Stolen Daughters by Carolyn Arnold (top novels TXT) 📗

She entered but didn’t bother to close the door or make herself comfortable. She wasn’t planning to be there for long.

“Why don’t you sit.” The way he presented the offer made it more a command. There was no doubt when he added, “Close the door first.”

She did, then dropped into the chair across from his desk. “What’s up?”

He pointed to the coffee in her hand. “Where’s mine?”

“Next time.”

“All right. You came to me, so you start.”

“Just following up on the nine-one-one recording.” She sipped her coffee.

“It should be in your inbox soon.” He leaned forward, clasped his hands on the desk, and let out a loud sigh.

“What’s going on?” Given his body language, she wasn’t sure she wanted to press him.

He let out another sigh and shuffled some papers around on his desk. She held out a hand to stop him.

“Whatever it is, I can handle it.” She appreciated that he seemed to be trying to protect her from something, but she’d been through hell in this life and survived. “Sergeant?” Maybe using his title would jar him to speak.

“The lieutenant is moving to have you demoted.”

Amanda came close to jumping out of the chair. “What? Why?” She was aware the woman hated her, but as far as she knew she hadn’t given her any fresh reason to go after her. In fact, the last time she had an audience with the woman, Hill had thanked her for her work.

“She’s been keeping a close eye on your performance…”

“Then she’ll notice my close rate has been a hundred percent.”

He loosened his tie and unbuttoned his collar. “She’s more concerned with—or should I say interested in—the fact your mother has been charged with murder.”

“What does that have to do with me, and the job I’m doing?” It felt like little electric currents were running through her body.

“She believes that you could easily lose focus.”

She and Trent had worked two homicides since her mother was arrested, and the killers were now awaiting their day in court. “Regardless of what my close rate shows? Unbelievable.” Amanda gritted her teeth.

He held up a hand. “I know your close rate is incredible.”

She flailed her hands as if to say, Yep.

“If it was based on that alone—”

“It should be,” she burst out. Her heart was racing, and she was burning up. How dare this woman hold her mother’s actions against her? But Amanda instantly felt hypocritical. After all, she blamed herself. She asked herself the what-ifs, including what if she’d never pulled away from her family in their time of grief? Would her mother still have done what she had? “I know you’re on my side, but that woman—” She clamped her mouth shut, too angry to continue.

“She pisses the hell out of me too, but for now we’re stuck with her.”

“For now?” That was enough to make her sit straighter and give her some hope for the future.

“Didn’t mean to get you excited, and I probably shouldn’t say anything.”

“Please do.”

“Rumor’s going around that she may be transferring to—”

“She’s leaving the PWCPD? There is a God.”

“Amanda Steele,” he reprimanded, sounding more like a father or an uncle than her sergeant.

She should have known better than to bring God into any of this. Malone was far more religious than she could ever claim to be, but she couldn’t bring herself to apologize. Her faith in a greater being had been shaken when her husband and daughter died. Also wiped out that day had been her unborn baby and her ability to have children in the future—collateral damage only she knew about.

Malone’s cheeks were flushed. “She’s not leaving the PWCPD. She just might not be in our face as much.”

Why doesn’t that make me feel better? “Where’s she transferring?” Dread balled up and kneaded in her gut.

“She’s looking to take over for Chief Paxton.” He clasped his hands again.

“You’ve got to be kidding.” Ernie Paxton had become chief after her father had left the department. Paxton was four years older than her father, and she had never expected he’d stay at the post forever, but a little longer would have been nice. “She doesn’t deserve to be police chief. Please tell me there’s no chance in hell.” For some reason he never objected to mention of the fiery abyss; just don’t speak about God in vain.

“I wish I could. She has supporters on the county’s board of supervisors.”

Officially known as the Prince William County Board of Supervisors—the ones with the power to appoint the police chief.

“Surely someone else wants to be considered.” She groaned.

“Not that I know of.” He slowly raised his eyes to meet hers.

“Son of a bitch.”

“Yeah. But you don’t even need to worry about her promotion so much as the fact she’s determined to get you demoted before she leaves her role as LT.”

She narrowed her eyes and clenched her jaw. “She’s really threatened by me that much?”

“Seems so.”

She knew Sherry Hill and Nathan Steele had never gotten along—neither had respect for the other one. But now that rivalry threatened Amanda’s career. “I’ll get my lawyer involved if she comes after me, Scott. I will.” She rarely pulled out Malone’s first name, but it tumbled from her lips now.

“I am going to do all in my power to get her to back off, but you need to leave her alone, keep your nose clean, your head down.”

“I’ll tell you what I should do. Go after police chief myself.” An obvious stretch at this point, given that she was still working to get her mind straight.

“One day. Just trust me, Amanda.” His use of her first name was reassuring and comforting.

“I do, and I appreciate the heads-up on her plans. Thank you.” She stood, and her phone chimed notice of a new email. She opened it, saw the attachment, and read the subject: 911 Recording—532 Bill Drive, House Fire. She held up her phone. “Got the recording.”

“Good. Keep me posted on the case.”

“Will