Stolen Daughters (Detective Amanda Steele)

He beat her to hanging up, and that bittersweet feeling returned. There was something niggling at him besides Sherry Hill. Now, if only she could figure out what.

Forty-Nine

Amanda forwarded Malone the photo of their mystery man as Trent was putting his phone away.

“Judge Armstrong gave me the go-ahead,” he said. “We need to follow up with the proper paperwork and get it signed.”

“Standard procedure. But at least we can get started. You call Crime Scene?”

“Yeah.”

She filled Trent in on her call to Malone and nudged her head toward the motel office. “Let’s join Roy.”

They entered the lobby to find Roy behind the counter, his nose buried in the newspaper again.

He didn’t move the paper but spoke. “I’ve said too much already. I should have just kept my mouth shut. As I said before, it’s served me well.”

“We’ll get you protection if you’re truly concerned about your safety, but it’s very important that we get that license plate, as well as the make and model of the car that man drove.”

He took one hand off the newspaper to hand her a yellow sticky note. She reached for it, but he pulled it back. “You’re telling me the truth about getting me protection?”

“I will do all in my power to make it happen.” That was as close as she could come to making a promise. She’d have to run this by Malone, and then the decision would be his, but Roy had a legitimate reason to be afraid. After all, the sex-trafficking ring wouldn’t take too well to a rat and likely seek some form of retaliation.

Two cruisers pulled into the lot, and Roy got up. “I see the cavalry’s here.”

“It’s how it works.”

“Hmph.”

/> “What would your aunt Judy tell you to do?” A low blow, but it was effective. Roy handed the sticky note to Trent.

“It’s the license number. The car was a silver Nissan Sentra. I’d say a few years old.”

“Terrific. Thank you,” Trent said.

“Uh-huh. Let’s just hope I live to see another day.”

“You’re doing the right thing by helping,” she assured him. “Just a heads-up. We have a warrant to search rooms seven and eight.”

“Sure. Can I see it?” Roy held out an open hand, presumably for her phone.

“It’s a verbal one for now, but we could get Judge Armstrong on the line.”

Roy squinted. “Convenient,” he said sarcastically.

“Seriously. I can call him now if you’d like.”

“Don’t worry about it.”

“We’re also going to need to speak to whoever cleaned the rooms.” She’d love for forensics to find something to tie them to their suspect, but she wasn’t sure what that might be. If he had used a syringe to administer the drugs to the girls like he had Shannon Fox, it’s not like he would have tossed it in the trash for the maid to find. And would he have used a needle with two girls present? He could have if he’d been discreet, but it was more likely that he’d add the drug to their drinks. Less chance of a struggle or altercation.

“Her name is Mariam,” Roy said. “She’s already gone for the day.”

“We’ll need her home address and a phone number.” Amanda pulled her notepad out to write them down. “Ready when you are,” she prompted when Roy hadn’t said anything for a while.

He sighed but handed over the information.

“Thank you.” She returned the book to her pocket. “And I’ll be in touch about the protection.”