Stolen Daughters (Detective Amanda Steele)

“We got ’em, but I’m not giving you the footage without a warrant. The boss would have my ass.”

She nodded. “We’ll get a warrant. Right now, though, we’d like to see rooms seven and eight.”

“Sure. The hourly rate is affordable. See the sign.” He pointed to a sheet pressed into a laminate holder on the counter.

“We won’t touch a thing; you’ll never know we were there.” Amanda stopped talking as she observed his body language was still rigid. “You can come with us.”

Roy huffed. “Fine. But don’t make me regret this. I’ve gotten along fine all these years minding my own damn business, then the likes of you come around…” He was still grumbling while he grabbed the keys for both rooms from a pegboard. “Let’s go.” He held the lobby door open for them.

They followed him to room seven, and he unlocked the door. Inside, the place was furnished with dated furniture and had a worn, burnt-orange carpet. Just as she remembered it from years ago. There was a strange odor to the air that Amanda couldn’t quite place and wasn’t sure if it was must, mildew, human, rodent—or a combination.

“This is it,” Roy announced, opening his arms. “Quite the Ritz.” He smirked at Trent and went to a door in the middle of the room and unlocked it. “Voila! There you have it—adjoining rooms.”

Amanda and Trent walked into the room and through the door to the next. Room eight was a mirror of seven, but it had a rear exit. She put on a pair of gloves, unlatched the bolt, and ducked her head outside.

“Hey, you said you wouldn’t touch anything.”

She held up her gloved hands.

“Ah, so you go all CSI on me, and I’m supposed to be good with it?”

“You asked for that warrant, Roy, and I’m going to oblige. But there’s no harm in us having a quick look now. Was the man alone, or did he have company?”

Roy’s face became shadows. “I really shouldn’t say anymore.” He fidgeted with the keys in his hands.

“And why’s that?” she asked.

Roy rubbed his jaw, slid it left and right, and scanned the room. “Two girls were dropped off and joined him.”

Amanda’s stomach tossed. Sometimes she hated it when her instincts turned out to be right. Those young women had been sex-trafficking victims.

Forty-Eight

Amanda could only imagine how terrified those girls must have been every time they were delivered to a john. “Did you see who dropped them off?”

“I didn’t exactly get his name.”

“No need for sarcasm, Roy. And not really an answer to my question.”

He met her gaze but was the first to break eye contact. “I don’t think I’m comfortable saying much more.”

“You know what’s going on at the motel, then?” Amanda angled her head. “I’m going to guess it’s a regular thing by the way you’re acting. That would mean that you’re facilitating sex crimes.”

“I didn’t do anything to those girls.”

“Indirectly you did. Silence is what these lowlifes prey on. By not doing anything to help, you are a part of the problem.” Amanda paced a few steps. “I can have this entire place put under surveillance, and then you know what will happen?” She would be anyway, but he didn’t need to know that.

“What?”

She stopped moving. “You’ll be looking for a new job, possibly living out your life behind bars.”

“I didn’t do anything, and if I start talking, I’m good as dead.”

“Just continue cooperating with us, and I can get you protection if it comes to that.”

Roy narrowed his eyes and said, “I don’t like being strong-armed.”

“Look, it’s up to you how it goes from here,” she said. “Keep talking to us, and you’re aiding the police. We’re on your side. Clam up and—”