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“It didn’t feel like it at the time.” He turned serious and glanced over at her as he slowed at a yellow light. “Seeing that disappointment in their faces destroyed me.”
“Obviously that effect wasn’t long-lasting,” she said.
He smiled and shook his head. “Well, I still can’t drink the stuff without thinking of Jabba the Hutt.”
She narrowed her eyes. “You’re a strange one, Detective Stenson.”
“Thanks. I’ll wear that compliment with pride. It certainly beats normal.”
“What the heck is normal anyway?” she countered.
“Precisely.”
“All righty then, let’s go get a Jabba.”
He started them down the road toward Manassas.
What her new partner didn’t know was their light, jovial conversation had riddled her with pain—not just at the memory of an annual ritual with Kevin—but she was stabbed with the recollection of how close she’d been previously to her five siblings. The six of them had been more than blood; they’d been the best of friends. But now, because of what Palmer had done, the toll he’d taken on her soul, she’d created a chasm between herself and all of them. Each of them had tried reaching out to her several times after she’d worked to withdraw herself, but after she continuously shuffled them to voicemail or sloughed off their invitations, they had given up. She couldn’t blame them, but she also had to stop blaming herself. If only it was as easy as simply deciding how to feel about something and poof that’s how it was.
Fifteen
There was always something about seeing a body on a metal slab that made death seem more final, not that Amanda could define why. Regardless, she had mixed feelings as to how she’d feel upon seeing Palmer’s body draped with a white sheet. It had her breathing shallow and her skin clammy.
“I wasn’t sure if you were going to turn up for the autopsy or not.” Rideout was all chipper for standing in a smock readying to perform what was essentially a dissection of a once-living, breathing, human being.
“Oh…” She put her hand over her back pocket where her phone was. “Sorry, I should have texted to let you know.” She normally did but she was starting to realize nothing was “normal” about this case. It had her feeling more scatterbrained than was her usual since the accident. She kept thinking about Hannigan and Rhodes and how they’d known who she was and the connection between her and Palmer, the victim. She could be on borrowed time with this case.
“Trent, is this your first time attending an autopsy?” Rideout asked.
Trent nodded.
“Really?” Amanda asked, surprised. He was new to being a detective, not to being a cop.
He pressed his lips together and shrugged.
“Huh,” was all she said, but maybe if she were him, she wouldn’t have told her either for fear of being berated or judged. She was surprised, though, that he’d made it to detective without attending one.
“Well, a lot of people can’t stomach this,” Rideout chimed in, “but it’s part of the circle of life—at least for those less fortunate. I won’t get into when an autopsy is necessary and when one isn’t.” He grinned and waved a hand. “Maybe when I have some time though.”
No one could say Rideout was rigid and all business. He obviously loved his job and took pride in sharing his knowledge. “I’m pretty sure Trent knows what necessitates an autopsy…” She glanced at Trent.
“I do,” he said.
“Swell then.” Rideout rubbed his hands together. “Now, I’d already conducted a preliminary investigation of the body before you got here, and I have found some things of interest.” Rideout snapped on gloves and pulled back the sheet to Palmer’s waist, exposing his naked torso.
She was staring into the face that had haunted her nightmares, her waking thoughts, her memories and now it stalked her present reality. In her mind it had always been a face of destruction, of evil. Here in death it was more a reflection of calm, peace, and serenity. Similar to how she’d felt at the motel when she first saw him, Palmer appeared vulnerable, more man than monster, but looks could be deceiving.
“Detective?” Rideout prompted.
“Ah, yes?” Amanda looked up to meet Rideout’s eyes.
“You all right?”
“I’m fine.”
Rideout didn’t say anything for a few beats and Trent was so still beside her she wondered if he was breathing.
“Sorry, go ahead,” she said with a limp smile.
