DISCONNECT (The Bening Files Book 2)

by Rachel Trautmiller

  “Right or left hand?”

  “Left.”

  “Do you remember what color it was?”

  The other woman pressed her lips together. “Blue, I think.”

  “Which Home Depot were you at?”

  “The one down the street from Robinson's house. I can't remember what street that's on. I only went there the one time.”

  “What was he wearing?”

  “I don't know. Jeans and a polo shirt.”

  “Was he wearing a Home Depot shirt or apron?”

  “I don't think so.” She blew out a breath. “How stupid can a girl get, right?”

  If Renee only knew. “No. You had no reason to be suspicious. Do you remember what day you went?”

  “Sometime in October. Before Halloween. I could look for the receipt. If I still have it, I'll call you with the date.”

  “Great. Do you remember what the gentleman at the register looked like?”

  Renee ran a hand through her hair. “I didn’t spend as much time looking at him. Older. Maybe a little overweight. I know that doesn’t help a lot.”

  “It’s better than nothing.” Amanda stood. “If you think of anything else, you've got my number.” She headed toward the door, but stopped. “Renee, you know you can call myself or Agent Robinson, if you need to, right?”

  Redness covered the younger woman’s face, as she stared at the ground. She nodded.

  “I want you to promise you'll call. Especially, if you notice anything odd or something doesn't feel right.”

  “Sure.” Her voice was small.

  “You could have called him, today.”

  She shook her head. “I don't think I'll ever be able to face him, again. Which is probably for the best, since I made an idiot out of myself when I gave him back my key.”

  That was news to Amanda. “I'm sure whatever happened wasn't that bad.”

  Renee looked up then and Amanda was struck by how young she was. Right now, she could barely remember what being twenty-one was like.

  “Have you ever tried to kiss someone who doesn't want to be kissed by you?”

  Her first answer would have been, no, but Sam Richardson came to mind. Age would be the only differing factor between her story and Renee's. Because, yes, she'd humiliated herself, but the guy hadn't been fifteen years older.

  “I think we've all been there.”

  “Maybe when you're fourteen.”

  Touché. “You can't let embarrassment stop you from living. Think of what you'll miss out on. You care about them, right?”

  “Of course.”

  “Then that's all that matters. The rest will sort itself out.”

  Perhaps she needed to heed her own words, because in them lie a basic truth. Cutting ties with Robinson wasn't possible when a person cared as much as she did. About him, their cases and the people involved within them. It would equate to walking away from Jordan and McKenna.

  She exited the locker room and expected to see Robinson pacing nearby. Like her, he couldn't walk away from the people he cared about, no matter how crazy they were. Instead, she spotted him on one of the treadmills, doing a slow jog. In his suit. The jacket hung over one of the handlebars. He slowed the machine as she approached. Yeah, she couldn't stay mad at him. He’d just find a new way to catch her off guard.

  “What happened to the guy who hates gyms?”

  Robinson stopped the machine. “Turns out I had some time to kill and found myself inside one, getting weird stares.” He wiped it down with a nearby bottle of sanitizer and a paper towel.

  “Working out in a suit makes it way less weird.” The view wasn't half bad.

  He picked up his jacket and followed her out the door. “Where are you headed?”

  “Who says I'm headed anywhere specific?”

  He laughed, the sound as warm as stepping into the tropical sun, on a sandy beach.

  “Everything. Head down, steps quick and sure, mouth in a tight line. Arms swinging in perfect rhythm. The finishing touch is the determined light that makes your eyes a deeper brown. Put it all together and people run to get out of your way.”

  She couldn't stop the smile from blooming on her face, nor the tingling sensation in her stomach. “Except for you.”

  “Well, I'm the daring type.”

  “I forgive you your idiocy, Robbie.”

  Now, his smile matched hers. It crinkled the corners of his eyes and showed off a sea bluish-green she always wanted to paint. That kind of smile would do it for her. If she were free.

  “Whatever makes you feel better, Detective.”

  She pulled out her cell phone and noted the time. Ten-thirty-seven. “Think we can make it to the Home Depot, near your house, and back before the press conference?”

  He hesitated half a second. “My car or yours?”

  “Yours.” Like he would ever let her drive. The man had a little bit of a control issue, which usually went hand in hand with the job. Amanda couldn't say she blamed him. She followed him to his vehicle, hopped inside and fastened her seatbelt.

  Robinson slung his arm between their seats, his palm braced on the seat, above her shoulder, as he backed out of the parking spot. His eyes steadied on her for a moment before he shifted into gear and focused on the road. Then he dropped his arm.

  She readjusted her seatbelt. “It's possible Renee has seen this guy.”

  “At Home Depot?”

  She relayed Renee's story about her keys. “She described a man, about my height—maybe a little taller with dark, curly hair. Medium build and around one-seventy. Blue, star-shaped tattoo between his thumb and forefinger, on the left hand. Does that jive with what your witness said?”

  If only she’d been able to get Willow Stanley to talk.

  He turned down the entrance for the freeway and had them headed across town. Robinson shook his head. “Our witness described a woman.”

  Perhaps that was why Willow wouldn’t let Amanda inside her apartment.

  “Let me guess?” She fiddled with the vents, hoping for a bit of warmth. “My height and build, with dark hair.”

  “You're not hearing that from me, Amanda.” Robinson turned one of the knobs between them and a blast of warm air hit her skin. “Better?”

  “Yeah. Thanks.”

  Captain Dentzen wasn't stupid. Did he think she'd risk her own life to kill hundreds?

  It happened every day, around the world.

  “What we've got is a lot of speculation. I know it. You know it. And Captain Dentzen knows it.” He pulled into the parking lot of Home Depot. “Now, we have to prove it. Hopefully, Renee's story pans out.”

  She hoped so, too. “You should call her. She's torn up about the thought of putting you guys in danger.”

  “This could be nothing. And, even if it is how he or she—let’s say he to reduce confusion—got into my apartment, it's not her fault.”

  It didn’t explain how he’d been inside Amanda’s condo, if that were true. They’d never found any evidence to support the theory.

  “She needs to hear it from you.”

  He shook his head and then found a spot near the entrance and parked. He didn’t speak.

  “She's also super embarrassed.”

  Robinson tapped his finger on the steering wheel, the rest of his body still. “It's not that big a deal.”

  “Prove it. Call her.”

  Those blue-green eyes hit her then, all serious. “That will make it worse, don't you think?”

  Amanda unlatched her seatbelt. “Well, I didn't say to show up with flowers, balloons and a singing telegram from a fat guy wearing some kind of cute animal costume.”

  His face crinkled together in a half smile. “Where do you get this crap?”

  “Books, movies. The internet. You should try it sometime.”

  “We need to get you out of the house more, Nettles.” Then he exited the vehicle and waited for her to meet him on the side closest to the store. He didn't move once she made it there, a strange, l
ost expression covering his face.

  “What?”

  “You know, I don't, I... It's that...well, I...” He rubbed a hand down his face. “It's strange to work a big case without you.”

  “Is that a compliment?” A warm sensation settled over her, a smile begging for release. Judging from the struggle of emotions vying for residence on Robinson’s handsome face—confusion, frustration and panic, she held back.

  A strangled laugh came from his throat. He held up a finger. “Just give me a sec.”

  The air around them swirled with awareness she couldn't ignore or except as he struggled with words. That gaze never left hers. The possibilities had something swelling in her chest. Her hands got clammy. The thundering of her heart, vibrated like an earthquake. It was all wrapped up in his tangy scent, floating on the breeze.

  “Hurry up and ask me to the prom already, so we can coordinate our attire.”

  Relief flashed across his features.

  “But I turn into a pumpkin at midnight. So, don't get your hopes up.”

  “I'm sorry. I have no idea what just happened.”

  She did. And so did he. It meant they were in trouble. Her heart hadn't slowed. Maybe someone had drugged her. That could explain this sudden pull toward Robinson.

  “Don't worry.” She patted his cheek as a mother might do to her son, when she knew something he didn't. “You're just getting old.” Then she turned and hoped her hands stopped shaking, sometime in the next ten years.

  Bad. Bad. Bad.

  “Old? No. Thirty-six is the new twenty-five.” He fell into step next to her, that cocky grin back in place.

  She took a breath. Maybe the moment had been a fluke. “Keep dreaming.”

  “I have a meeting with Director Stotts after the press release. Maybe if we come up with something more to go on...”

  “I get it, Robbie. Eyes open, lips closed.”

  What else could she say?

  CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

  The pallbearers brought Matthew’s casket from the Hearse to the open burial plot. Amanda stood at the gravesite, next to McKenna, whose gaze strayed to the headstones on either side of the plot. Jordan's mother and baby sister.

  Jordan carried the front left side of the casket, two others behind him and three on the other side, in uniform. Robinson was nowhere in sight. No big deal.

  Lies.

  They'd spent the latter half of the morning questioning the management and staff, at Home Depot. At least Robinson had. She didn't like hanging behind, but had to admit he might be right this time. After the way things had started between them that morning, she wouldn't have survived another emotionally charged disagreement. Or any of its counterpart confessions.

  Compliance was the best answer. At Home Depot and the press release. Even if it had killed her a little bit.

  McKenna rubbed her bulging stomach, a pinched look crossing her face.

  “You should sit, McKenna.” Amanda said.

  She shook her head, never taking her eyes from the casket. “No. I'm okay.”

  A few murmurs drew Amanda’s attention as the small gathering parted behind them. Eric's tall frame came into view as he searched the crowd until his eyes found her. Shock hit her like a bucket of ice water. He was the last person she thought would show up.

  He came to stand next to her. “Sorry, I'm late,” he whispered. “I meant to ask you about it this morning and then...”

  They couldn't have this conversation here, so she nodded.

  “I saw the press release. Do you think what you're doing is wise?”

  She didn't have much choice, since the opposite was waiting for another phone call. Another explosion and more deaths. “I'm not sure what you mean.”

  “Come on. I'm not stupid. You're bait on a fancy hook. It's dangerous.”

  Not much about her life was safe these days. If he bothered to say more than two words to her, he'd understand that.

  “You don’t have to agree to do everything Robinson asks.”

  To the outsider, it probably seemed like she was a puppy he led around. The fact of the matter was, he’d never asked her to do anything she didn’t feel was necessary.

  “We need to talk, Mandy.”

  “I know.” When relief should have been coursing through her system for a chance to start over, the hands of dread grabbed her stomach and squeezed.

  There was no reset button on life.

  “You can’t keep avoiding me.”

  She bit the inside of her cheek. He’d been doing a fine job, himself. “So, you pick a funeral to pin me down?”

  His jaw flexed. “That wasn’t my intention, but it’s not a bad thought. Since I pretty much need an appointment and legally binding paperwork to talk to my own girlfriend.”

  Sure, she’d been busy, but she wasn’t the only one in this train-wreck of a relationship deploying avoidance. She wasn’t the only one shoving the truth aside.

  “I guess you’ll have to take a number and file the proper ordnances.” She bit her tongue. Miss Sass was enjoying herself, again.

  Next to her, he let out a long sigh. “This isn’t helping.”

  Amanda clamped her lips shut. Miss Sass tried to slip beyond the security without success.

  “Meet me at Java Joe's for coffee afterward?” Eric’s soft voice floated on the breeze. The ground in front of him had become entrancing, apparently.

  She sighed. “Sure.”

  The processional arrived at the plot and set the casket on the lowering device. Jordan made eye contact with his wife as he stood with the other men, at the foot of the site. Eric reached for her hand as she stuck both of hers in her jacket pockets. She ignored him.

  What made him want to talk now? Why not weeks ago? Why not yesterday? He proposed marriage, but couldn't answer a basic question.

  Could he love her when she didn't make sense?

  Did that signify what their relationship might evolve into? Great joy in the easy moments and nothing during everything else?

  What a mess.

  A deep, male voice from the Firing Party gave commands. The officers, garbed in dress uniforms, shot a round of gunfire from seventy-five feet away. The prompt was repeated twice more, with the same result.

  She watched their form as they raised their guns and fired. Which is when she noticed Robinson. He stood on the opposite side of the grave, behind and to the side of the Firing Party. He had his arms across his chest and leaned against a tree, lining the nearest path. Something skipped in her chest. He looked alone and aloof. But even from this distance, she could spot determination in the mix.

  The pastor said a few brief words she couldn't focus on.

  McKenna nudged her. “You brought the pin, right?”

  Amanda pulled the silver star from her pocket. Matthew had given it to her before her seventeenth birthday. A particularly rough spring for all of her friends, but she hadn't been spared. Beth's mom had come back to claim her, halting the adoption process her parents had started.

  The metal was cold against her skin. She rubbed her thumb across the surface and cleared away a smudge. One of the rays had a small chip in it after the Wright stadium bombing.

  Because she'd had it pinned to her shirt during both incidents. She'd watched the same tapes Robinson had. Maybe she'd found the proof he needed. She glance toward the spot he stood, but he was gone. Vanished, as if he'd never been present at all.

  “I-I can't go up there,” her best friend whispered so soft, she had to move closer to hear.

  “We'll go together.” Amanda grabbed her hand.

  “No.” McKenna’s grip was more than that of needed comfort. “These Braxton-Hicks contractions are killing me.” A light blanket of perspiration had popped up across her forehead.

  “Are you sure that's all it is?”

  Her friend took a breath through her nose and closed her eyes. Then she opened her mouth on an exhale. “Probably. I hope.”

  “I'll get Jordan.”

  “No
. I don't want to make a scene.” McKenna's free hand paused on her stomach as it hardened.

  “Is that normal?” Amanda whispered. Why hadn’t she paid more attention to her mom’s lectures about childbirth?

  Because she wasn’t ever having kids.

  “No idea.” The other woman didn't move for what seemed like, forever. Then she took a breath. “They—they'll do the last radio call in a minute. We can't miss it.”

  “Um, okay...” Did she try to reason with a woman in labor? Amanda tried to catch Jordan's eye, but failed as his attention centered on the pastor.

  The grip on her hand got tighter. McKenna started breathing a little heavier. Amanda found herself doing the same. “Are you timing the contractions?”

  “Six minutes apart.”

  “Six?” What did that mean in terms of how much time they had, until that baby came into the world?

  “She's supposed to wait until next week. My parents aren't even in town.”

  Oh, boy.

  “Don't panic,” McKenna said.

  “Shouldn't I be the one saying that?” Amanda's voice was a high-pitched squeak.

  “If you panic, I'm going to and then everyone will freak out. Please.” McKenna looked at her then. Barely controlled fear blossomed in her friend's eyes. “I'm not ready to be a mom. I don't know anything about it. I've never changed a diaper.” McKenna's words came out faster, now. “Or made a bottle. What are we doing? I can't do this. I’m not even sure I want kids.”

  If this were a movie, Amanda would have laughed. Instead, she took another breath. No panicking. Check. “You'll do great. Riley is lucky to have you. You're having a baby and you and Jordan will figure everything out together.”

  Like always.

  McKenna didn’t move.

  Had Amanda blown her pep-talk, somehow? “Everything is going to be fine.” She hoped her voice came out calm.

  McKenna gave a nod, her attention moving toward her husband. “Easy for you to say. You won’t be pushing an elephant out of your vagina, will you?”

  Okay, then. Fair enough.