Stolen Daughters

by Carolyn Arnold

  Amanda took out her notebook and confirmed the address was the same as the one Cindy’s boyfriend had given her at the first fire. She got up from her chair and said, “Let’s go.”

  “Where?”

  “To visit Cindy Page, assuming we have her right address. I’d like to know why she was at all three crime scenes, and if she knows who he is.” She pressed a fingertip to the man’s face and felt a tug of recognition, but she couldn’t really place from where. Maybe she had seen him in the crowds, but he hadn’t really stood out to her. Though he did look a lot like that actor Tom Cruise.

  Forty-Four

  Two in the morning was an advantageous time to show up at someone’s door. It would probably throw Cindy Page and her boyfriend off guard and give Amanda and Trent the advantage.

  Amanda knocked hard with one hand and rang the doorbell with the other. And she kept pounding until she felt a vibration reach the porch floorboards. Someone was coming. The outside light flicked on, and the door whooshed open.

  The guy with the teal hair—Simon West—was standing there with a gun pointed at them.

  Amanda and Trent drew their weapons.

  “Prince William County PD. Put your gun down and your hands up,” she barked.

  “Hey, I didn’t know who I’d be opening the door to at this hour.” The guy held up his free hand and put his gun on the floor.

  Trent collected it and proceeded to clear the magazine and chamber.

  “We’re not off to a very good start here, Simon,” she said.

  “What are you doing here?”

  “Simon?” It was a female’s voice, leery, small. She came up behind Simon. It was Cindy.

  “You may not remember me, but I spoke to you on Thursday across from the house fire at five thirty-two Bill Drive. I’m Detective Steele, and this is Detective Stenson.” She dropped their first names to stress this was anything but a social visit—as if the hour alone didn’t say that much. “We need to ask you some questions.” She gestured toward the inside of the house, implying that she was looking for the invitation to enter.

  The couple backed into the house, allowing Amanda and Trent room to get in.

  Trent closed the door behind them once they were all standing in the entry.

  “Do you have someplace we could sit?” Amanda had intended to approach this visit calmly and rationally, but starting off with a gun in her face had her very guarded and vigilant.

  Cindy covered a yawn with her hand while Simon’s body sagged, and he led them down a short hall to a living room. The place could have used a good tidying. Dirty plates and a couple of empty beer bottles sat on a coffee table.

  Simon dropped onto the couch, Cindy next to him, their hips touching.

  Both of them looked like death warmed over, and Amanda would guess that she and Trent had woken them up. There were a few other chairs in the room. Trent sat in one, but Amanda remained standing.

  “Cindy, why were you at the scene of the fire on Bill Drive the other day?” Amanda started.

  “We told you,” Simon jumped in. “We just heard the fire trucks and were curious.”

  Amanda gave him a corrective glare and said firmly, “I asked Cindy.”

  “What he said.”

  “Okay.” Amanda had the photo of Cindy in the crowd across from Fox’s house ready to pull up on her cell phone, and she did so now. “And we see that you were here the next day.”

  Cindy’s cheeks flushed. “So?”

  “Do you know where this picture was taken?” Amanda asked.

  Cindy wet her lips and stared across the room for several seconds but said nothing. Then, “Also on Bill Drive.”

  “That’s right. What were you doing there?”

  “Just watching everything going on. That’s all.”

  Amanda would play diplomat to start. “Did you know Shannon Fox?”

  She shook her head and blinked slowly.

  “What about him?” Amanda pointed to their mystery man’s face.

  Cindy looked closely at the picture. “He looks familiar. But I don’t know him. I probably just saw him when I was there that day.”

  Amanda had a feeling that might have been the case but had to ask and see her reaction. It would seem she was telling the truth—she didn’t know the guy. She pulled up the computer-rendered photo of Ashley Lynch and showed it to Cindy. Before she could ask, Cindy started trembling, and her chin quivered. Tears fell down her cheeks, and she gripped the fabric of her shirt over her heart.

  Amanda had hit a bullseye. “You knew her.”

  Cindy sniffled. “She was… my best friend.”

  Amanda felt tingles run over her shoulders and down her arms. She hadn’t expected that response, and it had her looking at Cindy in a different light. When she’d first met Cindy on Bill Drive, she pegged her in her twenties, but she had been wearing sunglasses. Now that Amanda was able to peer right into the girl’s eyes, she saw she was much younger. Also, the words best friend kept circling in Amanda’s mind, and she recalled the card at the memorial signed off “Always” followed by C and a doodle. “Did you leave a card at the memorial on Bill Drive with a dragonfly on the front?”

  Cindy licked her lips, bit down on her bottom one, and nodded.

  “And you love dragonflies?” The Fosters said their daughter did.

  “Yeah. So?”

  “Are you… Crystal Foster?” Amanda had a hard time getting the words past the lump in her throat.

  Cindy—Crystal?—burrowed against Simon’s side. She clung to him like she depended on him to protect and save her. Amanda looked with closer scrutiny at Simon. He had to be several years older.

  Amanda scanned Crystal for any signs of branding, and any other red flags she knew about sex trafficking. Normally the girls were spoken for and never let out of their pimp’s sight. Simon tended to do the former, but maybe it was just his personality or desire to shelter her. She had left Simon’s side without supervision to get coffee the other day. It wouldn’t seem Simon was controlling her in the obvious sense, and he gave Amanda the impression that he really cared about the girl. But did he know that she was only sixteen? The mother in Amanda wanted to react, slap cuffs on him, and put him in jail without hesitation. The cop in her cautioned that if she wanted Crystal, a.k.a. Cindy, to talk, she had to remain cool.

  “Are you Crystal Foster?” Amanda repeated.

  The girl’s eyes connected with Amanda’s, and eventually, she sluggishly nodded. “But not in a very long time.”

  “And the girl in the picture here… Who was she?” Amanda wanted further confirmation.

  “Ashley Lynch.” Crystal bit her bottom lip.

  Amanda left the screen in Crystal’s face. “Do you know who killed her?”

  Crystal kept her eyes on the image.

  “Your best friend, Ashley Lynch, was murdered.” Putting it out there so bluntly to a young woman pierced Amanda’s heart, but this girl needed to know there were consequences to striving for so-called freedom. Amanda also wasn’t too certain of her innocence just yet. She let the image stay in front of Crystal for several seconds before she pocketed her phone and sat in a chair next to Trent’s and across from the couch.

  Crystal was sobbing, and Simon passed her a tissue. Considering their illegal union, she didn’t give Amanda any obvious signs that she was there against her will. Then again, that was the power of a talented abuser: mind control. The restraints were there but not visible. Even if they considered themselves in love, it still came down to the fact that Simon was much older, and as such, could manipulate her.

  “We need you to start talking to us, Crystal,” Amanda said. “Did you know Ashley was inside that house?”

  Crystal rubbed her arms. “I didn’t know, but—” She stopped talking and let a fresh batch of tears fall in silence. She dabbed them with the tissue and continued. “I ran into Ash a couple of weeks ago at a vintage clothing store. I hadn’t seen her in years.” Pain riddled the young woman’s expressio
n, wrenching Amanda’s heart.

  “You ran away together, didn’t you?” Not so much a question but a way to keep her talking.

  “We did.” She rubbed a cheek to a shoulder. “I left mostly for her. She met some guy online and was obsessed with him.

  “Can you tell us about him?” Amanda asked. “Did you ever meet him?”

  “No.” Crystal played with the hem of her pajama top, seeming to search her mind for the words to express herself. “Ash was a little nervous. She’d only met him online, but he wanted to hook up in person. He told her to go the food court in City Center Mall. She asked that I go along with her. The guy wasn’t there, but some woman was. She said that Riley sent her—that was Ash’s crush—and he wanted her to go to Corner Pocket Billiards here in town.” Crystal shivered, and Simon hugged her tighter.

  “What happened then?” Amanda was curious how it had all unfolded.

  “The woman gave us some cash—said it was a gift from Riley—and bought us bus tickets to Dumfries. I wanted to turn around and go home, but Ash said we’d come that far and it wasn’t fair to bail on Riley now. She told me he must have a good reason for changing locations. That woman tagged along with us.”

  It was likely the woman that the kid from the burger place had described to Detective Robbins, but maybe Crystal could give her more. “Did she tell you her name?”

  “Nah. Just that she was a friend of Riley’s.”

  “What did she look like?”

  “She was pretty. Blond, but had a large tattoo up the side of her neck.” Crystal ran her hand over the left side of hers. “There was something really, ah…” A shudder tore through her. “She sort of looked like she could be someone’s aunt or mother, all kind and pleasant to your face, but there was something so fake about her—and very dark. I still have nightmares about her.”

  “What happened when you got to Dumfries?”

  Crystal took Simon’s hand and squeezed it. “I had a really bad feeling, and I… I left Ash…” She let go of Simon and started sobbing. She sniffled and said, “That lady turned her over to some very nasty men. Ash confirmed I’d been right to leave. It doesn’t mean I forgive myself for abandoning her.”

  Amanda wanted to reach out and offer Crystal comfort, but it wasn’t her place. It was apparent that Crystal was well aware of Ashley’s fate. Not surprising, but something else was. “How did you get away?”

  “I told that woman I needed to use the restroom and snuck out a window in the stall.”

  Smart girl. Did Crystal have any idea how lucky she’d been? Or was she? Amanda glanced at Simon, wanting to broach the topic of their relationship, but there was still more they needed to know.

  “Did Ashley sometimes sleep in the house that was set on fire?” Trent slipped in, beating Amanda to the question.

  Crystal looked at him. “I don’t know if she slept there. She sometimes escaped there for short pockets of time and got back before they noticed her missing. I don’t know how she got out of where they were holding her, and don’t ask me where it was. I went to the house on Bill Drive with her once or twice and hung out.”

  “But you were just reunited a couple of weeks ago?” Amanda asked. It was starting to sound as if they’d spent more time together than that.

  “Uh-huh, but we chatted more than the one time.” Crystal sniffled.

  “And how did you arrange to meet up?”

  Crystal looked at Amanda as if she were being interrogated. “When we bumped into each other, I gave Ash my address. She’d pop by here. Then we’d do whatever…”

  Amanda nodded. “How much do you know about the place on Bill Drive, Crystal?”

  “Please stop calling me Crystal. That life was so long ago.” Her voice went shrill, and she returned to picking at the hem of her pajama top.

  “Okay… Cindy.”

  A few seconds ticked off.

  “She just said she had some friends who squatted there. She talked of running away with them.” Crystal licked her lips. “But she was so afraid her pimp would catch up with her.”

  Amanda wanted more specifics about their reunion. “What was the name of the vintage clothing store where you ran into Ashley?”

  “Second Treasures.”

  Amanda was familiar with the store. It was in Dumfries. “That must have been emotional.”

  “There were lots of tears.” As if on cue, more fell. “She felt so trapped, ya know? She wanted out but couldn’t see a way. When we were at the store, there was this guy standing in the corner watching us, mainly Ash. He came over and broke us up and grabbed her arm. I’ve never seen such fear in a person’s eyes in my life. She was terrified, but she pressed on this smile, ya know, for me, to make it look like everything was okay, but I knew it wasn’t.”

  Maybe they’d concluded too soon that the sex ring wasn’t behind Ashley Lynch’s murder—but where was the motive? And how did Fox and the two recent victims fit in? Either way, there was a question Amanda needed to ask. “Can you remember what the man from Second Treasures looked like?”

  “He had the face of the devil. The whites of his eyes were black.”

  “You’re sure?” Amanda asked.

  “I’ll never forget his face. He was a monster, and he stank of cigarettes and had deep pockmarks in his neck.”

  “What about age, hair color, build?”

  “I dunno… Average and blond.”

  Not the person described by eyewitnesses and not the mystery man in their photos. “I can understand why you were outside the house where you and Ashley spent some time, but what brought you to watch the scene unfold down the street where that woman was murdered?”

  “As I said, curiosity.” Crystal’s voice trembled.

  Amanda nodded. She’d been curious if Crystal would say something different when asked again. “And to the fire that happened on Clear Mountain Circle?”

  “Curiosity.”

  “Again. Okay. How did you even know about it?”

  Crystal glanced at Simon, then said, “We have a police radio scanner.”

  Those things should be banned. Amanda rested her gaze on Crystal’s face again. So young to have been through so much. Her mind turned back to Ashley, and she asked Crystal, “Did you give Ashley your dragonfly pin?”

  “How do you know about… You found that?” Her voice was small, more like a child’s than ever. “Was it on her?”

  “It was,” Amanda confirmed gently.

  “Can I get it back?”

  “Maybe after the investigation is over.”

  “Please. I know it’s worth a lot. I told her to pawn it or something, run far away.”

  She didn’t want to lay any guilt or blame on Crystal, but she had other questions that needed answers. “Why didn’t you do that a long time ago, and why not go home?”

  “I thought of it, but that’s when I met Simon and—” she touched his arm “—he made me feel safe and loved, more than my parents ever did.”

  “You’ve been together a long time?” Trent asked.

  “For almost three years.”

  So he was the reason she didn’t go home. “Your parents love you. They want you to go home. And, Simon, you should have encouraged her to.”

  “That was no home!” Crystal yelled. “My parents didn’t even raise me—or know me. They had hired help for that. Mom and Dad loved their business far more than me.”

  There was still obvious hatred and hurt charged around the subject. Amanda raised her hand as a truce—for now. “Why didn’t you and Ashley go to the police about her situation? She was able to sneak away for ‘pockets at a time,’ as you said.”

  “Ash was convinced they’d kill us both. And now—” Crystal sniffled and pinched the tip of her nose. “They killed her.” She sobbed, and Simon hugged her tighter.

  “If you thought that, why not come forward?” Amanda asked.

  “You’re kidding, right?” Crystal’s brows knotted. “I was terrified for my life, for Simon’s. I’m als
o terrified that you’re going to rip us apart.”

  Amanda looked at Simon, and he stiffened.

  “No!” Crystal cried out.

  “She’s sixteen years old, Simon.” Amanda attempted to appeal to his maturity. “You are how old?”

  “Twenty-four.”

  “You knew that she was, and still is, a minor,” Amanda concluded.

  He looked at Crystal and took her hand. He kissed the back of it.

  “Time to go.” Amanda gestured for Simon to get to his feet and cuffed him. “You’re under arrest for kidnapping and multiple counts of statutory rape.”

  “No!” Crystal shouted again.

  Amanda proceeded to read off his Miranda rights as Crystal went berserk, screaming and wailing.

  The night had certainly taken a different turn than Amanda had planned, but that was life. Always tossing curveballs when you least expected.

  Forty-Five

  Amanda pried her eyes open, and the clock on her nightstand told her it was just a few minutes after eight. It had been five in the morning when she’d finally arrived home after taking Crystal back to her parents in Washington. Amanda had even hung around a little for the reunion, and that had sapped more life from her. Crystal’s mother, Leila, had collapsed into herself as she held her daughter tight. Henry had latched onto his wife and daughter and was even more outwardly emotional than Leila. He sobbed loudly, letting the tears stream down his face.

  Amanda had made sure Simon West was booked for kidnapping and multiple counts of statutory rape. The cherry on top? Possession of an unregistered firearm, as it turned out.

  All that in a day’s work—technically today’s work—from two thirty to five this morning.

  She just wanted to burrow her head deeper into her pillow and pull the covers over her face… shut her eyes. But she had a killer to stop. She got out of bed, went through her morning routine, and was about to leave when there was a knock on her door.