The Little Grave (Detective Amanda Steele)

Sunday, January 10th, 11:30 PM Eastern Time

Amanda Steele threw her legs over the side of the bed, grabbed her underwear from the floor, and stepped into them. In the dimly lit room, she followed the trail of clothing, collecting each piece as she went along.

“Where ya goin’, darlin’?” the man, whatever-his-name, said.

First rule of one-night stands: no names.

She kept moving but pinched her eyes shut. It was January tenth, the start of a new year, and, while most people were still clinging to their resolutions, she’d resumed old habits: sleeping with strangers. But she knew better than to deceive herself into thinking she’d change. There was only one adjustment she was interested in making and it was outside of her abilities. It would require a time machine. Only she’d go further back than three hours ago when she’d picked up the handsome guy drinking beer in a Woodbridge bar.

“Come on, don’t you want to stay? We can—”

“I don’t spend the night.” Rule two. She was surprised by how often she had to tell the men that. In fact, most begged her to stay. Some even tried to lure her with the promise of breakfast. Despite men being painted as philanderers, so many were desperate for a sole, meaningful relationship.

She had found everything but her T-shirt, and a bubble of panic started in her chest as she scanned the room. Think, think, think…

Her shirt had been the first thing he’d taken off her as they stumbled into the motel room. Her gaze went to the air-conditioning unit by the door and she was relieved to see her shirt in a ball on the floor next to it. She snagged the shirt and set out for the bathroom, hugging her clothing to her chest. She shut the bathroom door behind her with her foot and halted at the sight of herself in the mirror. The green of her eyes had dulled over the last five and a half years, a testament to the fact she was doing nothing more than walking through life, barely a shadow of her former self. But she’d lost everything one tragic, fateful night. Her drive, her purpose, her career aspirations about following in her father’s footsteps and becoming police chief. The hardest hit: she’d lost her family—in one swoop. Her love and husband of ten years and her six-year-old daughter, taken out by a drunk driver.

She gripped the sink, her knuckles turning white. She’d been robbed—they’d been robbed. But she’d also been taught the harsh lesson that there was no point in making grand plans for the future. Clinging to optimism was nothing but a cruel illusion. Life held nothing but pain and sorrow. And emptiness. Hopelessness.

A single tear fell, and she swiped it away, angry at herself for bringing them into her melodrama again. As if their deaths had turned her into a woman who slept with strangers and had her popping sleeping pills every night. They were not to blame, and she didn’t need to consider their feelings. They were dead. Six feet under.

Cold. Hard. Fact.

She snapped on her bra and put on her shirt. She was zipping up her jeans when the man knocked on the door.

“You sure I can’t talk you into staying? It was pretty hot.”

Every guy found it “hot.” So many of them had bigger egos than they had—

“One more go?” he implored.

She swung the door open. He was standing there naked with one arm overhead, elbow leaned against the doorframe, his other hand positioned on his upper thigh in a cocky pose that would make most women weak in the knees. He was a handsome man—and he was right, the sex had been hot—and maybe in another life they could have been something, but she’d had the love of her life. He’d been taken away. Maybe that’s why one-night stands had become her medication, her addiction, and her punishment.

The man smiled at her and moved in to kiss her.

She stepped back and held up a hand between them. “It was fun. Now it’s over.”

“I’ve got the room for the night.” Spoken as if that made a difference.

“Enjoy.”

His shoulders sagged. “Ouch, you’re cold as ice. Can’t I get your number at least? Maybe give you a call sometime?”

She laid a tender hand on his cheek. “Now, now. You’re a big boy and you know how this works.”

Rule three: keep anonymity in all respects. No names and no personal ties. That meant no exchanging phone numbers. It was also why they’d hooked up in a motel and not at her place or his. She viewed the detachment necessary to protect her emotions but also to keep them out of her personal business. None of the men needed to be privy to her past and the baggage she carried. She didn’t want to be looked upon as some damsel in distress in need of saving, and she certainly didn’t need anyone’s pity. She got all she needed from them: a few seconds to feel something and a distraction from her grief.

“Well, I’m not really sure what to say then. Thanks?” He raked a hand through h

is hair and she almost felt sorry for him. Almost.

“Sure.” With that she grabbed her coat and left the room.

The January night air was cool on her cheeks and nipped at her nose. Christmas lights still twinkled in the windows of the motel’s lobby; any magic spells the season tried to cast were ineffective on her. Christmas was a representation of how sad and pathetic her life had become since the accident. She used to love it, but there was no point anymore. She’d lost too much, become too hardened. The only way she’d survived this past Christmas was due to the company of her best friend Becky Tulson. They’d drunk hot apple cider, shared laughter, and watched action flicks. The rest of the world could keep their seasonal feel-good movies with their carols, gingerbread, and destined soulmates. She’d had all that, but it was gone. Just like the season and any mirage of normalcy and joy.

She got into her Honda Civic, giving a quick glance at the black Dodge Ram pickup parked in the slot next to hers. It belonged to the man she’d just slept with. She could run his plate, find out his name, but there’d be no purpose. Whatever they’d shared was over.

She cranked the heat and was rewarded with an initial blast of cold air from the vents. It still wasn’t warm by the time she pulled out of the motel parking lot.