Stolen Daughters Carolyn Arnold (primary phonics books TXT) 📖

abuse. It’s really hard to break them free, and there’s no chance if they don’t want to help themselves.”

“I’m well aware.”

She usually tried to avoid getting too personal with Trent but… Screw it! “Someone you cared about was abused?”

“Yeah.”

“Want to talk about it?”

“Not really.”

She pulled out her phone and checked her email. She wasn’t going to pressure him to talk; she knew what it felt like to be on the receiving end of such an endeavor. It was shit.

“Tara probably just lied to cover for him,” Trent eventually said.

“She could have.”

“But he just gets away with being an ass.”

“For now.”

“It was my aunt… After my uncle’s death, she met this guy. She really thought she’d found love again. At first, it seemed she had, but that quickly changed. He ended up breaking her arm and three ribs.” He paused but didn’t meet her gaze, seeming lost in his own thoughts. “The shithead ended up getting away with it too. My aunt was too afraid to turn him in.”

“Sorry to hear that. Did she ever get away from him?”

Trent slowly shook his head. “Still with him, as far as I know. But, as you said, they have to want to help themselves. Sadly, my aunt lost her confidence and started to believe she deserved the way this guy treated her.”

“Jeez.”

“Yeah, there’s nothing much to say.” He looked over at her now, pressed his lips. “But now you know why I go off when I run into assholes like Sean Fitzgerald.”

“Understandable.” She knew she should have discouraged his behavior, but she couldn’t find it within herself. Sometimes, people just brought out the nasty side. It was human, badge or not.

“Hey, I know we have no real choice but to take Tara’s word. Doesn’t mean it doesn’t piss me off.”

“Just take a few deep breaths,” she encouraged without sounding patronizing. Her red-headed temper had gotten her into trouble more times than she could count, so she wasn’t qualified to stand as anyone’s judge.

Trent just sat there and breathed for a few seconds.

“Feel better?”

“Yeah. No. Not really. But thanks for trying.” He smiled at her.

“Anytime. Let’s just focus on what we got out of this visit. With Fitzgerald off the list, we can assume that the same person killed Jane Doe and Shannon Fox.”

“A serial killer? Not feeling all warm yet.”

She laughed. “I’m not concluding it’s a serial killer yet.”

“Okay, I can live with that.”

You will; the victims might not…

She glanced down at her phone. No email from Rideout, but there was one from Aiden Adkins. Seeing his name stamped home how talking with him had felt like another lifetime ago with everything that happened since.

She opened the banker’s email and scanned it. “We’ve got the names and contact numbers for the bank’s inspector, estimator, real estate agent, and contractor. Looks like the estimator is in Mexico on vacation and has been since last week. One person we can rule out. Aiden said he’s been dealing with Ester Hansen at County Services. Gives us someone to ask for.”

Trent started the car and pointed to the clock on the dash. 3:20 PM. “We have plenty of time to make it over there. They probably close at five.”

“Let’s do it.”

As Trent drove away, Amanda looked at Sean and Tara’s house. She wished she could just storm inside the place, snatch Tara, and get her to see the light. But her efforts would likely be useless. She just wished the same couldn’t be said for their list of potential suspects. Surely, their killer had to be on there somewhere.

Twenty-Two

It was three thirty when Trent pulled into the lot for County Services. The sign posted on the door confirmed they closed at five, but that left Amanda and Trent plenty of time to ask the questions they needed.

The woman at the front desk greeted them as she shuffled a stack of papers from one side of her desk to the other.

“Hi.” Amanda offered a kind smile and pulled her badge. “I’m Detective Steele, and this is Detective Stenson with the Prince William County PD. We’d like to speak with Ester Hansen if she’s in.”

“Ah, that’s me, but I’m not sure why the police would want to speak with me.”

“Your name came up during an investigation. There was a house fire in east Dumfries yesterday morning, and a body was found inside the home. You might have heard about it on the local news.” Amanda hated giving any glory to the media, but it was an easy way to establish a foundation for the conversation.

“Yeah, I did.” Ester’s shoulders sagged, and her face went blank. “Why are you interested in me?”

“Woodbridge Bank owned the property and has informed us that they were waiting for approval from this office before they could put the place on the market. You’re the bank’s contact.”

“What’s the address?” Ester poised her fingers over her keyboard.

“Five thirty-two Bill Drive.”

“Oh, I’m familiar with that address.” She sank back in her chair. “Let me guess. It was Aiden Adkins who sent you.”

“He gave us your name.”

“Mr. Adkins… He’s, um, persistent, always asserting himself and applying pressure on me to get things moving faster. He doesn’t seem to grasp there’s a procedure and a queue.”

Amanda could imagine Aiden being that way, but she couldn’t blame the man with the way he’d painted management hanging over his head. “We’re just trying to determine everyone who may have been aware the property was sitting empty. I assume you were?”

“Yes, of course, but…” Ester’s voice trickled off into nothingness.

Amanda didn’t see anything in Ester’s demeanor that spoke to her being a heartless killer who took out a teenage girl. Her hands were also small and feminine, not large enough to match the bruising on Doe’s neck. “Who goes out and does the inspections? Is it someone within this office?”

“No, third parties are used.”

“Who was assigned to inspect the work done at five thirty-two Bill Drive?”

“I might be able to find out.”

“Might?” Amanda pressed.

“Well, depending on how far out it is