Stolen Daughters by Carolyn Arnold (top novels TXT) 📗

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Everyone was in position who needed to be. Ross’s townhouse was in a low-key area of Dumfries. SWAT would move in, clear, and secure the location. Also, hopefully, free Logan. Amanda and Trent were hanging close by to make the arrest. At least that was the plan.

At 8:15 PM, the SWAT team leader approached Amanda, Trent, and Malone.

She stepped forward. “Did you find Logan?”

The SWAT guy shook his head. “No sign of him or Ross, but we’ll be executing the rights of the search warrant. We’ll keep you posted on what we find.”

“No sign of—” She clamped her mouth shut and swallowed hard. Maybe they were too late to save Logan? Maybe they shouldn’t have waited on SWAT and just moved in themselves…

“Could we take a look inside?” Trent asked.

“Sure. That’s fine.”

She followed Trent into the house and noted immediately how tidy and organized it was—everything had its place.

She went over to the coffeemaker, gloved up, and opened the filter section. It was empty. She checked the garbage bin, also empty. Was he living or staying somewhere else?

She looked over for Trent but couldn’t see him. “Trent?” She walked down a hallway.

“In here,” he called out.

She joined him in a bedroom. “I don’t think Ross has been here in the last day or two.”

“Longer than that.” He pointed toward the dresser where an alarm clock was flashing. “The power went out last Wednesday.”

“He might have just left it to blink?”

Trent shook his head. “No. His crimes tell us he’s organized.”

“Suppose that’s true and, if anything, this would drive him mad.” She tried to keep calm, but it was impossible. “Where are they, Trent? Are we sure this is the only property registered to Ross?”

“All that I found.”

“We look again. He has to be holding Logan somewhere else.” She could hear the pleading in her voice, but he had to still be alive. She pulled the bagged photo of Logan she’d brought with her and took in the wood boards behind him. “Look,” she said, pointing it out to Trent. “It looks rustic.” With the word, it seemed like everything started to tumble into place. She paced and spoke. “The Ross family was from Haymarket. It’s more rural there. They could have lived in a farmhouse or log cabin.”

“Okay, but there were no other properties under Daniel’s name, and his family is all dead.”

“All dead,” she repeated and headed straight for their department car with Trent tagging along. “You said the mother just died around Christmas, right?”

“Ah, yeah. So?”

“So… maybe the property’s held up in probate. Daniel could still have access to it.”

They got into the vehicle, and Trent did a search for properties under the name of Lori Ross. “She had a place out on Logmill Road.”

That was about as rural as a place got around here, and it was in Haymarket. “Let’s go.” She pointed to the ignition button.

“What? No, we can’t go. We need to inform Malone, get SWAT together again.”

She took a few deep breaths. Daniel’s warning had been clear: stop coming for him or Logan was dead. What if he knew they’d just stormed his house? “I’m serious, Trent. You either start driving or get out of the car. We can’t wait for SWAT again. Logan might not have that amount of time.”

He looked at her for a long moment, and his cheeks flushed. She was about to state her case again, when he turned on the car and pulled away from the curb.

“Screw it,” he said. “A man’s life is at stake, right? We can’t wait.”

Fifty-Seven

“This it?” Amanda looked out the passenger window as Trent slowed the department car to a crawl, then a stop, in front of a driveway.

A gate sat open and crooked on its hinges, and a rusted trailer sat sentinel just inside the entrance, listing to its left side and disappearing into a thicket of grass. Down the driveway, through and around more overgrown grass, thick bushes, and mature trees, she could make out the peak of a barn. The wood was gray and weathered in the moonlight. The property must have suffered from neglect long before Lori Ross had died.

“Right address,” Trent said. “Should I pull in?”

She didn’t see a white van, and aside from the opened gate there was nothing to indicate that someone might be on the property. “Drive up there and park.” She flicked her finger toward a small curve in the road that was shielded by a row of mature trees.

Trent crept them ahead and cut the engine. “Now what?”

She already had her arm extended for her door handle. “We take a look around. If we spot anything suspicious, we’ll call it in. Promise.” She wasn’t going to tell Trent that her desire to nail Daniel Ross had slid down her list of priorities beneath saving Logan. She got out of the car, noticing that with the headlights off, it was pitch dark. She turned on her phone’s flashlight.

The air felt like rain, and thunder rumbled in the distance. She looked up at the sky. Heavy cloud cover.

“We approach slowly, and we stick together,” she cautioned.

“Don’t have to tell me twice. Last time I ran off ahead after a serial killer, I was shot.”

They kept their flashlights aimed right in front of them to keep their beams small and pointed. Less chance of it tipping Daniel off they were there, and less chance of them stumbling on the uneven ground.

They passed the trailer and stuck to the edge of the drive, close to the high grass. Maybe it had been a bad and impulsive idea to come here—but she shucked it aside. In life, seconds mattered, and she wouldn’t waste any more getting to Logan.

The barn was on the left of the driveway. A white fence banked the property on the other side of the barn.

“This used to be a horse farm,” she concluded.

“Think you’re right.”

They were passing the barn now, and a side door was open to the