“That’s, as they say in basketball, a slam dunk. Great job. Both of you.” Graves greeted them in the observation room with praise and a smile.
Amanda returned the expression and thanked the sergeant. It was very rare when cases were closed in under forty-eight hours, and this was one for the record books. There was a deep-rooted satisfaction that came with locking up Roy Archer, making him pay for what he had done. Darla and Irvin Meyer would have closure, and Jill and Charlotte would get justice. She tamped down the gnawing feeling in her gut that second-guessed the evidence. But it was probably because the case was closed quick, as if something had to be off due to that alone.
“Well, I won’t hold you up. You both have a lot of work ahead of you.” Graves left the room.
“That guy wasn’t going to kill himself,” Trent said. “He loves himself too much.”
“I think you should let it go.”
Trent’s face shadowed. “He held a gun on me.”
“So at one point, you were facing down his barrel?” The fact Trent hadn’t said as much in so many words made her antsy. Well, that, and Roy’s claimed intention.
“Never mind.”
“And after he was unarmed, you still felt threatened and justified in hitting him?”
“The guy’s a douche.”
“No question, and he’s going to pay for killing his family. But drop the charges of assault and attempted murder against him. Please, Trent, trust me. It won’t turn out well for you.”
“Basically, you’re saying you don’t have my back.”
“I can’t back you up. That’s why I’m telling you to leave it alone.” She’d already told him she saw the gun out of reach and wasn’t going to say it again.
“Fine, I’ll drop the charges. But he doesn’t deserve the badge.”
“He’s going to prison, so consider it gone.”
“Cause for celebration.”
There was—the killer was caught, case closed. Despite that, she found it impossible to conjure a smile.
Trent nudged her elbow. “Celebration? Just accept that sometimes justice is served with a swift hand.”
She considered his words, pushed aside her niggling—not entirely sure of its source—and nodded. “You’re right. We should celebrate. But first, we’ll get a start on the paperwork. Then it’s beers on me.”
“I’m with you until the beers. I sort of have plans.”
“How does someone ‘sort of have plans’? Not that I want to pry.” She held up her hands and plastered on a smile. He probably had a date. “It’s all good.”
He met her gaze, and a few awkward seconds passed. All because of that kiss there were times, like now, she wanted to sink into the earth. It had been months ago, so why couldn’t she let it go?
She dipped her head and parked at her desk for the next several hours. At five, she clocked out, ready to head home, one of the rare nights she’d be on time for Libby and Zoe. She flicked her monitor off and got up.
Sergeant Graves was in the doorway of Amanda’s cubicle, her expression grim and foreboding.
Amanda lowered back into her chair, and that knot in the pit of her stomach grew. “What is it?”
“Put a hold on charging Roy Archer.”
Trent popped up from his chair. “Why?” he dragged out.
“A hiker and his dog just found another grave in Prince Park.”
“Don’t tell me…” She closed her eyes briefly and let out a deep breath. “A mother and daughter?”
“Too soon to know, but at least one parameter fits with the Archer case. The grave’s location. This time a woman’s left hand was sticking out of the ground.”
“Let’s go.” Amanda stood and started toward the parking lot. She’d call Libby on the way and see if she’d stay at the house with Zoe. Amanda would be home late tonight—if at all.