Aftermath

by Rachel Trautmiller

  Amanda grabbed the remote and turned it off before Robinson noticed the headlines. Started in on another round of twenty reasons this was a bad idea.

  She took a breath in and let it out slowly.

  She’d disconnected her landline days ago when every reporter, newspaper and magazine columnist in Charlotte had tried to get an exclusive on whether or not she’d received word from the infamous serial bomber. People had even called, sure she’d want to drop everything for an exclusive.

  Not happening.

  Robinson shifted, his gaze steady on the neat piles of teenagers she’d arranged in hopes of finding a pattern. The notes they’d both taken after interviewing a handful of the missing teens parents. He picked up the picture of a smiling young girl, both forearms braced on his knees as he sat on the end of the couch.

  “We could sit here all day looking for something out of the ordinary.” He tossed the sheet aside. It landed atop the coffee table mayhem, slightly askew. “What I’ve got is twenty-one missing teenage girls and two dead ones.”

  “Pretty safe to say they’re related. Rice in their stomachs. No malnourishment. Almost perfect hair and nails. It’s like he scrubbed them clean before he killed them. For all we know, they could have been murdered in another country.”

  He clasped his hands behind his head and leaned back, one jean-clad leg bouncing to an inaudible beat. “Jonas remembers being in the house on Thursday, remembers talking to Sandra, but no dead body. My guess is this guy never intended for us to find Tara. Would explain the difference in location and lack of artwork.”

  “Three months is a long time to house an unwilling participant.”

  “Maybe they aren’t unwilling. And that’s why there’s no trace of this guy. They know him. Trust him even.”

  The profiler they’d consulted had said something similar. Their perp was likely well-liked and respected, in the community or communities. Had easy access to these girls. Was educated and well-spoken. And it only narrowed the search by a few thousand possibilities.

  “Doesn’t explain how he’s causing the hypothermia. You could ask me to lie still and freeze to death and I’m not gonna do it. Not without a heavy dose of drugs. And neither girl had any in their system. Not to mention their bodies weren’t contorted as is normal with hypothermia victims.”

  Robinson sat forward, his gaze traveling over her and resting in the vicinity of his sister and the door beyond. “Is she ever going to come out? Or am I going to have to break down the door with an ax?” Desperation hung on each word, his voice a low tenor of its usual boisterous quality.

  Amanda closed the file. Couldn’t concentrate on it like she needed to anyway. Robinson rubbed both hands over his face and then clasped them between his knees.

  She mirrored his stance. Nudged him with her knee. Then flipped the arm closest to him over, her palm toward the ceiling and open. “It’s going to be okay.”

  He scanned her from head to toe. And then he placed his hand against hers, his skin warm. It radiated through her as his gaze lifted to hers. His fingers tightened.

  The dark suits he wore, on a daily basis, always brought out the green in the beautiful blue of his eyes. Like the reef against the ocean in a violent storm. Turbulent, but amazing. The gray t-shirt and faded jeans he had on, tonight, didn’t change the view. Only lent him a relaxed air.

  Too bad he wasn’t anywhere near the equalizing emotion.

  “You won’t need any tools. Just some patience.”

  “Are we supposed to wait another two hours? Someone needs to talk to her. Now.”

  Lilly stood, walked in their direction and took a seat on the other side of Amanda. Her mouth was set in a tight line. She tapped the edge of the photo in her hands against her crossed leg. Rotated it and repeated. “I’m with my brother. The longer she hides, the worse this will be. I’m for breaking the door down. I’ll pay your deposit fee.”

  Amanda shook her head. Tried not to dwell on the weird sensation having all three of them in agreement and in the same room created in her chest. “While talking to her sooner would be best, everybody needs to take a breath.”

  Lilly stilled. Pointed the nature center photo at Amanda.

  She held her breath. Waited for angry words. An ugly outburst. An event that would shatter the one moment the three of them had without any strife.

  “Sitting here isn’t doing any good.” Lilly resumed her picture rotation. “You talk to her. She’ll listen to you.”

  “You have me confused with your brother.” Amanda extracted her hand from Robinson’s. “He’s the people whisperer.”

  He stood. Paced around the coffee table, hands on his hips. “Not when it comes to teenage girls.”

  “There’s nowhere for her to go that we won’t know about. She’s a great kid. It’s not like she’d...”

  Run away. Or go with a predator willingly.

  But she’d skipped school, something Amanda would have argued against, three days ago. It wasn’t always followed by runaway attempts, but cause for concerned parents to know the reasons behind it so they could—

  UNIDENTIFIED MALE APPROACHING FRONT DOOR.

  With Addie’s announcement, Amanda turned toward the front entrance. Half expected someone to bust through it.

  As if he knew her thoughts, Robinson moved toward it. Didn’t look at her like she was half crazy for keeping the thing around. Even though it was exactly that.

  Lilly popped up, worry rushing across her face. “It can tell the difference between male and female?”

  Fifty percent of the time. Not great odds.

  “Expecting anyone, A.J.?” Robinson shot over his shoulder.

  She blew out a breath. Tried to get herself together and stood. She was getting too old to fear monsters under the bed. Or strangers at her door. “Not anyone Addie wouldn’t know. How about you?”

  A half-scoff came from his mouth. “Nobody outside of Jordan and McKenna know I’m here.” With his hand on the deadbolt, he paused. And then he unhooked the locks and pulled it open before the person on the other side could knock.

  Amanda moved behind him. Noted Eric’s raised hand, mid-air, as if he’d intended to knock. The other held an envelope. His gaze flicked between them. “Hey.”

  What was this?

  Robinson didn’t seemed phased by the lawyer’s presence. He stepped aside and let him in, his eyes connecting with hers. “I needed a favor.”

  She pressed her lips together. Tried not to smile at the number of times this man used the phrase. Usually on her. Anything qualified, but he normally didn’t ask unless it was related to some type of case. So, what had he needed? “Of course you did.”

  Eric shifted on his feet as Robinson closed the door. He passed the envelope to the other man. “I can’t stay long. Kelsey’s in the car. Apparently, pregnancy calls for late night Chinese. I’ll be lucky if there’s any left by the time we get home.” Shock floated across his face. He pinched the bridge of his nose, his eyes closing. “And you never heard that.” Then he opened them and dropped his hand. “I expected some exhausting nights once the baby arrives. I did not anticipate worrying over a woman who suddenly doesn’t sleep. I wake up at three in the morning and she’s cleaning ceiling fans or baseboards. Reorganizing the entire kitchen. Cataloging serving spoons as if the president is coming to dinner.”

  Laughter took her by surprise. It mingled with Robinson’s. Chased away the chill taking root in her soul with every second he held the information in his hands.

  “How far along is she?” Lilly stepped next to Amanda, hands clasped behind her back.

  “Eric, this is Robinson’s sister, Lilly. Labor and Delivery nurse extraordinaire.”

  Lilly shot Amanda a glance full of skepticism and shook her head. Then focused on the father-to-be in the room. “Sounds like some extreme nesting. What’s she got? Two, maybe three weeks left?”

  “A little over three, but I’ve heard...stories.”

  “Forget them all. I’ve
worked every delivery you can think of. Anything from forty-five minutes to sixteen hours. Every one is different.”

  Eric swallowed. Adjusted his tie as if the thing were strangling him. “Let’s hope it’s not the latter.”

  Amanda put one arm across her middle and balanced the elbow of the other on it, her closed palm covering her mouth. She tried to cover another laugh with a cough.

  A small smirk played across Robinson’s mouth as he smacked her with the papers in his hand. Then held them out as if they belonged to her. As if she’d asked for them instead of him.

  She gripped the envelope. Couldn’t help staring at it as if it were the Holy Grail. Of their own volition, her legs carried her to the island. Lilly said something to Eric. The buzz of their voices filled Amanda’s ears, but none of the words made it through the tangled webbing surrounding her brain.

  She tore into the package. Flipped through the content. Adoption paperwork listed the general information. Baby girl. Twenty-one inches. Brown hair. Brown eyes. Birth father, unknown. Birth mother’s age was seventeen. Her name rested below that.

  Bethany Ann Porterville.

  Amanda forced air into her lungs. Didn’t bother thinking about the other Porterville signature at the bottom of the paper. The one agreeing that all parental rights be terminated. Another bunching of scribbles verified this sorry excuse for a mother had the rights to give away something that wasn’t hers.

  The next few articles held the information about Camelia and Jerry Jurik. Beyond that, nursing notes concluding the labor process, drugs administered and general health of the little girl. Beneath all that stood another name

  Lilly Gabriel, RN.

  No. Way. The world was too big for that kind of coincidence.

  Amanda’s gaze traveled over to the other woman, who still talked with Eric. There was no way she had any idea. And Amanda would be shocked to discover Lilly remembered more than the traumatic cases.

  “I’m glad I found the information on that.” Eric stuffed his hands in his pockets and nodded toward the papers she held. He hadn’t moved from his original spot.

  Curiosity covered Lilly’s face as her eyes dipped to words she may or may not be able to read. Amanda scrambled to shuffle them back together as if the information didn’t matter. Robinson took in the entire scene in that way of his. As if he knew every thought. Every issue. And was waiting for the moment he’d have to step in.

  “You asked me for it almost two years ago.” Eric flicked a hand across his nose. “Things got crazy. And since it wasn’t about an active case, it got put on the back burner.”

  Two years ago? Her heart hammered an unsteady tune. Heat washed her entire body, an icy cold following close behind. She’d known about Paige for all of four days. Would never have asked Eric for a favor of this magnitude without a valid reason.

  Rules would have dictated he say no. And she’d have known that.

  Which meant that Beth had asked him. And he hadn’t known the difference. She’d gone in Amanda’s name and crossed an identity barrier that left her wondering how far the other woman had tread in her shoes.

  Her gaze connected with Robinson’s. Pure revulsion lurked behind an emotion she couldn’t pinpoint. Something between all-out anger and bone-deep weariness. He shook his head, his mouth pinched tight and eyebrows raised upward.

  She could almost hear his voice.

  See what I mean? Always with the games.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  THEY DIDN’T GET it.

  Ariana shifted the dresser she’d shoved against the door earlier, in slow increments. Any loud movements might send the three adults, in the house, scurrying toward her door. And, as far as she could tell, only her mom was nearby. Maybe.

  It depended on whether or not she’d shrunk back into her silent shell and sucked the remnants of the mom Ariana missed with her.

  The last few days had been different. Filled with the other woman trying harder. And after one hospital visit, she’d even picked up Ariana’s guitar and asked for a refresher. Hadn’t gotten upset when the mini lesson hadn’t gone well. Had used care when she slid the guitar to the floor and asked Ariana if she was hungry. As if she’d planned that array of events.

  Ariana shifted the dresser far enough from the door for her to open it and peak out. All three adults hovered near the front entry, a fourth man she didn’t recognize blocking the only exit. She needed a few minutes of air to clear her head. To stop thinking of the words she’d read in Paige’s diary. Garbled sentences that didn’t make sense, but chilled her all the same.

  Something bad had happened and Ariana needed to find the courage to discover what, before guilt ate her alive. It already gnawed at the pit of her stomach like a starved goblin. And seeing that picture with a crude drawing across it didn’t help.

  The class had been on a field trip to the Mountain Creek Nature Center when one of their chaperones had offered to take a picture. Had encouraged an aloof Paige to join in.

  She and Ariana had a few classes together. Had even collaborated on a science project, at the beginning of the school year.

  They weren’t close friends, but Paige was easy to talk to. Prior to that trip, anyway. And Hunter had mentioned something about seeing her emerging from a heavily wooden area of the center. He’d passed it off as nothing out of the norm. And Paige had seemed quiet but fine. So, Ariana had continued with the trip. Not given it another thought.

  When the other girl had gotten into a fight a few weeks later, Ariana had been out with the stomach flu. By the time she’d come back, Paige had been expelled and had subsequently moved.

  Now, Ariana knew it was a lie. She was missing like the girl they’d found the other night.

  Why else would a cop carry around her diary?

  Would things be different if Ariana hadn’t been so preoccupied with her friends? Stopped to ask if everything was okay?

  She backed away from the door and closed it, careful not to make a peep.

  Did the kids at school assume some lie about Ariana was true? That her absence was a direct implication of guilt? She didn’t know what was going on behind the school, but she wasn’t a part of it. Had only gone back there once, when Mr. Tanner had asked her to take out the trash after a messy run with clay and paint during art class.

  Keith Cooke had been near the dumpster, a cigarette hanging from his lips. Had asked if Ariana planned to rat him out. She’d rolled her eyes, shot some sarcastic remark in his direction—something so ordinary she didn’t even remember it now. Then she’d thrown her trash away and gone back to class without a word. Not had another thought of the guy or his bad habit.

  And the next week at school, the whispers had started.

  Like Hunter, would Uncle Robbie believe the rumors being spun? Would her mom get so mad she’d start staring into space again? Ignoring them all. Would Amanda rescind her warm friendship and replace it with disappointment? Pick up and abandon them? Leaving Ariana to watch the three most important adults in her life fall apart in quiet stillness.

  It had happened to Paige.

  They were already worried. How long before it turned to fear that she’d actually done the things other kids whispered about? All the things the hateful notes suggested.

  She stopped at the window. Darkness covered the surrounding buildings, the streetlights illuminating the parking lot and various shrubbery. A flash of something caught her eye near one of the tall oaks. A blip of something red, flitting in the reflection of the vehicle windshields below.

  “What are we staring at?”

  The sound of Amanda’s voice made Ariana jump. A bleat of high-pitched panic rushed through her body like a centipede on drugs. The door was still closed. The dresser no further from the wall than when she’d peaked out.

  Amanda crossed her arms over her chest. Stared out the window. “You didn’t think that would keep us out, did you?”

  Crap. Soon her mom and Robbie would be in here, too. Her uncle would continue his
questionnaire blast while her mom had that honey-let’s-talk-face firmly in place. Nobody ever mentioned that being a teenager was as confusing as quantum physics.

  What would Amanda do?

  “Nice work with the dresser.”

  What? A breath whooshed from Ariana’s lungs. The older woman shot her a smirk. Was always doing things like that. Small gestures that made her feel like their lives weren’t complete chaos.

  “That’s what I would say if I were an irresponsible adult. Two hours is a nice hold-out. Shows you’re serious. Or you know you’re in trouble.” She paused, the seconds spreading out like ink on a white rug. Slow, but settling deep, never to be removed.

  She swallowed. Took a short breath. “Yeah.” What was she supposed to say? That she wasn’t holding out, but terrified of the outcome?

  Amanda’s gaze settled on her then, penetrating. No humor. No quips. Resolute probing digging for answers buried deep. “Are you in trouble?”

  Ariana tucked her hands in her back pockets. Tried hard not to squirm. “I don’t think so.”

  When my mom came out of the principal’s office I could tell she didn’t want to believe whatever they’d said, but she did. The truth sat like a shiny, red convertible in a parking lot full of rusty metal, on her face.

  Would Amanda take her word over that of another adult? Or even another kid?

  “You’ve got everyone worried about you.”

  “Seemed more like they were mad.” As if they’d already heard a portion of the story and chosen to accept it.

  The thought twisted her gut.

  “Frustrated is a better word. So, what’s going on, Ariana?”

  “Are you and Uncle Robbie getting back together?” The words popped out before she could stop them, desperation only the kid of divorced parents could embody. Except, she’d lost her dad to death, not irreconcilable differences and fights. And she’d almost lost her mom the same way.

  While her brain knew her mom hadn’t forfeited the battle with death, her heart didn’t believe she’d stick around long enough, mentally.