Her Frozen Cry (Detective Amanda Steele)

“See why it has me excited now?”

“Yes, I kind of do. So who knows that?”

“Could be anyone close to Alicia or Eve, who also had an interest in the future of New Belle.”

“Tony Bishop and Harold Armstrong pop to mind.”

“What about Brad Gordon, Alicia’s son? We haven’t discussed him before but he had a stake in the company’s future.”

“Tony and Brad could be the person from the videos, but I’m not seeing a motive for Brad. How can he know who the bidders were, and why would he care about the business one way or another? Given all the stipulations in Alicia’s will to ensure Brad benefited financially from the business, it would make sense she’d compensate him generously if she sold it. And it’s not like he wasn’t being financially provided for before Alicia’s death.”

“What if we’ve been pigeon-holing the investigation, making motive all about money and the company when it isn’t?”

“The threats all point in that direction.”

“Sure, but if you look at the murder method, poisoning, that’s more personal in nature.”

His words landed like a rock, but could it reconcile at all with the rest of what they’d learned? Her phone rang, and caller ID told her it was Zoe’s therapist’s office. “Amanda Steele,” she answered and proceeded to ask if there was any way to squeeze Zoe in for an appointment today.

“We have an opening that just became available,” the woman said. “If you could get her here for four?”

Amanda looked at the clock on the wall. 12:07 PM. “I can.”

“We’ll see you then.” The woman hung up, and Amanda sent a quick text to Libby to let her know she would be getting Zoe from school today, then she tucked her phone away.

“Everything all right with Zoe?” Concern filled Trent’s voice.

“She’s just been through a lot, as you know.” She and Trent had been assigned the investigation into Zoe’s parents’ murders last September. In some ways, that felt like a lifetime ago; in others, like yesterday.

“I can’t imagine being in her shoes.”

“Me neither. Seeing your father murdered right in front of you—how do you recover from that?” Amanda left it there, but she recalled that not long after the incident had happened, the police psychologist had said children processed trauma differently than adults. They didn’t have points of reference to rationalize what they’d seen to start making sense of it. Processing was more about acceptance.

“At least Zoe has you,” Trent said, his facial expression tender and his eyes full of confidence.

“Thank you.”

“Don’t mention it.”

Moments like these, when Trent was so compassionate and understanding, reassuring and expressing faith in her, she found it hard not to cross that line. As Becky had suggested, maybe it was time for her to start dating and enjoying adult company, but Trent was most certainly off the table. He had to be.