Stolen Daughters (Detective Amanda Steele)

“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.