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“Maybe a little, but it’s only because she pisses me off. Look, sorry if I was a real prick the other night. It’s hard to serve divorce papers to someone you can’t find. I hired a private investigator and he’d just followed what turned out to be yet another dead end. But maybe you could help me with that. You seem to have a way of finding people, even if they don’t want to be found.” One corner of his mouth lifted in the beginnings of an arrogant smirk. “So what do you say to dinner?”
She crossed her arms and jutted out her chin. Her heart was racing at the fact she was considering his proposal. “You give my alibi to my sergeant and then we’ll talk.”
“Nope.”
“What do you mean—”
“You tell me right now that you’ll go out to dinner with me and then I’ll talk with your sergeant.”
She felt like she’d just jumped into a swirling whirlpool and was being sucked down to her ultimate demise. “Fine. One dinner.”
“All I’m asking for. We can take it from there.”
“Take it from—take it from—” she stuttered.
“Ah, you’re cute.”
He brushed the back of his hand to her right cheek and walked around her to his truck. He opened the door and turned around, stepped back to her.
“I will need you to shake on this arrangement of ours though. Figure you’re a detective and should keep your word, but—” He held out his hand and she took it. “All right. Have a good one. Talk soon.”
She watched him drive out of the lot. Her legs felt stuck to the gravel. What the hell had just happened, and what had she gotten herself into? Her cheeks were warm, and she palmed them, hating herself for the way her body responded to him. The last ti
me she’d felt anything close to this way, it had been Kevin heating her core. Her chest tugged. She’d felt like she was betraying him by sleeping with other men; how could she ever forgive herself if she started to move on?
Her hands clenched into fists and she resolved she would never let that happen. It was just one lousy dinner, and nothing had even been scheduled. But it was the damn handshake and her word again. She jammed the heel of her right boot into the ground.
Her phone rang, the caller ID blocked. She braced herself and answered firmly, “Detective Steele.”
“You’d be wise to back off.” The caller was using a voice modulator, so it was hard to distinguish whether it was a man or woman.
“Who the hell is—”
Click.
She held out her phone and stared at it, confused. Rick Jensen would have no reason to call and threaten her like that, but it left a chilling question. Who did?
She burrowed into her coat, feeling like eyes were crawling over her skin. Could it be someone associated with the data chip and the sex trafficking? If so, they were going to find out that she didn’t scare easily. Rather, they should be afraid because she was going to do everything in her power to save those girls and bring the ring and all those associated with it down.
Thirty-Six
Amanda called Malone to let him know that she had her alibi and gave him Logan’s number.
“I’ll call him,” Malone said.
“So can I work the cold cases?”
“I still need to call… Oh, fine, you can work—”
“Thank you! The girls will thank you too.”
“Just stop everything if any evidence gets you close to Palmer’s murderer, run it by me, and I’ll let you know whether to back off or proceed.”
“Yes, of course.” She hung up and connected her phone to the car’s Bluetooth system and called Trent. His line was ringing over the speakers as she pulled out of the construction lot.
“Detective Stenson,” he answered.
“Trent, how did you make out with Wheable, Freddy, and Courtney about the bracelet?” She should feel bad that she’d just hung up with Malone and was already prying into a case she was banned from, but there was still the matter of Rick’s threat hanging overhead. Guilt over lying to Malone would be nothing compared to letting anything happen to her parents.
