowledge the thank you. She wouldn’t want to confirm that she was afraid, and that was fine with him. He only wanted to help her in whatever way he could.
The Darkest Secrets Page 7
