“We’re a small shop, and we don’t have much turnover in staff.”
Amanda held up the piece of paper and said, “Thank you.”
“Uh-huh.”
Amanda left, hating how she’d entered Bonnie’s life as a gray cloud over her otherwise sunny morning, but she had no choice.
* * *
By the time Amanda was walking to her desk at Central, it was ten o’clock. Trent looked up, appearing haggard.
“You all right there?” she asked him.
“I think so, but I’m still not getting anywhere.”
“Keep looking. I’m going to dig into this.” She held up the page she’d retrieved from Bonnie. “It’s the employee list from the Pansy Shoppe.”
“All right.” Trent returned his gaze to his monitor.
She sat down and got to work, focusing on the male employees. The last one on her list was a former employee named Randy Hart. She pulled his background. No record, but his DMV photo had her blood running cold. “Trent, come here.”
“Ah, yeah.” He sounded like she woke him up.
“Get over here.”
He made quick work of it; he must have sensed the urgency in her voice.
“Look.” She pressed a finger to her screen.
“The Devil.”
“Yep.”
“Okay, but how does a sex-trafficking guy wind up working at a flower shop? And can you imagine this guy behind the counter, or at your door with a delivery? I’m guessing the Pansy Shoppe kept him working in the back.”
“Well, he was a former employee…” She looked at the list, which included hire and leave dates. “Looks like he left nine years ago.”
“Maybe before the black eyes and the sex trafficking.”
“Probably.” And she hoped so. She hated to think that the flower shop was caught up with the sex-trafficking ring somehow.
“I’m still stuck on why our killer pointed us to him in the first place. Does he hold Randy Hart responsible for whatever happened in the past? If so, why not just kill him?”
“He could be biding his— Oh. Maybe he’s just trying to protect his own ass? He could view Hart as a threat.” She met her partner’s gaze, feeling confident in this suggestion.
“We did discuss that the sex-trafficking people would be interested in exacting revenge for the stolen girls.”
“We’ve got to move.” She jumped to her feet and went down the hall, Trent behind her. She stopped at Malone’s office, rapped her knuckles on the door.
“Yeah?”
She entered with Trent and filled him in about Hart.
“Hold up.” Malone sat back in his chair and swiveled slowly. “Do we think he’s working with the killer?”
Amanda glanced at Trent, back at Malone. “We have no reason to
believe that, but our killer wanted us to find him. At least I believe so. Hart should be brought in and questioned as soon as possible. It might shed light on everything.”