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May settled on the couch in the living room, and looked at Amanda with sorrow-filled eyes. Her chin quivered, and she fussed with the hem of her shirt. The skin on her hands was nearly translucent and speckled with age spots, something that Amanda hadn’t noticed before today. May usually kept herself so busy moving, this was one of the rare times she was still.
“You have bad news for me, don’t you?” May stiffened, pushed out her chin. “Just tell me, Amanda. We’ve known each other far too long for you to pussyfoot.”
Amanda used her imagination to project the current scenario onto fictional characters. To think of all this affecting real-life flesh and blood was too much. “We were unsuccessful.”
May gasped out but didn’t cry. Dee returned, sat next to her friend, and took her hand.
“They got away. Officers pursued but were unable to keep up.” Amanda doled out the bad news in bite-size pieces for her benefit and May’s. “The good news is they never made off with the money.”
“How is that a good thing?” Dee asked.
“It means that they’ll likely be calling again and making another request for an exchange, ma’am,” Trent said.
“But he specifically said, ‘no police’ or…” May’s voice faded to nothingness. Then, “This is all my fault. I should have handled this.” She cried surprisingly gently and rather controlled.
“This is not your fault,” Amanda offered quickly, resisting the urge to assume the blame herself despite guilt curdling in her gut. Trent might even blame her as he’d hardly said a word from the park to here.
“The only person responsible is the man and woman who have your niece,” Trent added with conviction.
Amanda looked at him and blinked slowly, striving to communicate a silent “Thank you.” She gingerly touched May’s shoulder. “Detective Greenway is on his way back here. He’ll be around when you get another call.”
As if responding to her cue, said detective walked into the house.
Amanda and Trent took this time to excuse themselves. She hugged May tight before leaving.
In the car, she turned to Trent. “What’s eating at me, is why did she leave the money? She had it and was so close to getting into the van.”
“I’ve been bothered by the same thing, and I can’t see her partner being too happy about her choice. He’s proved himself willing to kill for less.”
“The woman may have signed her own death warrant. But all this brings up the suspicion that came up for me yesterday. Remember I suggested she got in over her head and wanted out when we were watching that video at Captain Ron’s Marina? That might explain why she left the money.”
“Still a stupid move, if you ask me.”
Her phone chimed with a text message, and she checked it before Trent got them moving to Central. She could hardly believe what she was seeing.
FORTY
Just after leaving May’s house, Amanda and Trent were armed with a crucial lead. It came via text and informed them an officer snapped a picture of the woman’s face when the van tore past. He must possess the trigger finger of a professional photographer because he’d nailed it. But it wasn’t all luck. The woman had removed her balaclava. She was in her late twenties with dark blond hair and green eyes.
“I just don’t understand why she’d do that before they fled the area unless it’s as you say, and she wants out,” Trent said as they walked to their cubicles. It was just after noon when they got back to Central.
“It has to be.” Amanda put the bag of money on her desk.
“Are you just going to keep toting it around?” Trent asked. “You should lock it up someplace.”
He was right, of course. It was a substantial sum but simply a tool. Even so, she ended up securing it in a locker in the station’s restroom. After all, she had some time before they would be able to speak with Lowell Mooney. He was being brought up from holding, and that would take a few minutes.
When she returned to her desk, Trent was hard at work at his. She sat at hers. With the excitement of that morning, she hadn’t had a chance to check her email.
It would be nice if good news was waiting there, like a fast hit on the female accomplice. Malone told her the lab would be running her photo through facial recognition databases.
“Amanda.” Trent dragged out her name and seemed to be having a hard time taking his eyes off his screen.
She got up and joined him in his cubicle.
“Digital Forensics emailed, and you’re not going to believe this. They were able to clear up the license plate on the van.”
“We have a number?”
