The Little Grave (Detective Amanda Steele)

His eyes met hers and she felt a twinge of regret for speaking her mind.

“And I haven’t done anything wrong,” she said. “That’s why I need you to come forward and confirm that we were together last night.”

“How much detail is needed?”

“You’re impossible to talk to right now.”

“Let’s not talk then. Nighty-night— Oh, looks like my cab’s here anyway. Saved by the cab.” He laughed at his own joke and walked toward the yellow taxi that had pulled into the lot.

“Unbelievable!” she said to the night air, and apparently a couple headed into the bar, as both looked at her. “Never mind. Just the boyfriend’s driving me mad,” she told them.

They barely acknowledged her, but Amanda could have sworn she saw the woman roll her eyes as she nestled closer to her date.

Amanda stood there with her arms crossed. This ridiculous interaction had driven home why she only had one-night stands. It meant she didn’t have to deal with impossible man-babies who carted around their own emotional baggage.

Malone would just have to accept she couldn’t pin down her alibi. No matter what she’d face at his hands, it couldn’t be as bad as what had just transpired here. And maybe she’d get removed from the case and have a way out of keeping her word. It had been what she’d wanted anyway, right? At least before the investigation got interesting with the bracelet and the data chip…

She stomped back to her car, chastising herself the entire way. She’d blown any chance of securing her alibi. She doubted Motel Guy would be returning to the Tipsy Moose anytime soon, especially if he viewed her as some crazy who couldn’t let go of their night together.

She stopped walking. She was right next to the bumper of Motel Guy’s Dodge Ram pickup.

She pulled out her phone, brought up the notepad app, and keyed in the license plate. “Got you, you son of a—” Her phone rang. It was Jacob.

“You got something?”

“Oh, yeah, and it’s not pretty.”

“What’s on it?”

“Spreadsheets, photos, tracking of bank-transfer confirmations.” Jacob sounded like he was chewing on bile. “Whoever this bracelet belonged to, Amanda, was or still is involved in sex trafficking. There’s hundreds of them, Mandy, and some of them are just babies—as young as six and seven.”

She put a hand on her stomach. “We’ve got to get Sex Crimes in the loop.” Amanda typically did her best to curtail her involvement in sex-related crimes; she preferred grisly murder scenes instead.

“They’ll be my next call.”

“Okay, keep me posted. But when could I take a look at what’s on there?” It was a path she felt necessary, though she wasn’t looking forward to it by any means.

“If you want to… I’m having nightmares tonight. But I’ll do my best to get everything loaded onto the mainframe tonight. Should be there come morning. I’ll text you once it is.”

“Thanks. Oh, and Jacob…” She went on to explain a bit about the history of the bracelet and how it had come into her hands, then said, “I realize the chain of evidence may be a little broken—”

“A little.”

“Yeah, well, I still want someone from Forensics to see if they can get any epithelial, possible DNA. We won’t be able to use any results to confirm ownership of the bracelet in court, but it could point us in the right direction to evidence we can use.”

“We? You keep saying we. Sort of stuck on that. Aren’t you a lone wolf?”

She sighed. “Don’t get me started. Bye.”

There was little more she could do tonight. She highly doubted Freddy was aware of the bracelet’s chip and contents or he never would have handed it over so easily. Really the same went for Palmer, it occurred to her now. If he was involved in the ring, he wouldn’t have given the bracelet to Freddy.

She massaged her temple. This case was proving to be physically and mentally exhausting. She glanced back at the bar. She’d grab a couple of sliders to go and head home.

She scarfed the mini burgers as she drove and cracked her car’s windows, hoping the cold night air would wake her up and backed it by blaring some rock station out of Washington. But as exhausted as her body was, her mind was awake. At least she had something to help with that. She slipped her hand into he

r jacket pocket, as if to simply assure herself the baggie of pills was still there.

Her phone rang over the speaker, cutting out the music, and it jolted her and caused her to swerve slightly. Maybe she shouldn’t be driving, but it was too late to worry about that now. Besides, she’d be home soon.