Stolen Daughters (Detective Amanda Steele)

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?”