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“Talk later.”
“Bye.” Trent beat her to hanging up.
Realizing he had the investigation under control set her mind at ease about Rick Jensen. As long as Trent was thorough, she could focus on the cold cases, with specific attention on Casey-Anne Ritter, without too much worry.
She parked in the station’s lot and headed for the door when her phone rang. The caller ID was blocked. Unbelievable. People thought by blocking their number they couldn’t be found, but people with tech skills like Jacob could get past it. She’d be calling Jacob for a favor as soon as she had a chance.
She swiped a finger across the screen to accept the call and said nothing.
“Hello?” It was a woman’s voice.
She breathed easier and said, “Detective Steele.”
“CSI Blair.”
Amanda’s chest tightened.
“I got a couple of DNA hits on the epithelial that I pulled from that silver bracelet.”
Amanda stopped walking and a cool breeze circled her. She pulled her coat tighter around her.
Blair went on. “It ties to Chad Palmer, but also to a murder case in Georgia five and a half years ago. The victim, more specifically—”
“Casey-Anne Ritter.” Goose bumps pricked on Amanda’s arms.
“That’s
right.” A pause, then, “How did you know that?”
Amanda would like to say she was psychic, but sadly that was far from the truth. “You’re probably also about to say her murder was tied to the Jackson Webb murder case in Woodbridge three days later.”
“Yes. But how— When I told you about Webb’s murder, I didn’t know about the link to the previous one in Georgia. But the same gun was used to kill both Webb and Ritter.”
“I’m aware. I’m actually starting to pry into both cold cases.”
“I wish you success.”
If Amanda’s feet hadn’t been grounded firmly on the pavement, she might topple over. This cordial side of Blair wasn’t one she was used to seeing, but Amanda suspected the reason for that, and it didn’t mean Blair suddenly cared for Amanda. “You heard what was in the bracelet?”
“Yeah, like I said, I wish you success—both with solving the murder cases and rounding up those poor girls.”
“Thank you. But just one question, how much would you say a bracelet like that is worth?”
A few seconds then, “A few hundred, nothing too substantial.”
Just enough to get a bus ticket out of town. So there had to be other items Casey-Anne had pawned or another way she’d earned money between Dumfries and showing up at the building manager’s door. “That’s what I would have guessed. Thanks.”
“Uh-huh.” With that, Blair hung up.
“All righty then.” Amanda smiled, looking at her phone in her hand. What CSI Blair might not have known was that she’d just confirmed for Amanda Casey-Anne’s link to Dumfries and the pawnshop. For her DNA to be on the bracelet—a miracle after all this time, though it had spent a bulk of the last several years untouched in lockup—she had to have had it around her wrist at one time.
Thirty-Seven
Malone was walking toward Amanda as she was headed to her cubicle. He had an enormous grin on his face. “What’s up with you?” She raised her brows and proceeded to put her jacket on the back of her chair and sit down.
“I’m just happy for you.”
“Happy for me?” She was obviously missing something.
