OBSESSION (The Bening Files (Novella) Book 4) (8 page)

Cause of death was pretty obvious. Knife to the abdomen. Two birds—two lives—one slice. Nora Flemming had likely hemorrhaged out before she could find help, her unborn baby taking a while longer to fade away. The area of the report where they might have speculated about the type of knife used was blank.

She already knew it was a Smith and Wesson Bowie knife with a partial serrated edge and carbon steel coated in Teflon. Not something you’d find in the kitchen. It was used for hunting, for combat…for last resort protection. “Got a tox screen yet?”

“These things take time.”

Amanda looked up from the file. “How much?”

Mark ran a hand over his dimpled cheek. “You sound like boss-man.”

Goody for them. He was probably just as out of sorts as she was. Their evening together was likely to be amazing in the most horrible way. “Can you tell me when the FBI came through?”

“An hour—hour and a half max.”

Was Robinson protecting her mother or merely keeping the information from getting into the wrong hands?

“I meant to mention this to Miss Sunshine.” He reached across the desk and grabbed an evidence bag with a slip of paper inside. Then he handed it over. “Found that in the victim’s pocket.”

A photocopied consent form, with their vic’s signature at the bottom, contained two precise creases as if it had been folded with care. Women’s Health North was at the top. It included a snappy one-liner about the clinic being there for every crisis. The date next to the signature caught her eye. “She was at the clinic yesterday?”

“Looks like it.”

“Anything on the first woman?”

He shook his head. “The first thing I thought too. The woman they found outside the Gamegon building didn’t have anything on her. No identification. Nothing. We even scoured the nearby trash without luck.”

But she had the same scrapes. The same type of precise wound. Almost like a surgical incision. Nora’s blood had been all over the weapon, but what about their Jane Doe?

Both were tall, blonde, and relatively thin for their condition. Coincidence?

Or was she merely putting the two together because Davis had suggested it? As if the other woman knew more than she let on. “I gotta go, Mark. I’ll check back later.”

“Sure.”

Amanda turned and retraced her steps. She needed to catch up to Davis and decipher her odd departures of the day and her visit to the house last night.

“One more thing.” Mark’s voice held an edge of hesitancy.

She turned back, something dark crawling into her gut.

“There’s lots of speculation going on—about you and Davis and your work ethic. How you might have used your connections to get out of a few tight spots. Maybe found a fall guy in your former partner. Maybe Davis helped you. Maybe not. I’m not saying I believe all the talk…”

She’d heard it all before. It didn’t stop the swell of frustration humming in her bloodstream, making her wish she had the guts to walk away from Charlotte’s safekeeping without a care. “What are
you
saying, Mark?”

“I thought you should know she and a gentleman had what looked like a heated discussion right outside the front doors. Never seen the guy before. Tall, dark hair. Pressed suit. He didn’t seem threatening, but he didn’t look happy either. He blocked her attempt to enter the building at least twice before storming off.”

Amanda had never seen her partner with anyone of the opposite sex that wasn’t within law enforcement. And even then, the other detective tended to keep everyone, men and women alike, as far out of her inner circle as propriety would allow, and maybe a tad farther.

“And this is interesting because…?”

He shoved one hand in his pocket. “Because I was outside when it happened. And I heard him say something about our Jane Doe’s fingerprints. That no one could ever discover the truth. Instead of demanding answers, she silenced him. As if the outcome was more important to her than him. And then he handed over a tape.”

What the…?

“I wanted you to know. That’s all.”

“What kind? Mini, VHS, cassette?” Amanda glanced at the door and tried to get her heart into a normal rhythm.

“VHS. One of those thick, black plastic kinds.”

Could be nothing. “Did she have access to the prints already?”

“Yesterday.”

And she hadn’t mentioned running them through any database. Was Robinson’s suspicion warranted? “I’m gonna need a formal statement.”

He gave a grim nod.

“Thanks, Mark.”

She exited the building and caught sight of Davis’ brown Toyota pulling from the lot. As if someone had lit a large bonfire under her, Davis maneuvered the vehicle through the row and toward the street. She had her phone pressed to her ear, her focus on the road ahead.

Amanda headed for her vehicle and pulled her cell from her pocket. Dialed Robinson’s number and prepared for a conversation that might be difficult at best.

“Took you long enough.” The crunch of an apple came over the line, but didn’t belie the annoyance filling each of his syllables. “We gonna talk about this?”

“Nope.”

“That’s not how this works, A.J.”

No, it wasn’t. “How long do I have before you present the evidence to Sergeant Brink?”

“Who said I was going to?”

No answer would satisfy. This was the man who searched for evidence everyone thought they already had. He was honest to a fault. Loved like there was no tomorrow. Didn’t give up when things looked bleak. All of it was endearing and frustrating. And made him who he was. “Don’t be stupid, Robbie.”

“I’m just borrowing a page from a chapter of your book. You know, taking a chance on what I believe in.”

No. She didn’t want that. It meant risk neither of them could afford. The loss of the hard-won reputation at least one of the two of them could still tout. The whispers that didn’t touch him. She wanted—

“I can tell by your silence that it makes you super happy and is beyond flattering. So much so, I’ve rendered you speechless.” He sighed. “What’s for dinner?”

Amanda pinched the bridge of her nose. Shook her head. “Nothing for you, smart guy.”

If Mark was hearing snippets of gossip, how much more was Robinson dealing with? And he never said a word. “Is there anything in
that
file I need to know about?”

“That’s all relative. I’ve asked Dexter to take a look at it.”

“Dexter?” Robinson’s friend worked for the Bureau of Prisons. He didn’t typically offer profiling services, was generally speculative and saw potential when no one else could.

“Yes. I would have told you that when you were here if you’d stuck around. Instead—”

“We aren’t talking about it, remember?”

A huff came through the line. “You ever wonder why Davis is always everywhere? Always seems to have the right answers. Cool. In control. Yet completely aloof. So much so that most people stop trying to get past her barriers after a few tries. Label her as a loner. One who is decent at her job. Has had a little good fortune to be in the right place at the right time.

“Well, I’m not buying it. And what’s with all the sickness? She’s either lying about being pregnant, she’s dying, it’s self-inflicted or she can’t handle crime scenes. And if it’s the latter, why become a homicide detective?”

Amanda blinked. Tried not to let his words smash the remaining bubbles of Davis’ innocence still bobbing in her mind. She’d heard those whispers about herself. Minus the sickness and the aloof and often cantankerous attitude. “You’ve put a lot of thought into this.”

“I’ve had time on my hands.”

“You were off work for two weeks.” His doctors had advised taking a month to recoup after the accident. The stubborn man had gone and gotten cleared by the FBI. Returned to his duties as if he’d played out the turn of events a million times and this was one more incident he could add to the list. “Ever think you might be wrong?”

“You want me to be wrong.
I
want me to be wrong. Doesn’t mean I’m going to ignore my gut.”

Like she’d been ignoring hers, about everything in complete obstinacy. “If you’re consulting Dexter, I want in on it too.”

“That’s better.” The smile in his voice came through in every syllable. It loosened the knot in her stomach. After all the years she’d known him, she still wondered how he managed to turn everything around for the better.

When it came to Robinson, she was screwed. He knew her strengths and weaknesses. When she’d jump on board without hesitation and how to get her to do so when she employed stubbornness. “Don’t get cock—”

The squeal of tires split the air. It was followed by the crunch of metal on metal. Amanda froze for half a second before turning in the direction the noise had come from. Beyond the building, a white fifteen-passenger van had t-boned a brown Toyota and pinned it between its metal and a willow oak. Smoke rolled off the larger vehicle’s hood.

Was that Davis’ car?

The blare of a horn sounded in the sudden quiet.

Amanda’s legs carried her in that direction on instinct.

“A.J.?” The initials ran together in the half-soothing way he used sometimes. Only now it held a hint of anxiety that jumped into her body.

“Do me a favor. Call 911.” She jogged toward the vehicles. “I’ve got an accident outside of the lab.”

The van lurched backward, its tires peeling against the asphalt. Amanda halted near the chain-link fence surrounding the building. The natural fight-or-flight reaction took control of every muscle in her body, while her brain decided the appropriate response.

The whining rev of the engine came seconds before the vehicle gunned toward her. She let out an expletive and dove to the right. Her elbow and knee made purchase on hard concrete first. The rest of her body followed suit in a roll that sent her into the street. And closer to Davis’ unmoving form within her car.

Her phone flew from her grasp. It skidded to a stop beneath a tire as the van rammed into the fence. The vehicle tore forward, crunching over her device. Then it clipped the edge of Davis’ Toyota and veered into the street like a stumbling drunk walking out of a bar.

A sting radiated up her right arm as she scrambled into a standing position. She headed for the Toyota. The driver’s side door looked as if an invisible fist had punched the metal. Remnants of the window lay scattered on the ground and the inside of the car.

Davis let out a groan, then shot upright and took in her surroundings. A trickle of red oozed from somewhere above her temple. She gave a harsh tug on the left side of her body.

A flash of another accident, another head wound, played like a horror movie in front of Amanda. Blood. So much blood. An invisible hand squeezed her windpipe. She forced a breath through her mouth.

Get a grip, Nettles.

“Stay still a second, Davis. You’ve been in an accident.” A tremor made her voice a bit raspy.

The other woman’s head snapped toward Amanda. She blinked, looked around at the scene and started a frantic pat of her body. And then she was a flourish of movement as she pulled her legs from beneath the displaced steering wheel. “Gotta get outta here.”

Amanda placed a hand on her shoulder. Delayed her struggle. “Just relax a minute. Where’s your phone?”

“My phone?” Her words were a little slow. She rubbed her free hand across her forehead. Noted the splash of red across her fingertips. A tremor started in the appendage before she clamped her fingers together and dropped her arm. She shrugged Amanda’s fingers from her body. “Move. We gotta go after that guy.”

Amanda stepped back.

Davis maneuvered her upper body through the window and placed both hands on the semi-crumpled roof of her car. Blood trailed from a giant gash on her left arm. She moved from the vehicle as if she felt nothing. No pain. No fear. Had only one thing in her sights.

In the right place. At the right time.

“That jerk ran into me on purpose.” She hopped to the ground and wavered on her haunches for a second before standing. Her face had taken on the pale hue Amanda had come to recognize as a sign that her partner was most likely about to yak. Everywhere.

And then she’d tidy up as if it had never happened. Carry on as if everyone had the same problem. And throw out attitude so thick it left a person wondering if they’d been chewed up one side and down another or been complimented.

The corner of a phone peeked from between where the cushion of the driver’s side seat met the bottom. Davis stumbled in the direction the van had gone.

“Hold up.” Amanda leaned in and swiped it. Noted a black plastic box wedged between the console and seat. It looked like a…

VHS tape holder. She grabbed it, shoved it inside her blazer and caught up with Davis.

Bit back a dose of guilt.

“You catch the plates?”

“What are you gonna do?” Amanda matched her speed. Could whiz past her partner without trying, given her five-ten stature versus Davis’ five-two. “Chase him down on foot?”

“I got a good look at the guy.” Sweat dotted her brow, which wasn’t atypical in the June heat. “He was waiting for me.” Her steps slowed.