Stolen Daughters (Detective Amanda Steele)

“And I’m Detective Amanda Steele. We need to ask you some questions about two rooms you would have cleaned yesterday morning at the Sunny Motel.” She added the last bit, just in case she had another cleaning job.

“You ’spect me to remember?”

“We’re hoping you can. We’re following a lead in an open murder investigation,” Amanda explained.

She didn’t say anything, just backed up to let them enter.

The apartment was compact and modestly furnished. It was clean and tidy.

“What do you want to know exactly?” Mitzi asked.

“Rooms seven and eight were rented out Saturday night to a man,” Amanda started.

“If you say so.”

“Yes, I say so.” Amanda gave her a tight smile. “Do you remember cleaning those rooms on Sunday morning?”

“Well, I would have cleaned them, yes.”

“Do you remember the state of the rooms?” She’d start the

re.

“Ah, sí, both beds were made. Found that unusual. Very unusual. I stripped and remade them anyway. You know, just in case people had done the nasty and pulled the sheets back.”

“Was there any evidence that the person who rented the rooms had sex in them?” Trent asked. “Maybe used condoms in the trash?”

Mitzi shook her head. “The garbage cans were empty.”

So what did the guy do? And how could nothing in the room have been touched? Surely even the girls would have come in and sat on the bed. There was a table and two chairs in each room, though. “Did anything in the room looked used?”

“Sí. Two glasses. Smelled like whiskey maybe?” Mitzi didn’t sound like she was confident in that conclusion. “They would have been washed and put back in the room.”

Amanda sighed. Just as she had feared. That made them of no use to the investigation, just like this interview was proving to be. “Thank you for talking with us, Ms. Ruiz.”

“You’re very welcome.”

They reached the hall, and no sooner had the door closed than Mitzi secured the lock and chain.

“Too much to hope we’d have gotten something from her,” Trent lamented as they headed back to the car.

“We had to talk to her.”

“What’s our next step? Revisiting the interviews and seeing if we can somehow turn up an ID on Tom Cruise?”

They got into the car, Trent driving.

“Unless you have a better idea.” But their killer wasn’t going to hand over his ID and address. Besides, he likely left before the interviews were started, as she’d thought earlier. “We can also dig more into closed cases that are similar to the ones we’re working.”

“We only reached a dead end with that before.”

“Well, if you have any suggestions, spit ’em out,” she snapped, and felt instant remorse. “I’m sorry. I’m just tired of banging my head against a brick wall.”

“Me too.”

Her stomach growled. “How about we grab something to eat before heading back to the station? It’s not quite five, but better to grab something while we can.”

“Not going to argue.”