Stolen Daughters (Detective Amanda Steele)

Trent glanced at her and must have sensed she was too angry to continue, so he picked up for her. “It was a guy… Can you give us anything else?”

“All I can tell you is that he was a friend of Ms. Fox’s friend.”

“Okay,” Trent dragged out. “And the name of your source’s friend?”

“No names,” Fraser repeated. “He just said that she’s the one who discovered Ms. Fox.”

Amanda shot up straight. That meant the killer had been right there—probably in the crowd—and seen Bethany Greene talking to the police. That would excuse the lack of a name. He wouldn’t have known it. “No names at all. That probably should have been a clue right there. And let me guess, no phone number either?”

“No.”

“We’re going to need to know exactly when he called and the number he reached you on.” She’d get a contact of hers in Digital Crimes to track the call. He had a way of unlocking even blocked numbers.

“I’m not going to do that for you.”

“You are, or we—” she gestured between herself and Trent “—are going to arrest you for interfering in an active murder investigation.”

Fraser wiped his brow. “Fine. I’ll give you what you want. But it’s not because I respond to threats—” he shot a sour glare her way “—but because of Ms. Fox and her family and friends.” Fraser pulled his cell phone and scrolled through his log. Then he proceeded to give her the time and date of the call, along with his number.

Trent recorded it all in his notebook.

Amanda stood, and Trent followed her lead. She said to Fraser, “I still want you to get that article taken down.”

Fraser just stared at her blankly.

“You said that you were giving us the call information because of Ms. Fox and her family and friends? Well, her killer is feeding on the story of her murder getting out in fine detail. Do you really want to be his puppet and by doing so cause those people more pain?”

Fraser scowled. “I’m struggling because the public has a right to know there’s a serial killer in Prince William County.”

“You put that in your article too?” She felt nauseous. Start tossing out “serial killer” and people lost all common sense.

“No, but I’m thinking about a follow-up piece.”

She narrowed her eyes, really detesting the guy and what he represented. “Don’t.” Fraser shrugged, and her core temperature went up a few notches. “I’d also like to ask that you stop running your mouth all over town, starting with your friends, including Ted Dixon. He’s been spreading the rumor about Ms. Fox’s severed tongue around Bill Drive.”

“Is it rumor, though, when it’s the truth?”

She stiffened. “I never said it was.”

He smirked. “Everything about your visit here tells me it is.”

She left his apartment and closed his door just a little lighter than a slam. She turned to Trent, fuming. “He can’t get away with this. The information about Shannon’s severed tongue has no place in the mainstream media. None.”

“I agree with you, but what are we supposed to do?”

It took her less than two seconds to come up with the answer. “We have to get a media ban put in place. Simple as that.” Though there probably wasn’t anything simple about it. She’d have to convince Malone it was a good idea.

She called him on the way back to the car. Malone told her he was stuck at home for the night, and, yeah, he knew it was only six o’clock, but it was also a Saturday and his wife would kill him if he left. He welcomed her to come over, though.

“Malone’s at home,” she told Trent, “and I’m headed there to plead our case about a media ban. Hopefully, he sees the logic.” She’d never asked Malone for this type of thing before, so she really didn’t know how he’d respond.

“Okay, and while you’re doing that, how about I pop by and see Bethany Greene? I could see if she mentioned the severed tongue to any of her friends. After that, I can go back to Central and find out what I can about Ashley Lynch.”

“Great plan. I’m going to loop in Jacob Briggs over at Digital Crimes and get him tracking the call to Fraser’s phone. Maybe we’ll get lucky.”

Thirty-One

Amanda was on the doorstep of Malone’s two-story house in Woodbridge. Located just ten minutes from Central, he could probably walk to work—not that she’d ever known him to.