The Little Grave (Detective Amanda Steele)

“It is,” she confirmed.

A light brightened Freddy’s eyes and he smiled. “How interesting. What is it I can do for you, Officer?”

“I need some…” She was tempted to leave it open for Freddy to make the determination based on her desired results, but it was best she stuck with what she knew. “Looking for some Xanax. I trust you can help me with that?”

“Maybe.” Freddy let his gaze linger over her body.

“Don’t waste my time. You have it or you don’t.” She was shaking inside but hoping that she was doing a convincing job of projecting herself as brave and in control.

Freddy clucked his tongue. “Feisty. I like it.”

“Like it less and get me the pills.”

He put his hands on his hips and angled his head. “Normally I’d say the first taste is on the house, but you’re a cop. You pay. Five for fifty.”

She fished into a pocket and pulled out cash. “Only have three twenties.”

“I don’t make change.”

“Make it six pills then.” She wasn’t about to get into negotiating with a drug dealer. She just wanted the business over with.

Freddy snapped his fingers and Rat set out into the bowels of the house, leaving Amanda alone with Freddy, who was still ogling her.

He ran his tongue along his top lip. “What makes a cop—”

She narrowed her eyes. “Like you really give a shit.”

Rat returned with a small baggie, which he gave to Freddy, who in turn extended it toward Amanda, but then drew his hand back. “Nuh-uh, money first.”

She slapped the bills into his open palm, and he gave her the pills.

He sniffed the cash. “Nice doing business with you.”

She left as fast as her legs would take her. She never should have come. Never. She sure hoped the benefits outweighed the assumed risk.

She got into her car, slammed the door, and eyed the pills in the baggie. Just one, she told herself, that’s all it will take to ease the pain. Besides, it was too late to turn back now.

She unzipped the baggie and had one capsule pinched between her fingers when someone banged on the driver’s window. She jumped and the pills flew everywhere.

Rat’s face was pressed against the glass, and he was pointing his finger down. She lowered the window a crack.

“Don’t be showing up here again. You want more, you call, and we’ll arrange a meet.” He slid a card through the opening and waited for her to take hold of it, which she did with a trembling hand.

“Just remember. We know who you are, Copper—Civic six four six.”

Her stomach tossed. That was the car model and part of her license tag.

He tapped the roof of her car and left with a smug smile on his slimy face.

She put the window back up and looked at the empty baggie still in one hand, the card in the other. A simple card that could have come off Freddy’s home printer. It just had F and a phone number. She stuffed it into her console and set about searching the floor for the pills. She collected three from around her feet, but the others must have fallen under her seat. She bent forward and reached blindly beneath her but came out empty-handed.

“Damn it all!” She got out of the car and searched using the flashlight on her phone. She found them, along with a plastic water bottle on the back floormat. She lifted it up. Empty. Just great. She’d never mastered swallowing pills dry and as she got into the driver’s seat again, she caught the time on the dash clock. Quarter past four. She really needed to get to the station. She sealed the pills in the baggie, zipped it in her coat pocket, and headed for the station.

Nine

Prince William County Police Department had about seven hundred officers and three stations, as well as seven other facilities for things such as public safety training, animal control, and licensing. Homicide, under the Violent Crimes Bureau, worked out of the Central District Station in Woodbridge. The building had opened a few years ago and was marked by a grand opening to the public. It was mostly a single-story redbrick structure with the exception of one second-story office tower, sided with formed aluminum panels and situated on a country lot surrounded by trees. It would have been a serene setting if not for the nature of the investigations that went on inside the station’s walls. In addition to Homicide, there were bureaucratic offices, including the one that belonged to the police chief.

Amanda was ravaged by guilt and paranoia as she made her way through the front doors. As if everyone in the building would know that she’d just scored illegal prescription drugs—that they were on her person, no less. She watched people she passed for any tells they were onto her, but she was aware it had to be her imagination working overtime. After all, they’d have no way of knowing what was in her pocket. She still felt eyes on her though, but that was probably because Cud had opened his big mouth and anyone