Black Orchid Girls (Detective Amanda Steele)

“We’ll need to get a copy of this video sent over to someone in Tech,” she said. “May I suggest Detective Jacob Briggs with Digital Crimes?”

“Okay,” Malone said slowly.

“He knows what he’s doing.” Amanda shouldn’t need to remind him that Briggs had done them a favor with the Parker case a couple of months ago, and his work had greatly advanced the investigation. “He’ll probably be able to clean up the image, maybe get us a license plate even.” Though that might take a miracle given the darkness of the video, but fingers crossed he could work his magic and make it out.

“Consider it done.”

As they spoke, the video continued to move ahead, but there was nothing that helped them identify the mystery figure. When all fell completely black, Todd stopped the playback.

She turned to Malone. “If we can figure out the car type, someone with the proper skill set could approximate this person’s height.”

“That’s if we can determine make and model.”

“Someone who knows cars, the spread of headlights…” She stopped talking. She knew just the person. Her brother had been born with a wrench in his hand. Even after all the business schooling their parents had paid for, he’d pursued his love of the automobile and held a job managing a local mechanic shop—only because the owner also let him get his hands dirty.

“Bet Kyle could help,” Malone said, as if reading her mind.

She nodded. “I bet he could.” Her relationship with her brother was still a little rocky at the moment. Back when Kevin and Lindsey died, Amanda had pulled away from her family thinking it would ease her heartbreak, but in hindsight she’d made things worse for everyone. Her decision, as it turned out, had serious repercussions. Their mother did something that could never be undone—a life and death action. For that Kyle blamed Amanda. And while everything had ended up working out from one perspective, her brother had yet to forgive her for the role he perceived she’d played in the matter.

Malone directed Todd Hampton to get a copy of the video to Amanda immediately.

“Something noteworthy,” Trent started. “This person was dropped off.”

“So, did the killer take a taxi or some other driving service?” Amanda’s arms pricked with goosebumps. Another lead. “I didn’t see any lit sign on the roof or through the front windshield, though.” Car services placed signs on the front dash, facing out, to identify themselves.

“Could have been turned off,” Trent said. “Either way, we’ll need to reach out to cab companies, etcetera. Hopefully something can be made of the plate and headlights.”

“Guess we’ll see,” she said and considered something else. “The girl’s car is no longer in the lot, so it’s quite likely the killer left in her vehicle. And if he did, where is it now?”

“I’d get an APB out, but we have no idea what kind of car she drove,” Malone said.

“This might help.” Helen was gesturing emphatically toward her monitor. “Her name was Chloe Somner.”

Finally. Their Jane Doe had a real name. But instead of bringing a sense of relief, it only heightened Amanda’s determination to find justice for the girl.