Stolen Daughters (Detective Amanda Steele)

She opened the folder and gleaned the takeaway points again. Daniel Ross had died in that barn from the stab wound she’d inflicted. Finding this out hadn’t filled her with regret. He wouldn’t face his day in court and be held accountable by the justice system, but it was assured that no one would suffer at his hands again.

It was not getting full closure as to motive that gnawed on her, but some cases never got neatly wrapped up. While they’d never hear what had driven Daniel directly from him, she suspected he had been desperate for attention. His final words, “You see me,” sort of clinched that for her.

And it would seem he’d hated his sister. They were struggling in that loft, after all. How far back did the sibling animosity go? Had Daniel’s parents always favored the daughter, and then when she went missing and was declared dead, had they become consumed by grief and neglected Daniel completely? If so, maybe Daniel’s young mind had placed the blame for that on Christina’s shoulders. It could be that every time he killed, he saw his sister’s face and was really killing her. As for what had triggered him, that answer, too, was taken with him to the grave.

Another thing that may be buried forever were the identities of the victims of the Clear Mountain Circle fire. At least they weren’t without justice. But one day, Amanda hoped to bring their families closure.

Mia Vaughn confirmed that the second fire was the result of a propane tank explosion, though she couldn’t narrow down exactly what had been used to start the fire that ignited the gas.

Forensic results from the murder cases had finally come back too. The tox panel on Ashley Lynch had confirmed that she had ketamine in her system. The epithelia under Fox’s nails, and the palm print lifted from the Sunny Motel matched to Daniel.

She checked the time on her phone and realized she had to get going. She was meeting a friend for a long overdue coffee and hoping for some updates. It was still playing on her mind how Christina had gone from victim to perpetrator.

* * *

Amanda entered Hannah’s Diner, and May pulled her in for a hug and squeezed tight.

“There’s my girl. Let me get ya a coffee and muffin. I’ll be right back with it.” She nudged her head to a corner booth. “Your friend’s already here.”

May hustled off, and Amanda headed toward a woman who could easily have been a model. Athletic build, with a dark, smooth complexion. Her skin seemed to glow, testifying to regular exercise and a healthy diet. Her brown hair was all tight, springy curls, and didn’t reach the top of her shoulders. But what Amanda really noticed were her sparkling eyes, and the second they met each other’s gaze, the two of them grinned.

“Is that actually Detective Amanda Steele in the flesh?” Patty beamed.

“Only if you’re Detective Patty Glover.” Amanda had imagined Patty to be older, but seeing her now, she realized they were probably about the same age.

Patty held out her hand and gave Amanda’s a robust shake. “Please, sit.” She gestured across from her, and May returned with the coffee and the snack.

Amanda lifted her cup to take a sip, and Patty rushed to lift hers, holding it toward Amanda’s in a toast gesture. “To the beginning of an amazing friendship.”

Amanda smiled and clinked her cup to Patty’s, and both women took sips of their drinks.

“Okay, now, maybe I’ll get down to business…” Patty angled her head. She had such a harmless mischievousness to her in person. Not a real surprise, as it did travel across the phone line. In person, though, her entire face lit up with the delivery. “I don’t even know where to start.”

“Christina Ross.” Amanda had heard that Christina was expected to make a full recovery.

“All right. You know she’s going to be just fine and that I’ve interviewed her?”

Amanda nodded.

“She confessed to setting that fire seven years ago. She was eighteen at the time and saw it as her way out.”

“Brave. She must have been terrified.”

“No doubt, and desperate. She’s not remorseful that one of the girls died, though. Something’s gotten screwed up in her mind—not that that’s a surprise, given all she’s been through.”

That brought up another chilling thought. “Someone else was laid to rest under Christina’s headstone. Did she know who died in that fire?”

Patty shook her head. “She didn’t give me anything, no matter how hard I pressed. There’s an order underway to exhume the remains, but it might be a long time before we ever get a name. If we ever do. No idea where Christina’s been living, but I did find her on the data chip. Her nickname had been Fresh off the Farm. Sickening.”

Amanda took a deep breath, her coffee still mostly untouched. “I really need you to help me understand something. What turned Christina Ross into one of them?”

“Short answer. Survival. She told me that she’d reported Randy Hart all those years ago.”

“The nine-one-one call.”

“That’s right. She was hoping police would dissemble the ring, but instead the ring caught up with her. She felt she had to make herself valuable to them if they were going to let her live. So that’s what she did.”

“But isn’t that unusual?” Amanda had heard of Stockholm syndrome. Was it something similar that had messed up Christina’s mind?