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Stolen Daughters (Detective Amanda Steele)

Page 13

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The fact the world hadn’t yet acknowledged him made him feel cheated and vengeful. But his mother, in one of her better moods, had told him, “Focus on the good.”

He’d dwell on how killing made him feel powerful, in control, visible.

He looked down at his phone again and refreshed the search—and finally!

The headline read: “Arson Suspected in House Fire that Claimed One Victim.”

No! They’d gotten it all wrong. He had killed her, not the fire. When would the truth come out?

His phone pinged a reminder. It was time for him to go and do the job he was paid to do. Then he’d head home and plan his next act as The Merciful. He couldn’t take them all out, but now that he was awakened to his real purpose in life, he would kill as many girls as he could.

Seven

Amanda retrieved Trent from his desk, telling him she’d received the 911 recording, and they headed for the conference room.

“How did you make out on the property records?” She glanced over a shoulder at him as they made their way down the hall.

“The property was repossessed last August by Woodbridge Bank. It used to belong to a Glenn and Susan Burke. He’s living in an apartment in town. Susan’s in Madison, Wisconsin, where she’s been since September. Regardless, I pulled her background and his. No record on either of them.”

“Did you get a contact name at the bank?”

“Aiden Adkins is the one in charge of the property, and we have an appointment with him tomorrow morning at nine o’clock. That was the soonest I could get.”

She pulled out her phone and checked the time. It was half past three in the afternoon, and most banks around there closed at five. “Why not today?”

“Mr. Adkins is off.”

“All right.” Not that she was pleased.

They reached the conference room, and she entered first.

She proceeded to bring up the email with the 911 recording.

She turned her media volume up all the way and hit Play.

The house across the street is on fire.”

“Please tell me who I’m talking to,” the dispatcher replies.

“Shannon Fox. Please get the fire department here.”

“I see you’re calling from six-oh-two Bill Drive. Is that right, ma’am?”

“Yes.”

The dispatcher verifies Fox’s phone number, then asks, “What are you seeing?”

“I told you. The place is on fire. You going to get someone here to help?”

“When did you see the fire?”

“Just a minute ago.”

“What’s the address on the burning house?”

“Five thirty-two Bill Drive.”

“Is anyone in the house that you know of?”



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