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Her father shook his head, smirking. “Look at it another way. You can’t control everyone’s actions. Surely you know that?”
“I do.”
“And it’s not your job to seize that control. Your job is to make sense of the aftermath and bring closure and justice. By doing this, and getting killers off the street, you protect the rest of the community from harm. You serve by your actions—one step at a time, one case at a time. Now, you can’t solve them all, but you keep going because the fire to save the next victim keeps you going. You hold on to that and uphold your oath.”
“Serve and protect.” Her voice was barely above a whisper. The resolution was so simple in retrospect. She’d just never sat still with her thoughts long enough to break them down as her father just had.
“Exactly. Just remember, this job is never about you, kiddo. It was never about me. It’s the much larger picture. Keep that in focus.”
She nodded, unable to speak for the time being. Her father’s words had struck her heart.
“I’m ready.” Zoe came prancing toward her.
Amanda hugged her father and kissed his cheek, drew back and said, “Thanks, Dad.”
“Anytime you need to talk, I’m here.”
She nodded, holding back a flood of tears as some relief eased in. There was nothing humanly possible she could do that would turn back the clock and prevent Felicity’s murder. Her power was closure, justice, and saving other potential victims. And if she had any say, no one else would suffer at the hands of the killer they currently hunted.
FOURTEEN
Amanda woke up refreshed and ready to make headway in the Kelley case. Her talk with her father last night had been what she’d needed to hear, and his advice was wise. While the guilt wasn’t entirely gone, it had quieted. It was the logic of the matter. The past couldn’t be changed, but the future was of her making. This thinking transformed the what ifs and if onlys into even ifs. Even if she had answered Felicity Kelley’s call, she might not have been able to save her. Fact. And viewing Felicity’s murder in this light had recalibrated her outlook. It gave her a renewed sense of purpose and determination.
Logan was spending the day with Zoe—tired and hungover, regardless. Sadly, it was just the beginning of his penance for last night’s overindulgence. Zoe was expecting to go to a local place that offered an arcade, bowling, and glow-in-the-dark miniature golf. With summer vacation nearing its end, the place was going to be packed with screaming, rambunctious kids. She’d have mercy on him and exchange places if it wasn’t for this case.
Amanda grabbed a coffee for herself and Trent from Hannah’s Diner on her way to the station. It was the least she could do as he’d kept working last night. Despite his assurance it was no problem, she didn’t want to take him for granted. She even added a chocolate donut—his favorite kind—to the order.
She entered Central and headed straight to his work area. Their spaces were separated by a low partition about forehead level. It afforded some privacy while making communicating easy as well.
Trent was at his desk, his head bent over Felicity Kelley’s phone, or so she surmised.
“Here you go.” She plucked one cup from the takeout tray and handed it to him, then the small brown bag.
“Ooh, what do we have here…?” He unrolled the bag and peeked inside. “This is a good day.” He dipped his hand inside and took out his treat. He chomped off a bulging mouthful, leaving his eyes to do the smiling. “Thank you,” he mumbled around the donut. “A very good day.”
“Uh-huh. Now, after you’ve swallowed, fill me in on what you’ve got. I assume that’s Felicity’s phone?” She pointed to the device he’d set on his desk in favor of collecting his goodies from her.
“Mmm. Hmm.” He nodded to accompany his mumbling.
She smiled at the sight before her. It was like her partner hadn’t eaten before in his life. “Have you found anything helpful yet?” She couldn’t be certain he’d have notified her last night, as he’d seemed quite intent on giving her space.
He held up a finger and swallowed a mouthful. It bulged in his throat, kicking out his Adam’s apple. “Ah, no.”
“Was wishing for a different answer…” She dropped onto the corner of his desk, perching there.
“Me too, but I barely scratched the surface. As for her email, though, unless Felicity has another email address that wasn’t being delivered to the app, there’s nothing concerning there. No stalker-type messages in her deleted folder either.”
“What about in her inbox?”
“I started with the deleted ones as you’d suggested. That’s as far as I got—you saw how many thousands there were.”
“I did. Maybe her agent or publisher will be able to point us in someone’s direction.”
“We can always hope.”
“No emails from deranged fans, but what did you find?”
“Lots of spam, messages from her publisher and agent, some from the media requesting interviews. The latter I’d suspect Felicity deleted after forwarding to her literary agent to handle, though I didn’t verify this with the sent folder.”
