Stolen Daughters (Detective Amanda Steele)

He was twitchy and kept looking at the ground. He was either high or nervous—maybe both.

“What’s your name?” She pulled her notepad from a back pocket. She often went back and forth between using an app on her phone to the old-school method of pen and paper.

“Simon.”

“Well, Simon, how long have you been standing here?” She pulled the pen out of the book’s coils.

“Dunno.”

“Since the fire started?”

He met her eyes now. “After I heard the sirens.”

“So since early this morning?”

“Yeah.” He glanced away again.

He must not have a job to get to during the day. “Do you live along here?” She pointed down the street with her pen.

“Next block over.” He pushed back his hoodie and revealed spiky, teal-colored hair. “I’m a light sleeper.”

“Can anyone confirm that you were at home and in bed before coming here?”

“My girlfriend, Cindy.” He looked around the crowd. “She just went to get us coffee.”

Amanda nodded. It would seem neither of them held a day job. “So why have you been here all this time? Do you like watching fires?” The comment Sullivan had made about firebugs loving to watch their creations wasn’t far from her mind.

“Not particularly. Suppose I’m still here because… well, someone died in there, right?” He swallowed roughly, his Adam’s apple heaving. “I watched the medic get the body from the firefighters, and now you’re here asking all these questions. Was the person murdered?”

“It’s an open investigation.” She was about to ask if he’d seen anyone around the house, particularly any squatters, when a woman called out Simon’s name.

She looked to be about the same age as Simon. She wore large dark-lensed sunglasses, and her hair was blond with teal highlights. To match her boyfriend’s hair? She stepped through the crowd holding two coffee cups. She handed one to Simon and, with a bit of a scowl, faced Amanda. “Who are you?”

“Detective Steele with Prince William County Police. And you are?”

“Cindy.”

“Where do you live?” Amanda asked.

Simon’s brow scrunched up. “I told you—”

Amanda held up a hand. “If Cindy could answer…”

“Just a block over.” Cindy slurped back some coffee.

“An address?”

Simon rattled it off, and Amanda noted it in her book, then looked at Cindy. “Where were you when you heard the sirens?”

“I just—”

Amanda leveled a glare at Simon, and he stopped talking. She wanted to hear Cindy’s response.

“In bed.” Cindy nestled into Simon’s side, and he put an arm around her.

“Are you familiar with the house at all, maybe the people who squatted here?” Amanda flicked a finger toward 532.

“Not really,” Cindy replied and put her lips to her coffee cup.