OBSESSION (The Bening Files (Novella) Book 4) (7 page)

“It’s my job.”

It was so much more than that. More than saving one girl. “Not to her.” He stood, ignored the twinge in his chest and tried for a calming breath. Then he placed his hands on her upper arms and moved her toward the chair he’d occupied, forcing her to sit.

Her gaze flicked between him and Jordan. “What am I missing? Besides the fact that you hijacked my car? And left me to handle Paige and my mom. Alone.”

A decision he’d had little choice in. “You’ve skated through worse.”

The amusement he thought the comment might evoke didn’t arrive. She sucked in a slow breath, consternation grabbing hold of her features. “Unlike you’re doing right now?”

Touché. “Paige found a knife at the crime scene.”

“What?” Amanda sat forward. Worry highlighted her eyes. “You’re sure?”

“Yes.”

“She didn’t say anything to me.” Her hands curled around the chair armrests as if she were holding herself back from jumping up and rushing out of the room. “Did she touch it? Where is it now?”

Jordan placed a manila folder on Robinson’s desk. “Paige’s prints weren’t found anywhere on it.”

“Wait.” She held up a hand. The panic he swore he’d heard in her voice earlier crept around them like a giant closing in with a meaty paw. “Start from the beginning.”

“Don’t have all the details yet. The short is that your mom had it in her possession. Paige saw it. And removed it.”

“Oh my…” She tented her fingers in front of her face. “And I just reamed Sergeant Brink.” Her gaze found his. “He doesn’t know?”

“No.”

“You couldn’t have said any of this before you stole my car? You made it seem like you couldn’t get away fast enough.”

“Couldn’t.”

She stood in one jerky movement. “How do you think it looks to have our niece involved in an open crime? Even witnessing one? Probably like poor supervision.”

It was anything but.

He took in a slow breath. Tried counting to ten. Didn’t make it to three. “I didn’t figure the middle of a police station was a good time to get every single detail from Paige and then pass it on to you. My bad.”

Amanda’s eyes met his. “So you took my car. Put yourself at risk. Put Jordan at risk.”

“No different than you would have done.” And if it turned out Eileen wasn’t the innocent he believed, he’d gladly take the blame.

For a moment, she didn’t move. Then she picked up the folder and scanned the contents.

“It’s preliminary findings, Amanda.” Jordan stuck his hands in his pockets.

“She didn’t do this.” Her gaze moved between them. The shrill sound of her phone cut through the silence. Amanda dug it out of her pocket, looked at the screen and then pressed it to her ear. “Nettles.” She paused. Her fingers found the papers on his desk and sifted through them. Right past Davis’ file.

Every muscle in Robinson’s body tensed, even though he wanted Amanda aware of every facet of the information.
After
he had a chance to digest it.

“I see. What’s the protocol, here?” She sat, then leaned forward. Her features darkened. “I understand. Thanks for alerting us.” She ended the call and laid the phone next to his reports. Amanda maneuvered each page as if it were paperwork she couldn’t bear to leave a print on. Then she tapped her knuckles against the wooden surface of the space he considered a second home.

“You can say it’s preliminary all you want, but it doesn’t change facts.” She didn’t look up at either of them. “The knife was in my mom’s possession. She can’t tell me the truth. She can’t tell me a lie. And the only thing anyone will ever care about is that she could be placed at the scene of the crime, had the weapon, no alibi and is related to me.” She stood, but didn’t bother asking about Davis’ childhood staring right at her.

“There’s no motive.” He stuck his hands in his pockets.

“Easy enough to find one. You gave them everything they needed earlier. You know, pointing out the fact that she always wanted a million children but there’s only me. Highlights a personal vendetta against both our
pregnant
vics. Heck, maybe those deaths were botched attempts at fetal abduction.”

No way. “That would be a stretch.”

“It’s an idea. Add Alzheimer’s disease to the mix and anything is possible.” A hint of panic crept into her eyes before she glanced away. A curtain of dark hair fell over her face. “And by the way, we have to figure out how to tell Paige that her future children have no home to go to. The Penningtons just found out they’re expecting. So they don’t need someone else’s problems. The social-workers words, not mine.”

CHAPTER FIVE

IT’S LIKELY THE infants will end up in different homes.

The thought didn’t sit well with Amanda. It didn’t matter that these babies were not hers to protect. They should be together at the very least.

She yanked the FBI visitor’s badge from her shirt before exiting her vehicle. Then she headed for the forensic lab. Tried to drown out the various voices in her head, each one screeching for precedence, each one accusing the same.

The details of Davis’ life, scattered on Robinson’s desk, surfaced second loudest. He didn’t have the file for nothing. And while ten percent of her wanted to march back into his office and demand answers and details—full access—the other ninety percent was a big fat chicken with a badge.

One who hoped her instincts weren’t that far off.

About anybody, but especially her partner with the Charlotte-Mecklenburg Police Department. Not with Paige and her unborn children. Nor her mother and the Alzheimer’s train of destruction.

“Do what you need to do.” Lilly’s voice filtered into her brain, reminding Amanda she’d been on the phone with Robinson’s sister before she’d pulled up to the building. “I’m working the graveyard shift and we both know I wasn’t going to sleep anyway.”

A fresh dose of guilt slammed into her gut. She should be at the house, comforting her distraught niece. Maybe tracking down the schoolwork she’d missed today. “I’ll be back as soon as I get the report from the lab.” She could do some research from home and go back into the office once Robinson got home. From there, she could sit with her mother if she would allow it.

That’s what parents did, right? Made it work the best they could.

“The girls are fine. In Paige’s room whispering and giggling.”

Whispering, maybe. “So you heard one bout of minuscule laughter and that makes everything hunky-dory?”

“Sure beats crying in the corner of your mother’s bedroom with a picture of your dead family in your arms.”

The dark image lodged something thick in Amanda’s throat. The absolute helplessness had swarmed inside the room. It was the first and last time she’d seen Paige shed tears, before today. The memory shot a surge of irritation through her system. “I’m sure you would have frolicked through the daisies over the fact.”

Silence reigned a beat. “Have you had your coffee today, Amanda?”

She closed her eyes against a sudden onslaught of shame. Who was the crass monster inhabiting her body and spewing harsh words? First with Paige, then Robinson and now her sister-in-law. “I’m sorry. That was—”

“Right on target, as usual. And a complete Momma-Bear moment. Look at you. All grown up. Fighting for your cub. I’m so proud.”

Amanda blew out a breath. She didn’t need one more cup of coffee. She needed about ten.

“When are you guys planning to live in that house everyone helped move your stuff into? You know, the one with a great view. Four bedrooms. A sunny porch.”

Every time she and Robinson started discussing it, the conversation went nowhere fast. Moving forward seemed wrong. And staying?

“Listen, all I’m saying is this place is like a shrine, Amanda.” Lilly’s voice was quiet. “It’s not healthy.”

“It’s not up to me.”

“Of course it is. She’s thirteen. That makes you older and therefore wiser and able to make better decisions. You guys are her guardians. Not the other way around.”

So much was out of the teen’s hands, neither she nor Robinson wanted to add to the list. Or was that a cop-out? An easy way to rest the blame elsewhere if things went south?

“For some reason my brother is biting his tongue, but I’m not built like that. You both need some sense knocked into you.”

Amanda pressed her teeth into the side of her cheek as she passed through the entry to the lab. Beyond the front desk, Davis talked with a tech. “Your brother says what he wants to say, when he wants to say it.” If that had changed, it was only because they were finding a new balance.

Right? “And that house is where Paige grew up. All her memories are there.”

“Not all of them are good, Amanda. Don’t forget that.”

If only. “It’s familiar.”

“It’s stifling. You’ve got half-packed boxes stacked in the living room. A kitchen that has the bare necessities. The rest of the house isn’t much better.” A huff sounded from the other side of the phone. “I’m not trying to tell you and Baker Jackson what to do—”

“Yes you are.”

“Okay. I am. It’s a big sister right. It’s time to move on. Period. Make the call. And if it ends up being wrong she can hate you guys for the rest of her life. That will be a lot easier than hating herself.”

A teenage giggle filled the line with the type of light-hearted warmth she’d never heard from Ariana. Paige? It made Amanda pause. She strained to listen for another snippet.

“That doesn’t mean you forget.” Lilly whispered. “It means you keep living. Gotta go. I promised a certain pair pizza and ice cream.” Then she hung up.

Amanda had no time to warn her that Paige was likely to pick at any and all food, to be a silent lunch date. And that would get worse after Amanda dropped the latest news in her lap.

But there’d been laughter.

Maybe Amanda was the problem.

Mark met her gaze as she approached, had a smile at the ready as if he hadn’t seen some horrific evidence. And he didn’t have a frowning Davis standing next to him looking as if she were about to take a bite out of his rear end. “Hey, boss-lady. You didn’t bring boss-man with you?”

“Not this time.” Which might be a different story if she’d stuck around his office instead of storming off. Staying meant listening to reason.
His.
And holding back the anger covering everything in a hot flaming red that had the potential to sear whatever she touched.

While he might deserve a smidgen of it, releasing all of it on her husband was hardly fair. Even with the way she still battled the hum of irritation over his pushiness with her mother, she understood that. Could appreciate what he’d been trying to prove—her innocence—and had to respect that he’d been able to do so even after hearing she’d had the probable murder weapon in her hands.

And Davis’ file? That was a semi-mystery. He had concerns? So what. It didn’t warrant an all-out investigation. Except Amanda had done it before, only never with this type of fervor. And never while juggling this kind of responsibility, like the well-being of one displaced and distanced teen.

Where’s Paige?

Worry had been written all over his face, almost as if he believed Amanda would ship her somewhere unsafe. Two weeks ago, she hadn’t allowed the girl to go anywhere alone. Not school, home, nor with friends or relatives. And then Robinson and Lilly had cornered her, with Robinson’s sister leading the way. They pointed out all the problems that might arise from wrapping one traumatized teen in too tight of a safety net.

They were right, but it didn’t make it easier. “You test the samples from both our vics?”

“Still nailing down the full work-ups, but I’ve got some prelims.”

“Some of which you won’t hand over.” Davis flipped through the report in rapid succession, her movements jerky. She didn’t bother looking up at either of them and her mouth was pressed in a firm line. “You must think we’re stupid.”

Mark took a step back. Held up both hands. Shot a glance at Amanda. “Hey, the FBI came in here. Requested a bunch of information. That’s all I’ve got for you.”

Because someone had given them—or Mark—gag orders? Or was his silence a personal favor meant to protect something or someone? And if so, how long would that last?

Robinson hadn’t mentioned it.

You didn’t give him much opportunity.

Davis slapped the pages together. “Complete crap. No better than Helen Keller’s attempt at flying a plane.” She thrust the items into Amanda’s hands, then brushed past them both. “Maybe you’ll have better luck, Nettles.”

Mark watched her retreating form. “She’s a peach today.”

“Mm-hmm.” Amanda flipped through the findings. Female. Twenty-seven. Blonde hair, blue eyes, estimated to be twenty-two weeks pregnant. Vaginal irritation was noted, but no DNA evidence had been discovered. No definitive defensive wounds had yet been identified, but she had scrapes across her body as if she’d fallen against the asphalt suddenly.

Almost as if she’d been attacked without warning and from someone she didn’t see as a threat. Or at all.