Stolen Daughters

by Carolyn Arnold

  “How old would you say they were?” Amanda twisted her teacup but didn’t lift it for a drink.

  “Mid-teens, I would guess, but I could be wrong. It’s so hard to tell people’s ages these days. Or it’s just me.”

  “And you never saw any of these people, or the van in this area before?” She thought she’d ask again.

  Janet shook her head. “Never. And when I heard about the two girls on the news, I got this horrible feeling it might have been them. Do you think it was?”

  “We’re here because of what you saw, but it’s too soon to say.” Amanda was taking the neutral route, but her intuition was screaming, Hell, yes, it was them! “Why didn’t you call the police at the time?”

  “By the time I thought to, well, it was too late. They were gone. And I didn’t feel like getting into it with the cops that late at night. I just imagined them grilling me for hours. But if they were the girls on the news, I may never forgive myself.”

  Amanda tapped the back of Janet’s hand. “None of us can see the future, Ms. Mills, but thank you for calling the tip line.”

  Janet squeezed her eyes shut for a moment and dipped her head. “I hope I’ve been of help.”

  “More than you know. Here—” Amanda pulled her card and handed it to Janet “—call me if you remember anything else.”

  “I will.”

  Amanda and Trent saw themselves out. She stopped at the driver’s-side door, leaning against it and crossing her arms. He stood in front of her, hands on hips.

  “I saw a van like that a block away from the second fire,” he said. “The Pansy Shoppe.”

  “Yep. Me too.”

  “You think someone from there is our killer?”

  “We can’t dismiss the possibility, though it doesn’t make much sense he’d want to draw attention to himself in such a blatant manner. It’s a lead we need to follow, but it seems too easy.”

  “I get that. Doesn’t make much sense either why our killer would murder a woman to silence her, then drive around in a van with lettering on the side.”

  “Exactly. And to park lengthwise… it was like he wanted someone to see the lettering on the van. I’m going to get officers over to the Pansy Shoppe to make the inquiries. We’ll also need to check if the interviews are in yet from canvassing officers in the neighborhood of the second fire. Maybe someone mentioned the van or, even better, noticed the license plate.”

  “Good idea.”

  She pulled her phone out and made a call to Malone. He sounded cool again. She was driving herself crazy trying to figure out if it had to do with her or just the case. She put some distance between herself and Trent and turned her back on him. “Are you upset with me for some reason?”

  There was silence, but the line felt electrically charged.

  “You are,” she concluded.

  “Don’t want to talk about it now, but we will. Why did you call?”

  She filled him in on their conversation with Janet Mills, ending with the Pansy Shoppe and the van. “Could you have officers ask if they have a white GMC van in their fleet. Then, if they do, ask if it had any business being near Clear Mountain Circle Sunday morning, or near Ms. Mills’s home Saturday night.”

  “Sure.”

  “Oh, and one other thing, could you get officers reviewing the interviews from the residents on Clear Mountain Circle? Trent and I saw the van a couple of blocks over from eight sixteen. I’d like to know if anyone commented on seeing a white van in the area, maybe parked or lingering nearby. Someone might have even seen a license plate.”

  “Consider that done too.”

  “Thanks.”

  Malone hung up, and Amanda turned to Trent.

  “Malone’s getting officers on everything we just talked about, including the interviews. That frees us up to take a look around. We’ll start there.” She pointed to the insurance company and headed over. It only took a few minutes to dash the hope that a surveillance camera could have captured their killer. She stood back, her hands on her hips, and looked around. “All right, time for a walk. If we’re lucky we’ll figure out where the man and the girls came from.” She retraced the direction from which Janet said the trio had originated. Just more houses, much like Janet’s, for a few blocks.

  She was about to say something to Trent when she saw through the backyard of a corner lot on her right. It was banked by a chain-link fence, and on the other side was a two-story building. The backside of a motel, if Amanda remembered correctly. She could vaguely recall the roadside sign but couldn’t pin down the name.

  Working on the assumption that the two new victims had also been caught up in sex trafficking, a motel could make sense. The girls could have been delivered to the motel, and then the killer had taken them from there.

  “Come with me.” She picked up her speed and ducked up the side street toward the motel. With each step, she felt like they were getting that much closer to their killer.

  Forty-Seven

  Amanda could have been seeing things where there was nothing to see, a link, a connection, and tugging at loose threads with no consequence. But she had to follow her gut. Her father had taught her that.

  Trent was tagging along behind her. Her focus was on the motel. It looked like every second room had a rear exit. She walked to the front of the place and saw the sign.

  Sunny Motel. All in its bright-yellow glory, but it brought the past hurtling back. Sunny Motel had been one of the first dive motels where she’d had a one-night stand.

  She went into the lobby and found a forty-something man sitting with his legs crossed and reading a newspaper behind a counter. He set it down, uncrossed his legs, and leaned forward. “Hourly or for the night?” He drew his half-mast, lazy eyes from Amanda over to Trent.

  Trent held up his badge, beating her to doing the same thing by a few seconds. “Prince William County PD, Homicide,” he said.

  “Detectives Steele and Stenson,” Amanda added. “We have some questions about a guest who might have rented a room Saturday night.”

  “I can’t answer those type of questions without a warrant.” He picked up his paper.

  “Maybe you could tell us if you saw this man before.” She brought up the picture of their mystery man on her phone and held it toward him. She felt fine about showing this to the clerk, as she was just making a simple inquiry at this point.

  Time ticked off. Slowly, the paper was lowered again. He rolled closer to the counter and squinted at the screen. “Tom Cruise?” Only one of his eyebrows arched up.

  “Someone who looks like him.”

  “Tom Cruise’s doppelgänger is wanted by the police?” His eyes sparkled, and he chuckled. “Now I’ve heard everything.”

  She shrugged. “You could just say he’s a person of interest. What’s your name?”

  “Roy Marble, but you can call me Roy.”

  “Okay, Roy, have you seen this guy?” She looked at her phone to draw his attention back to the photo.

  He rubbed his jaw. “I think I need a warrant.”

  She bobbed her head. “Sure, I can understand if you’d prefer one, but for me to get that approved, I need a little help from you.” She held her fingers to within a half inch of touching.

  “Sounds like your problem,” he muttered, then volunteered, “My aunt Judy was murdered. You said you were with Homicide?” He looked at Trent to answer.

  “Uh-huh,” he confirmed.

  “Sorry about your aunt,” Amanda offered sincerely, but she also saw a way to use this knowledge to their advantage.

  He waved a hand of dismissal. “It was years ago now, but it really tore up my mom. It was her sister.”

  “A horrible thing to be sure,” she said and put her phone away. “Murder of a loved one really cuts deep. My partner and I are just trying to bring some solace and closure to the friends and family of two recent victims.”

  “Huh. I see what you’re trying to do here. You’re empathizing with me, so I feel sorry for you and o
pen my mouth.”

  Actually, you brought up your aunt…

  “What’s the worst that can happen?” That came from Trent, and it had her looking at him. He met her gaze, and his eyes lit up like he was pleased with himself.

  “I could lose my job, pal,” Roy said.

  “Is it really that great of a job?” Trent made a show of gesturing around the ancient lobby and the pine—so much pine.

  “That’s a low blow.”

  “I mean, in light of what your help could do for bringing closure to the victims’ loved ones.” Trent applied one more twist of Roy’s arm.

  “Very well,” Roy mumbled. “Yeah, I saw your Tom Cruise.”

  A buzz jolted through Amanda’s body. He was no longer just a nameless face in a photo; he was most likely their killer. She wanted to pepper Roy with questions but feared shutting him down. She let seconds pass, giving Roy the opportunity to speak first, to give him a sense of control. It worked, because Roy eventually went on.

  “He rented two rooms—seven and eight—for the night. He insisted, and I mean really insisted, that he have those specific rooms.”

  “Did he say why?” Amanda asked.

  “Said they were his lucky numbers. Whatever. Not that I really gave a crap what rooms he had as long as they were vacant.”

  “How did he pay?” she inquired.

  “Cash. Pretty much everyone pays cash here.”

  She nodded. “Did he give you any ID?”

  “Defeats the purpose of paying cash, don’t it?” He squared his shoulders, a bit on the defensive.

  She could make an issue out of this, but Roy would probably show them the door. That would set the investigation back. “Anyone else rent those rooms since him?”

  “Nope.”

  “What about security surveillance?” she began. “Any cameras around here?”

  “We got ’em, but I’m not giving you the footage without a warrant. The boss would have my ass.”

  She nodded. “We’ll get a warrant. Right now, though, we’d like to see rooms seven and eight.”

  “Sure. The hourly rate is affordable. See the sign.” He pointed to a sheet pressed into a laminate holder on the counter.

  “We won’t touch a thing; you’ll never know we were there.” Amanda stopped talking as she observed his body language was still rigid. “You can come with us.”

  Roy huffed. “Fine. But don’t make me regret this. I’ve gotten along fine all these years minding my own damn business, then the likes of you come around…” He was still grumbling while he grabbed the keys for both rooms from a pegboard. “Let’s go.” He held the lobby door open for them.

  They followed him to room seven, and he unlocked the door. Inside, the place was furnished with dated furniture and had a worn, burnt-orange carpet. Just as she remembered it from years ago. There was a strange odor to the air that Amanda couldn’t quite place and wasn’t sure if it was must, mildew, human, rodent—or a combination.

  “This is it,” Roy announced, opening his arms. “Quite the Ritz.” He smirked at Trent and went to a door in the middle of the room and unlocked it. “Voila! There you have it—adjoining rooms.”

  Amanda and Trent walked into the room and through the door to the next. Room eight was a mirror of seven, but it had a rear exit. She put on a pair of gloves, unlatched the bolt, and ducked her head outside.

  “Hey, you said you wouldn’t touch anything.”

  She held up her gloved hands.

  “Ah, so you go all CSI on me, and I’m supposed to be good with it?”

  “You asked for that warrant, Roy, and I’m going to oblige. But there’s no harm in us having a quick look now. Was the man alone, or did he have company?”

  Roy’s face became shadows. “I really shouldn’t say anymore.” He fidgeted with the keys in his hands.

  “And why’s that?” she asked.

  Roy rubbed his jaw, slid it left and right, and scanned the room. “Two girls were dropped off and joined him.”

  Amanda’s stomach tossed. Sometimes she hated it when her instincts turned out to be right. Those young women had been sex-trafficking victims.

  Forty-Eight

  Amanda could only imagine how terrified those girls must have been every time they were delivered to a john. “Did you see who dropped them off?”

  “I didn’t exactly get his name.”

  “No need for sarcasm, Roy. And not really an answer to my question.”

  He met her gaze but was the first to break eye contact. “I don’t think I’m comfortable saying much more.”

  “You know what’s going on at the motel, then?” Amanda angled her head. “I’m going to guess it’s a regular thing by the way you’re acting. That would mean that you’re facilitating sex crimes.”

  “I didn’t do anything to those girls.”

  “Indirectly you did. Silence is what these lowlifes prey on. By not doing anything to help, you are a part of the problem.” Amanda paced a few steps. “I can have this entire place put under surveillance, and then you know what will happen?” She would be anyway, but he didn’t need to know that.

  “What?”

  She stopped moving. “You’ll be looking for a new job, possibly living out your life behind bars.”

  “I didn’t do anything, and if I start talking, I’m good as dead.”

  “Just continue cooperating with us, and I can get you protection if it comes to that.”

  Roy narrowed his eyes and said, “I don’t like being strong-armed.”

  “Look, it’s up to you how it goes from here,” she said. “Keep talking to us, and you’re aiding the police. We’re on your side. Clam up and—”

  “Fine,” he spat. “I’ll talk, but I might take you up on that protection.”

  “Okay. Why don’t we start from the top?” She figured if they backtracked and focused on the mystery man’s movements first, by the time they reached the point when the girls showed up, he’d be a little more relaxed.

  “The guy rented the rooms.”

  “Uh-huh, and what was he driving?” she asked.

  “He arrived on foot.”

  Not surprising. He probably left his van in the insurance company’s parking lot and walked over. “Okay, keep going.”

  “He got the rooms, went into them, then about an hour after, these two girls were dropped off.”

  “What time was this?”

  “Say, ten thirty.”

  She nodded. That would have given the killer time to drug the girls and wait for it to set in before escorting them to the van around eleven thirty, when Janet had spotted them. He could have had the girls long gone before their handler even clued in. “What did the girls look like?”

  “I dunno. Young, I guess. Pretty, blond. They wore sexy clothing.”

  “Did you happen to notice if they had any tattoos?” she asked.

  “Nope. Didn’t notice.”

  “Okay, they were dropped off. Then what?”

  “The girls knocked on his door, and he let them in.”

  “Which door did they go to?” she asked.

  “Seven.”

  That was the one without the back door… So the killer had the girls delivered to room seven, and then unbeknownst to their handler, the girls were likely shuffled into room eight and taken out the back door. “Did the person who brought them leave or…?”

  Roy licked his lips and pushed out, “He stayed out front in the car he’d brought them in.”

  Now that Roy was opening up, Amanda slipped in her earlier question. “Did you get a good look at him?”

  He met her gaze. “He had the driver’s window down, and he was smoking. Oh, and he was playing country music. Just loud enough to sort of pick up, but not booming or anything. But gah, I hate the stuff.”

  “Did he ever get out of the car?” Amanda was pressuring now, but she felt the effort would pay off. After all, Roy didn’t bring up protection because he didn’t get a good look at the girls’ handler. />
  Roy’s eyes went dark, and he stared across the room. “Yeah.”

  She might need to wait a little yet before getting some description on the guy. “And what did he do?”

  “He banged on the door of room seven.”

  “What time was this?” Trent asked.

  “About one in the morning. When no one answered, the guy stomped into the office and demanded I give him a key to the room.” He paused there, and his body was visibly trembling.

  “You’re doing good.” Amanda was trying to keep calm herself. Roy would have gotten a real good look at the guy. “Keep going,” she encouraged.

  “I told him I couldn’t give him a key.”

  Trent winced. “And how did that go over?”

  “He kicked down the room’s door.” Roy hitched a thumb over his shoulder. “We got it fixed up yesterday.”

  “Guessing you didn’t call the police about any of this,” she said.

  “Nope. I called Kirk, that’s the owner, and he said to just let it be.”

  That was interesting… But even if police had been called to the motel for property damage, the handler would have been long gone by the time they’d arrived. But there was one possible way to track him down. “Did you get a plate on this guy’s vehicle?”

  There was a pregnant pause, then, “Yeah, I have it.” It felt like Roy had more to say, but he didn’t.

  “We’ll get that from you in a minute,” she said. “Now can you tell us what he looked like?”

  “Rather thin, dark hair, sunken cheekbones, but it was his eyes that were the real creep show.”

  Amanda angled her head. “What about them?”

  “The whites… They were black.”

  The skin tightened on the back of her neck. She briefly glanced at Trent, whose eyebrows were raised. He was thinking the same thing. Was this the same man from Second Treasures who had been tailing Ashley Lynch? It had to be, because what were the chances that someone else in the area had these eyes? “You’re sure they were black?”

  “Definitely. Guy looked like quite the freak.”