The Little Grave (Detective Amanda Steele)

Amanda shrugged. “Who knows how long it could have been there. My guess is it hasn’t exactly been detailed in years.”

Donnelly chuckled. “Ah, no. The thing smells like a gym locker.”

“Any sign of stolen goods or a compartment under the back seat?” Amanda asked.

“Yes to the compartment, but it’s empty.”

Amanda turned to Trent. “Someone who Palmer turned the goods over to not happy with the deal? Could have come after him?” She dismissed it with a wave of her hand, recalling her earlier thought on the matter. “Never mind. Someone like that would likely just shoot him in the head, not force-feed him alcohol and hang around for hours.” As she said this, it sank in how dismissive she was being about the AA sobriety coin. After all, it would seem Palmer’s killer had cared about the drinking angle to choose the MO they had.

Donnelly returned to the car and Blair joined her. Amanda and Trent stuck around for a while longer but headed out about ten.

About fifteen minutes down the road, she said, “Why leave the Caprice at the park?”

Trent looked over at her. “Why not?”

She was trying to pin down her thoughts so she could put them into words. She shifted to face him and winced, then held up a hand to Trent. “I’m fine. Okay, Blair said there were a lot of prints. So assuming we believe that Freddy and his crew were involved with Palmer in the transporting of the stolen goods, they wouldn’t just leave it for someone to find.”

“Okay, I follow. Because they’d be in the system. They’d wipe it clean.”

“Right… So that leads me to believe whoever left the car there is someone other than Wheable, Freddy, or his crew.”

Trent’s mouth started to form who and she said, “Don’t ask. That’s what we still need to figure out.”

“I’m not sure—”

“Maybe it’s someone involved in the sex-trafficking ring that killed Palmer and dumped the car,” she put out somberly. “And/or Webb and Ritter’s killer could very well be back. We should at least consider that as a possibility, but whoever drove the Caprice there had to have had transportation to leave,” she said. “They could have walked from the park but unlikely.”

“Okay, so the killer drove their own car to the park, left it there, then—what?—took a cab to the Happy Time bar?”

“Why not?” she volleyed back.

“Whoever ended up taking the Caprice to the park could have left their vehicle anywhere and shuttled around town in a taxi.”

“Sure. Also possible.”

“All this would be assuming that the attacker in the lot was also Palmer’s killer…”

She nodded. “One working theory. Only why didn’t they shoot Palmer? They had a gun. I keep coming back to that.”

“Good question.”

A pocket of silence, then she said, “You’ll need to follow up with local cab companies and see if they picked up anyone out at the park. It will either lead us to the killer or the attacker, or one and the same.”

“I can do that.”

“And you should pop by Wheable’s, ask about the Caprice, find out if it came from him and inquire about the sobriety coin. And, heck, bring up the bracelet to him too—get his reaction but don’t say what was on it. You never know what might come up. Be very cognizant of visual tells. Courtney and Freddy need to be questioned about the bracelet and the sobriety coin too.”

“Want us to cover all that tonight?”

She smiled at the “us.”

“You’re forgetting as it stands right now, I’m not a part o

f the equation.”

“Right…”

“I’m going to talk to Malone though. But calling him right now or showing up at his door isn’t going to do either of us any favors.”