Stolen Daughters (Detective Amanda Steele)

She got to her feet, sensing there was real trouble. “What is it?”

“Got a lead. A good one.”

She’d woken him up last night to fill him in on Crystal, how that went down, the man with the black eyes, and the as-of-yet unidentified man in the photo. “Let’s have it.”

“A lady here in Woodbridge called the tip line. She saw a man with two young women near her home on Saturday night. Said it looked like he forced them into the back of a van.”

“Could be the same man and women from the Clear Mountain Circle crime scene. Trent and I will check it out.”

Forty-Six

Janet Mills welcomed Amanda and Trent inside her h

ouse and told them to get comfortable in the dining room while she put on the kettle for tea. She was in her early sixties with a rotund body and a pleasant smile, though it came quickly and disappeared just as fast.

Amanda and Trent were seated at her dining table while the woman walked around, getting mugs from the cupboards and milk and sugar. It would have been nice to turn down the tea and crank up the urgency of their visit, but Amanda had the sense that, with a woman like Janet, hastiness would just clam her up. She was talking to the cops because she wanted to help, but in return, she expected respect.

“We just need to wait for it to steep.” Janet poured the boiled water into an actual teapot and set it on the table. As much as Amanda’s family loved tea, they were good with a bag in a cup.

Janet sat down, smoothing out the front of her yellow, floral-patterned dress as she did so. She’d apparently put some effort into beautifying herself for their visit. Her gray hair was bobby-pinned in tight pinwheels against her scalp. She had on red lipstick, which was half worn off due to her dry lips, and some color was outside the lines.

“Thank you for calling in about what you saw, Ms. Mills,” Amanda started, and had her mouth open to continue when Janet proceeded to talk.

“Of course, dear. It’s the least I could do after hearing about those two dead girls in the fire.” She tsked and shook her head.

“You said that you saw a man with two young women getting into the van Saturday night?” Trent asked, leaning forward, his notepad nearby.

Janet slowly drew her eyes from Amanda to Trent. “I did, and I just got the feeling that something wasn’t right. He forced them into that van, I tell you.”

“Actually, before we get to the details of what you saw, what time was this?” Amanda asked, passing a soft glance at Trent.

“It was somewhere around eleven thirty.”

Justin Cooper said that he saw the man and women around midnight, so that could fit. They would have had to drive from Woodbridge to Dumfries, park, and go from there. “Okay, so you saw them around eleven thirty… Did you see where they came from before getting to the van?”

“They came from that way.” Janet pointed toward the front window, which was visible from where they were, and crooked her finger to the right.

Janet’s house was in an area that was mixed residential and commercial. “Great. Did you see them coming out of a house or another building?”

“No, I’d remember that.”

“Did you ever see them before?” Trent interjected.

“I don’t think so. Now, if you look out my front window—” she gestured in its direction again “—you see that parking lot across the street?”

Amanda nodded.

“The van was parked over there,” Janet said.

Amanda had seen the sign when they’d pulled up—the lot was attached to Gamble Insurance, quite a name given their business. But if they had surveillance cameras, their recorded footage might be useful to the investigation. They’d go over there after finishing with Janet. Now, an insurance company would likely be barren at night, let alone on the weekend, but Amanda asked, “Were any other vehicles parked there at the time?”

“Just that jalopy in the corner.” Janet got up and walked to the window. Amanda joined her but noticed that Trent had removed the teabags from the pot and set them on a saucer, before following.

There was a rusted sedan with at least one deflated tire—the car sat on an angle, like it was depressed. It was at the edge of the lot, newer models all around it. Monday morning: everyone was at work now.

“Think it belongs to one of the owners,” Janet started. “It’s been there forever. Wish they’d move the bloody thing, though. It’s such an eyesore.”

“But there were no other vehicles or people around that you saw Saturday night?” Amanda just wanted to be sure.