“Let me guess. He’ll take over Turner’s old desk?” Russell Turner didn’t deserve the badge and had been a huge pain in the ass, though his true failing was his outright bigotry against people of color. There was no room for that in any capacity, on any force.
“Why not?”
Some days it felt like everyone was sitting on everyone else. “No reason,” she said.
“Good, it’s settled. And I also want to make it clear that I’m giving the lead on this case to Stenson.”
“The lead,” she blurted out. “To a rookie detective?”
He raised his eyebrows, the arches serving like upward-pointing arrows. “On paper,” he added, holding eye contact with her. “It’s the only way I can get this to fly. As it is, I’m not going to advertise it.”
“You want me to be his number two? Report to him?” She didn’t do well with being managed, let alone by an underling.
“You report to me. The rest is just on paper—for this case.”
She took a few deep breaths. “Fine.”
“So we have an understanding?”
“Yes, we have an understanding,” she mumbled.
Malone turned his head and put his left ear near her mouth. “Can you say that again? I didn’t quite hear you.”
“I’m on board,” she said, raising her voice.
Malone cringed and pulled back, cupping his ear. “No need for that. I’m doing you a favor here. And I’m not deaf—or at least I wasn’t.”
She mouthed, Sorry.
“All right, I’ll call Stenson and give him the good news.”
He pulled out his phone and headed for his vehicle but stopped after a few steps and turned. He looked at her for a long moment and said nothing. Whatever he was about to say was going to kill him if his sagging shoulders and hooded eyes gave any indication.
“In case this thing truly does turn out to be a murder, you need to get your alibi in order immediately. Without that… Well, I’m going to have to pull you from the case.”
“Shouldn’t be a problem.” After all, she knew she hadn’t killed him.
“One more thing, and I mean it. Don’t touch a thing until your partner gets here.” Malone pulled out his cell phone and put it to an ear as he walked away.
Amanda looked heavenward again. After losing her husband and daughter, she’d blamed God, but if there was any chance that He or She could intervene and give her strength to see this investigation through, she just might try prayer again.
Three
The smaller the town, the harder it was to keep secrets. It had been the bane of Amanda’s existence since she was a little girl, but she’d always managed to dismiss the murmurings and gossip. After the accident though, it came to define her. She was the “poor thing” who had lost her husband and daughter. She was marked, unable to escape the repercussions. While other people moved on with their lives, she was locked in the past. Even the rare times she caught a glimpse of the horizon, she couldn’t seem to advance toward it.
She stood outside the motel room and blinked away snowflakes, gripping her coat to herself. They didn’t get much snow in Dumfries and it was sort of magical when it did happen. Lindsey used to squeal with delight and come running to Amanda. “Mommy, Mommy, can I play outside?”
“Amanda? Hello.”
“What?”
“Where’s the sarge going?” Cud nodded toward Sergeant Malone, who was getting into his vehicle.
“Not his keeper,” she replied as Malone drove off. He probably wanted to remove himself as far as possible from this investigation. Normally he hung around crime scenes longer.
“You get the case?” Cud asked.
“I did.”
“Figures. And I’m your number two?”
“A shit? Yeah.” She didn’t really have a problem with Cud, not normally anyway. She just didn’t appreciate him accusing her of being unable to remain objective with this case.
He frowned. “Very funny.”
“And no, you’re not the number two. I am.” At least on paper, she thought.
“You—” Cud laughed. “I’ll be. Steele’s getting a partner. Still not me, I’m guessing?”
“Seeing as Malone never said a word to you? Wow, you should make detective.”
“Whatever. Guess I’m out of here then.” Cud trudged toward his vehicle, head into the wind.
Amanda walked over to Becky, who was stationed next to her cruiser. Sergeant Greer must have left while Amanda was talking to Malone.
“You okay?” Amanda asked Becky.
“Yeah, of course.”
“It looked like Greer was laying into you a bit.”
Becky rolled her eyes. “She can be a piece of work.”
“What was it all about?”
“I left my post for a millisecond, but Greer overheard Malone asking why you were here and she got the sense you shouldn’t be here, so she blamed me for letting you on scene. Anyway, enough about me. Malone give you the go-ahead?”
“If it’s a murder.”
“Can’t say I’m surprised. You have Malone wrapped around your finger.”
“Correction: my father has him wrapped around his. I just get to benefit.”
“Whatever way it goes,” Becky said. “I’m still worried about you.”
“No need. I’ve been through more than this.”
“I’m just afraid that ‘this’ is going to trigger the past.”
Amanda didn’t know how to respond. After all, what didn’t trigger the past? She was mired there. But maybe by investigating Palmer’s death, she could put all the guilt and the feelings of turmoil behind her and start to heal. What she knew for sure was there certainly wasn’t any way she could watch the case from the outside. She’d go crazy wondering where things stood.
“Why aren’t you in the room, doing your thing?” Becky asked.
“I need to wait for my partner to show—”
“Whoa, hold up. You are getting a partner?”
“Yep. Trent Stenson.”
Becky grinned, showing teeth, the expression touching her eyes. “What a great break for him. He must have just been transferred to Homicide.”
“He was.” She couldn’t conjure any enthusiasm at his dream coming true.
“He’ll be great. You’ll see.”
“Maybe.” She hitched her shoulders.
“Okay, what’s the problem? I know you don’t like working with a partner, but—”
“He’s the primary on the investigation.”
“Oh.” Becky’s mouth dropped open. “He’s—”
“Yeah, new, a rookie. Apparently, he’s the lead on paper. Only way Malone would let me work the case at all.”
“I see.”
“At least one of us does. So while I wait, I’m not to touch anything, but you can bring me up to speed. Who found him, for starters?”
“The hotel manager, guy by the name of Ronnie Flynn. He was headed down there”—Becky pointed to an ice chest against the motel—“for some cubes for his drink. He saw the curtains were open, said his eye was naturally drawn to look inside.”