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Lindsey Julie James, beloved daughter, granddaughter, precious angel.
Beneath the inscription were the dates of her birth and her death. She’d been alive for six years, one month, and eight days.
“Oh, my baby girl, I miss you so much.” Amanda swallowed the rest of the words that came to mind, the heartfelt senti
ments such as how great it would have been to see the woman she’d have become if only given the chance. She and Kevin had always instilled etiquette into their little girl and taught her how important it was to stick to her word. Something Amanda had gotten from her mother.
“A person’s word is all any of us have or can truly control,” was something Amanda had heard a lot growing up. It was a motto that had become the backbone of how she lived her life. It had come to define her relationships and her career, and had always served her well. And now it gave her perspective on how to handle Palmer’s case.
She got up and put a hand on Lindsey’s gravestone and said, “Thank you for helping me to remember. And if you’re listening, sweetheart, send Mommy the strength to keep her word this time.”
She blew a kiss to her fingertips and pressed it to the cold granite of Lindsey’s headstone and then repeated the process with Kevin’s. “I will love you forever, Kev.”
She walked back to her car, her spirit lifted, while at the same time she could feel her body dragging. She’d give anything if it meant they’d return to her, but, until they met again, she’d do her best to make them proud.
Eight
The man who had killed her family was D.E.A.D. It should be easy to accept, but her mind was working overtime and nipping at her resolve. After all, no one would question her decision to back out. Not Malone, Becky, or Trent. That’s even if Palmer had indeed been murdered and the investigation continued in earnest. Still, she found herself headed toward the station in Woodbridge, but she took a detour in the direction of Freddy’s house. Sure, she’d managed without Xanax, but with Palmer’s release, now death, the drug called out to her. Was it enough to risk her badge? But she wasn’t even sure that meant as much to her as it once had, and her judgment may have been clouded by the memory of how just one pill could calm her nerves and silence her mind.
It was almost four in the morning by the time she stopped in front of Freddy’s and punched the steering wheel. The better part of a couple of hours had passed since she’d left Trent at Denver’s. If she took too much longer, he could call wondering where she was, though he probably didn’t want to prod her given she was really his superior.
“What am I doing?” Again, she spoke out loud as if some greater being would reply. But she had no reason to be struck by some sudden pang of guilt. She could justify her intended actions. Steeles kept their word and saw things through by whatever means necessary. And what Freddy had could help her live up to her promise to Malone not to cause drama.
She got out of the car, keeping her badge where it was, clipped to her waist, and her gun in its holster on her person, and hurried up the front walk. She banged on the metal of the screen door, and the top half kicked against the frame. She tried a couple more times and was just about to walk away when the light turned on.
The interior door opened, the person inside obscured by a nasty glare across the glass. “Whatcha want?” He was groggy, half-asleep, and pissed at the interruption.
“I’m here for Freddy,” she said, punching it out with authority.
The person stepped more into the light and she got a good look. Damien Rodriguez, street name Rat, and he was all of five-foot-five. She’d encountered him years ago when working a homicide and knew from then that his rap sheet showed he’d served time for dealing. She was quite sure he was guilty of far more than that, but she’d make peace with that if he could overlook her pending transgression.
“What business ya got with—Hey, I know you. You’re that lady cop.”
This had been a mistake. A part of her mind was screaming at her, but it was too late to turn back now. She was full speed ahead like a train on tracks. “Not here on police business.”
“To hell you’re not. Get outta here!” He pulled on the door, but she stuck her foot in to stop it from slamming shut. His face gnarled up. “What do you think you’re doin’?”
“Look.” She moved slowly and tucked her badge into her jacket pocket.
“If you ain’t here to arrest us, why then?” Rat sucked his bottom lip in, then shoved it out.
Her skin was crawling like eyes were on her, but she had to keep her focus on Rat. A brief glance over a shoulder could prove deadly. “Let me inside, and I’ll tell you.”
He studied her and didn’t move.
“Hey, you have no reason to trust me. I get that, but I’m here for personal reasons and I’m not about to conduct business out here, so either you let me inside or I’ll take my money elsewhere.”
Rat stared her down for quite some time before withdrawing into the house and leaving the door open. She took that as an invitation to enter.
There was a narrow staircase immediately inside to the right, and to the left was a living room that appeared to be busting at the seams, full of overstuffed and cracking leather couches and bulky end tables with pockmarks in the veneer.
“Freddy!” Rat yelled, and pounding footsteps sounded overhead and hit the stairs.
Freddy jogged down and scowled. “What the hell?” He glared at Rat, obviously recognizing Amanda too.
“She says she’s here for personal reasons.” A smirk played at the corner of Rat’s mouth.
“Really?” Freddy rubbed his jaw and circled her. “That true?” He stopped mere inches in front of her, his nose to hers.
