Stolen Daughters by Carolyn Arnold (top novels TXT) 📗

a chain-link fence, and on the other side was a two-story building. The backside of a motel, if Amanda remembered correctly. She could vaguely recall the roadside sign but couldn’t pin down the name.

Working on the assumption that the two new victims had also been caught up in sex trafficking, a motel could make sense. The girls could have been delivered to the motel, and then the killer had taken them from there.

“Come with me.” She picked up her speed and ducked up the side street toward the motel. With each step, she felt like they were getting that much closer to their killer.

Forty-Seven

Amanda could have been seeing things where there was nothing to see, a link, a connection, and tugging at loose threads with no consequence. But she had to follow her gut. Her father had taught her that.

Trent was tagging along behind her. Her focus was on the motel. It looked like every second room had a rear exit. She walked to the front of the place and saw the sign.

Sunny Motel. All in its bright-yellow glory, but it brought the past hurtling back. Sunny Motel had been one of the first dive motels where she’d had a one-night stand.

She went into the lobby and found a forty-something man sitting with his legs crossed and reading a newspaper behind a counter. He set it down, uncrossed his legs, and leaned forward. “Hourly or for the night?” He drew his half-mast, lazy eyes from Amanda over to Trent.

Trent held up his badge, beating her to doing the same thing by a few seconds. “Prince William County PD, Homicide,” he said.

“Detectives Steele and Stenson,” Amanda added. “We have some questions about a guest who might have rented a room Saturday night.”

“I can’t answer those type of questions without a warrant.” He picked up his paper.

“Maybe you could tell us if you saw this man before.” She brought up the picture of their mystery man on her phone and held it toward him. She felt fine about showing this to the clerk, as she was just making a simple inquiry at this point.

Time ticked off. Slowly, the paper was lowered again. He rolled closer to the counter and squinted at the screen. “Tom Cruise?” Only one of his eyebrows arched up.

“Someone who looks like him.”

“Tom Cruise’s doppelgänger is wanted by the police?” His eyes sparkled, and he chuckled. “Now I’ve heard everything.”

She shrugged. “You could just say he’s a person of interest. What’s your name?”

“Roy Marble, but you can call me Roy.”

“Okay, Roy, have you seen this guy?” She looked at her phone to draw his attention back to the photo.

He rubbed his jaw. “I think I need a warrant.”

She bobbed her head. “Sure, I can understand if you’d prefer one, but for me to get that approved, I need a little help from you.” She held her fingers to within a half inch of touching.

“Sounds like your problem,” he muttered, then volunteered, “My aunt Judy was murdered. You said you were with Homicide?” He looked at Trent to answer.

“Uh-huh,” he confirmed.

“Sorry about your aunt,” Amanda offered sincerely, but she also saw a way to use this knowledge to their advantage.

He waved a hand of dismissal. “It was years ago now, but it really tore up my mom. It was her sister.”

“A horrible thing to be sure,” she said and put her phone away. “Murder of a loved one really cuts deep. My partner and I are just trying to bring some solace and closure to the friends and family of two recent victims.”

“Huh. I see what you’re trying to do here. You’re empathizing with me, so I feel sorry for you and open my mouth.”

Actually, you brought up your aunt…

“What’s the worst that can happen?” That came from Trent, and it had her looking at him. He met her gaze, and his eyes lit up like he was pleased with himself.

“I could lose my job, pal,” Roy said.

“Is it really that great of a job?” Trent made a show of gesturing around the ancient lobby and the pine—so much pine.

“That’s a low blow.”

“I mean, in light of what your help could do for bringing closure to the victims’ loved ones.” Trent applied one more twist of Roy’s arm.

“Very well,” Roy mumbled. “Yeah, I saw your Tom Cruise.”

A buzz jolted through Amanda’s body. He was no longer just a nameless face in a photo; he was most likely their killer. She wanted to pepper Roy with questions but feared shutting him down. She let seconds pass, giving Roy the opportunity to speak first, to give him a sense of control. It worked, because Roy eventually went on.

“He rented two rooms—seven and eight—for the night. He insisted, and I mean really insisted, that he have those specific rooms.”

“Did he say why?” Amanda asked.

“Said they were his lucky numbers. Whatever. Not that I really gave a crap what rooms he had as long as they were vacant.”

“How did he pay?” she inquired.

“Cash. Pretty much everyone pays cash here.”

She nodded. “Did he give you any ID?”

“Defeats the purpose of paying cash, don’t it?” He squared his shoulders, a bit on the defensive.

She could make an issue out of this, but Roy would probably show them the door. That would set the investigation back. “Anyone else rent those rooms since him?”

“Nope.”

“What about security surveillance?” she began. “Any cameras around here?”

“We got ’em, but I’m not giving you the footage without a warrant. The boss would have my ass.”

She nodded. “We’ll get a warrant. Right now, though, we’d like to see rooms seven and eight.”

“Sure. The hourly rate is affordable. See the sign.” He pointed to a sheet pressed into a laminate holder on the counter.

“We won’t touch a thing; you’ll never know we were there.” Amanda stopped talking as she observed his body language was still rigid. “You can come with us.”

Roy huffed. “Fine. But don’t make me regret this. I’ve gotten along fine all these years minding my own damn business, then the