Stolen Daughters (Detective Amanda Steele)

“You could have been angry with the bank, the direction of your life,” Amanda put out there. “You could have finally had enough.”

He swallowed roughly, and his facial expression soured. “And what? Killed some random girl? And tell me, do killers usually vomit in their mouths?”

She made a show of considering, even though she had to admit that the likelihood Glenn was the person they were after was slim.

“They do?” Glenn blanched, seeming to jump to a conclusion from the silence.

“Uh, maybe you could just tell us where you were this morning from, say, four until six?” Trent asked, covering the time-of-death window and then some.

“I was in bed.”

“Can anyone verify that?” Trent looked ready to write down a name and number.

Glenn shook his head and frowned. “Unfortunately not. My date last night didn’t exactly go according to plan.”

She gave Glenn her card and said, “Call me once you solidify your alibi.”

“How am I supposed to do that?”

“Just speak with your neighbors, Mr. Burke. Maybe someone can confirm you were home.” She got up and stepped into the hallway with Trent.

He closed the door behind them. “I don’t think he did it.”

“Me neither, but sometimes we need more than our gut feelings.”

“What we need is to make some headway,” he mumbled. “So far, we’re not making much at all.”

“That’s how it works sometimes, but we keep asking questions and talking to people, and if we’re doing it right, eventual

ly we get to the truth and we catch a killer.”

They got into the department car, and the clock on the dash told them it was quarter to six. The autopsy was in forty-five minutes, and they had a thirty-minute drive to get there.

“Take us through a drive-thru for something to eat. We’ll chow down on the way, but you’ll need to step on it if we’re going to make it to Manassas in time.” Her phone rang and caller ID came up as Alibi. Otherwise known as Logan Hunter. Long story made short, he’d been her alibi in a previous murder case. Someday she’d get around to renaming the contact. “Detective Steele.”

“Detective. I’ll never get tired of hearing you say that.”

Her belly fluttered, and her core flushed hot at the sound of his voice. Logan was her new… Whatever he was, he was good in bed. “I’m working a case. Is there something I can help you with?”

“Ouch. So cold.”

She laughed at his mocked offense. “Don’t be so sensitive.”

“Easy for you to say, you’re a bad-ass cop.”

Trent glanced over at her, and she pushed closer toward the door, as if the extra half inch would give her the privacy she wanted. “I can’t talk right now.”

“Okay, well, I’ll figure out what to do with this prime rib steak all on my own, then.”

All on my own… Then her mind cleared. It was Thursday night, and he was supposed to be cooking them dinner at her place. “Oh! I’m so sorry. I completely forgot.”

“It’s okay. Really. You got a case. It happens.” He talked like he was a cop and understood the job, but he worked in construction.

“I really am sorry.” Her stomach was grumbling. She’d only been seeing Logan for the last few months, but he was an amazing cook. “I’ll take a rain check if you’re handing them out.”

“For you, I’ll make an exception.”

“Thank you. Again, I’m sorry about this.”