The Little Grave (Detective Amanda Steele)

Hill withdrew a folded newspaper from her bag, handed it to Amanda, and set her bag on the cabinet next to her. “Not sure if you’ve had a chance to read the latest?”

Amanda glanced at the copy of the Prince William Times in her hand. “What am I looking at?”

“Right on the cover.” Hill pointed with a manicured fingertip. “By all means, go ahead and read. We’ll wait.” Hill pasted on a tight-lipped smile for her and let it carry to Malone. “Go ahead,” she reiterated.

Lead sank in Amanda’s gut, a premonition setting in that everything was about to come crumbling down on top of her. She’d rather Hill scream and shout, but that wasn’t how the woman operated. She toyed with her subordinates through the subtleties of misleading displays of compassion and understanding. Like a psychopath, she ba

tted her opponents with her paws, claws retracted until the final moment when she was going in for the kill. Amanda could feel her demise breathing down the back of her neck.

She set her coffee on the edge of Malone’s desk and slowly flipped and unfolded the paper. In large bold letters were the words PWCPD Playing Favorites and Murder Victim to Pay the Price. The article had been written by Fraser Reyes and, as Amanda read, her stomach twisted and balled, and her chest grew tighter. Reyes had painted the PWCPD as a bunch of cops more loyal to a former police chief than to finding justice. It alleged that by letting Detective Steele, the former police chief’s daughter, work an investigation into the murder of the man involved in the accident that had claimed her family’s life, the PWCPD was hosting a faux investigation, intent on sweeping Chad Palmer’s murder under the rug. Reyes also reported that Detective Amanda Steele had been so ardent in questioning Palmer’s girlfriend—who preferred to remain unnamed—that she was considering suing the department for harassment.

Amanda gripped the paper, the newsprint crinkling under her fingers. She wanted to hurl the thing across the room.

“All of this came as a shock to me,” Hill said, drawing Amanda’s gaze. “The fact that you’d be working this case in any capacity at all… Abhorrent thought, really.” Hill’s words were concise and prim, laced and dripping with acid.

Sure, Amanda had messed up, but it was the damn small community of slack jaws that had truly bitten her in the ass! If only she’d sent Trent solo to Courtney Barrett. And to think that she hadn’t the decency to acknowledge that she knew who Amanda was to her face. She glanced at Malone.

“He can’t save you from this mess, and there’s a lot to be cleaned up, Detective. All because you put your nose in where it didn’t belong.” She smoothed out her skirt. “Now, I’m sorry for what happened to your family—” She paused; she must have witnessed the rage in Amanda’s eyes.

Amanda wanted to lash back that she highly doubted the lieutenant was sorry at all. She’d wager Hill may have even reveled in her tragedy.

“As I was saying,” Hill continued, “I’m sorry for what happened to your family, but I can’t have the community thinking that Prince William County PD turns a blind eye to justice, to conflict of interest. I’m sure you understand.”

Amanda clenched her teeth so hard, a pain shot through her jaw. All those girls caught up in the sex-trafficking ring. Was she just supposed to turn her back on them?

“Sergeant Malone has explained to me that this reporter, a Mr.…” Hill nudged her chin toward the paper still in Amanda’s hands.

“Fraser Reyes,” Amanda said coolly. Hill knew exactly what his name was but just wanted to exert her power. More batting of her paws.

“Yes, well, Sergeant Malone has assured me that Mr. Reyes has exaggerated his facts, but just the hint of scandal, that we as PWCPD are willing to sacrifice our service to the community, well, it’s to be taken seriously indeed.”

Hill stopped talking and crossed her legs at the ankles. All a play at dramatics to relax her prey, when her softened posture just meant the claws were about to come out. “Malone did confirm that you had made some inquiries early in the case, but that you’ve taken a back seat in the investigation itself. Is that correct?” She arched her brows and managed to look down on Amanda, who was standing, from her seated position.

“Detective?” Hill prompted.

“That’s correct,” Amanda forced out.

“From what I understand from Malone, the actual lead on the case is Detective Stenson.” Hill leveled her gaze at her, expecting a response.

“Correct,” Amanda confirmed.

“So you both expect me to believe that you’ve been reporting to a rookie?” She scoffed laughter, looking from Amanda to Malone and back again. “Excuse me, but I’m calling complete and utter bullshit on that.” A splash of red filled her cheeks. “But it’s a good thing for you that I’m a reasonable woman and a team player.” She shot a threatening look at Malone. “And if those who report to me tell me something, I like to believe them, I endeavor to believe them, but I really should suspend you both.”

Hill let the threat sit in the air, and the room went silent except for breathing and the ticking clock on the wall. Eventually, Hill spoke again. “But I’m not going to—officially anyhow. At least not yet. However, let me make this perfectly clear, Detective. You are not to touch this case again.”

A ball knotted in Amanda’s chest. Just when she had started to feel a spark of purpose again, this witch had stomped it out. Well, screw it! She wasn’t the only cop who could save those girls and bring the sick bastards involved to justice. She’d fill in Trent, and someone from Sex Crimes was probably already on it.

“You know what?” Amanda unclipped her badge from her waist. “Take it!”

Hill’s eyes enlarged, but a smirk toyed at the corners of her mouth. Malone was shaking his head.

Amanda proceeded to remove her holster and firearm. “Take it all.” She shoved the items toward Hill, but the lieutenant wouldn’t take them. Amanda dropped them on the cabinet next to her.

“Are you quitting?” Hill asked, sounding too pleased by the prospect.

“I’m doing what you don’t have the guts to do; I’m suspending myself.”

“You can’t—”