Black Orchid Girls (Detective Amanda Steele)

TEN

Amanda crossed her legs at the ankles and regarded the heartbroken couple. Human compassion had her wanting to leave them, but there were far more questions to ask. “Was Chloe seeing someone?”

Melissa and Mitch both nodded. “He’s a great kid too,” Melissa said.

“He’s going places,” Mitch added, and his face pinched in grief.

Amanda leaned forward. “What’s his name?”

“Josh Ryder.”

The jock boyfriend that Helen McCarthy had mentioned or someone else?

“Was he into sports?” Trent asked, beating her to a similar question. He must have been thinking along the same lines as her.

“Yes. Basketball. He plays for the Michaels Warriors and is studying bioengineering at the Fairfax campus. Why are you interested in Josh?”

Fairfax was about thirty minutes away, outside of Prince William County. Amanda didn’t want to get into the patch on Chloe’s backpack. That would only lead to more questions from the Somners such as when she saw it, etcetera. “Just something we are curious about in relation to the investigation. How did the two of them meet?”

“In elementary school,” Melissa said. “He’s a little older than our Chloe, but he was held back and had to repeat grade three. That’s how they met. The two of them did a lot of growing up together. Still had a lot of growing up to do.” She blinked away a fresh batch of tears. “Things didn’t get romantic between them until college.”

Amanda nodded.

“I thought they’d wind up getting married someday, not that Chloe ever wanted to hear me carry on about that. She called me old-fashioned.” Melissa smiled.

The woman was riding a wave of acceptance and nostalgia, but it would be brief and fleeting at best. Amanda smiled back. “She was independent and a forward thinker?”

“Fiercely independent. And definitely.” Melissa attempted to hold her expression, but it faltered and didn’t reach her eyes.

“We’ll need Josh’s information too,” Amanda said.

“Of course. But he wouldn’t have hurt her. Never,” Melissa stamped out.

“We’ll still need to speak with him,” Amanda said firmly.

“They’re just doing their job, Mel.” Mitch lifted his wife’s hand and drew it to his chest where he held it pressed over his heart.

The action was painful to watch. Amanda cleared her throat. “Speaking of, could we have a look at her room now?”

Mitch stood. “I’ll take you.”

“I’m coming too,” Melissa said.

The Somners led them through the expansive home and up to the second floor. Melissa reached for the door handle, and Amanda put out her hand. She was well aware from personal experience how difficult it was to look at the room of a dead child—even after many years had passed. She’d love to protect this couple from that marrow-bone grief. Though she knew that was impossible, the least she could do was postpone the moment.

“Please,” Melissa said, appealing to Amanda.

Amanda stepped back—albeit reluctantly—and Melissa opened the door and went inside, Mitch behind her. Trent went next, and Amanda brought up the rear, something she was grateful for as she fought off the sadness of her own memories.

The walls were painted a pale green, and the furniture was white wood. A queen-size sleigh bed, a nightstand, a long dresser with six drawers, a desk and swivel chair, and a large standing mirror. There was a vanity table too, its top and mirror plastered with photographs and flyers.

“When was your daughter last home?” Trent asked.

“End of September? Somewhere around then. Once school got into full swing she hasn’t been to stay over, but she was going to—” Melissa left the room, her body heaving with sobs.

“She was coming back for the Thanksgiving long weekend,” Mitch finished for his wife and excused himself, stepping into the hall with Melissa.

Amanda turned her back to the doorway, and to Trent, and took a deep breath. She reminded herself that she was tough and built for this job that brought death into people’s lives.

“You all right?” Trent asked.

“Absolutely.” She squared her shoulders and snapped on some gloves.

The vanity probably held more secrets than elsewhere in the room. There was nothing on the walls telling of the girl’s personality, but the pictures… they were personal. She’d guess the guy with the light-brown hair and green eyes was Josh Ryder, but it didn’t take a detective to make that leap. They were kissing in some. Leaning against each other, hugging. The smiles were wide and genuine. The pair had something special, if Amanda were any judge of relationships—which she liked to believe she was, since she’d had her once in a lifetime with her husband, Kevin.

“They were happy together,” she said, fingering the corner of one photo in which they were facing each other and laughing. “Her death is going to break his heart.”

“Unless he’s the one behind it.”

Trent’s comment was a dark cloud but also a jolt back to reality. Murder was messy, and often those closest to the victims were responsible. “Either way, we’re going to speak with him.”

Trent nodded and opened the closet doors. “Not much in here.”

“She probably kept most of her things at her townhouse.”

“Maybe, but my sister was a clotheshorse at nineteen. Still is, if you talk to her husband. They have a walk-in closet, and her things take up three-quarters of the realty there.”

Amanda was the opposite of Trent’s sister. Always had been. She bought clothes to avoid walking around naked. She certainly wasn’t a fashionista.

Amanda returned to looking at what was on the vanity. Flyers posted for local events, most of them for causes supporting the environment. There was a logo they all held in common. It was round with the tree of life sprouting from a leaf. No name, as if the image was enough to identify the organization.