Stolen Daughters (Detective Amanda Steele)

Prologue

Dumfries, Virginia

Thursday, April 1st, 5:25 AM

Her lifeless eyes stared up at him. All was quiet. The struggle gone.

His rage had subsided, replaced by tranquility and bliss. He had risen above his past and shown mercy when the world had shown none to him.

Inspired, he tapped a kiss to his fingers and pressed them to her forehead. “Rest in peace.”

He closed her eyelids and got to his feet.

His gaze still upon her, he felt himself to be the very embodiment of love and forgiveness. He was… The Merciful.

Yes, he liked that.

Excitement vibrated through his entire body, but he had to move. There was more work to do.

He took the jerry can and soaked her body with fuel. Satisfied he was finished with her, he continued pouring as he walked down the hall, then stairs, to the main level.

He stopped in the middle of the house, a few feet from the puddle of fuel, his gas can now empty. He pulled a matchbook and struck one to flame. He watched it dance on the tip for a second or two before tossing it onto the accelerant. It ignited with a blast of heat.

He hustled through the door into the backyard, a smile on his face. The darkness of early morning and his black clothing were his cover. The neighborhood, too, was one in which people saw and heard nothing—and they certainly didn’t talk to the police. Besides, most people would still be in bed.

And by the time anyone smelled smoke, the place would be ash. The girl along with it.

One

Washington, DC

Thursday, April 1st, 10:00 AM

Amanda Steele’s phone rang, and she looked down at it on the conference table in front of her. She was seated in a room at a prestigious Washington law firm with her mother, and her mother’s lawyer, Hannah Byrd.

Hannah stopped talking mid-sentence and looked at Amanda.

Caller ID told her it was her boss, Sergeant Malone. When Malone called, it often meant someone was dead. She looked apologetically at her mother and Hannah. “I’m sorry, but I need to take this.”

“No problem,” Hannah assured her with a smile.

“Thanks.” Amanda answered and listened as Malone told her she was needed back in Dumfries immediately. A young woman had been pulled from a house fire in the east end, and the circumstances looked suspicious.

“Sorry, I know that you’re probably in Washington right now…” Also a family friend, Malone knew about the meeting and the reason for it.

“No, don’t mention it. I think we’re almost finished anyway.” She sought out Hannah’s gaze, and the lawyer nodded. “I’ll get there as soon as I can.” She hung up and looked at her mother, feeling swamped with guilt. “I’m sorry, Mom.”

“You’ve got a case.” A conclusion, not a question. But her mother was familiar with the demands on those in law enforcement, and it was one reason Amanda and her mother had driven there separately. If something came up, then it would free Amanda to leave.

“I do.” Amanda was torn. She wanted to get out of there but couldn’t quite get herself to move.

“Go,” her mother prompted.

“Will you be all right if I…?” Amanda pointed to the door.

“I’m a grown-ass woman, so, yes. Go. Besides, Hannah will take care of me.”

Amanda hesitated a few seconds longer, then stood and tapped a kiss on her mother’s forehead. She thanked her and Hannah for their understanding and left.

Stepping outside, she appreciated the warm, fresh air and the freedom—not that it could erase the reality that her mother was facing a murder charge. A murder charge, the thought repeated in her head.

She’d had a few months to come to terms with it and still hadn’t. Maybe it was really because she didn’t want to accept it. After all, Julie—Jules—Steele had been an upstanding citizen all her life… well, until this point.

She’d raised Amanda and her siblings—a brother and four sisters—and was now a grandmother to four. She was also the wife of the former police chief of the Prince William County Police Department.

Amanda got into her Honda Civic and headed to the Dumfries address Malone had given her. It would take about forty minutes, give or take depending on traffic, to get there from Washington. But she didn’t need a GPS to tell her that. She knew the route and every backstreet in Dumfries, where she’d grown up. It was a small town of under six thousand—not exactly a booming metropolis—but it was a desirable place to live given its close vicinity to Washington, DC. The flipside was that crime levels were probably higher than what other small and more isolated communities might see.

While her father had been police chief for the PWCPD until his retirement five years ago, Amanda was currently a detective with Homicide stationed out of Central District Station in Woodbridge—another small town about ten minutes from Dumfries. Maybe one day she’d reach the position of chief, but given the trajectory of her life during the past six years, it might be a while before that happened.

She pulled down a side street, headed toward 532 Bill Drive, and had to park a block away. Dumfries PD had the area cordoned off to allow the firefighters room to work. She didn’t see any sign of her partner, Trent Stenson, who Malone had told her would meet her on scene. She did see her friend, Becky Tulson, who worked with the Dumfries PD, though.

The same age as Amanda at thirty-five, Becky had her shoulder-length brown hair pulled back into a ponytail, which accentuated her heart-shaped face.

Amanda parked and got out of the car. The smell of smoke clung heavy in the air and tickled her throat.

She looked down the street at the mangle of emergency response vehicles. There were a few fire engines with the Dumfries Triangle Volunteer Fire Department, a medic’s truck, an ambulance, and a police cruiser. They were all parked haphazardly in front of a two-story house that didn’t look like it was in too bad of shape, considering it had been on fire.