Stolen Daughters Carolyn Arnold (primary phonics books TXT) 📖

heads-up that a police sketch artist might become necessary and gave them the very basics, saying that Crystal might be able to help the police. I recommended to the Fosters that they keep a close eye on Crystal for the next while I also called Detective Robbins to notify Lynch’s family.”

“Yeah, it seems we have no doubt it was Ashley Lynch now. But how did the Fosters handle everything?”

“About as well as can be expected. They just want to shelter their daughter now that she’s back, and I can’t blame them.”

“Maybe it won’t come to needing a sketch artist, but it would be nice to make a dent in this ring.”

“You could say that again.” Her gaze caught on an incoming email. It was from CSI Blair, subject: Graveyard & Memorial Notes.

Amanda opened it and read. The card from the memorial didn’t have any useable evidence on it, but they knew its origin now. The note found at Lindsey’s grave, along with the envelope, were clean of prints except for Amanda’s. Blair said if they found a printer, she could confirm if it was the one used to print the label and message. She might as well have said “go find the needle in the haystack.” The envelope itself had been a peel-and-stick, so no saliva mixed with the glue. Blair also said that she had a look at the photo Amanda had sent of the mystery man and could tell immediately that it wasn’t of high-enough quality to run through facial recognition. Just one more dead end in trying to get the name for Tom Cruise’s lookalike. She recapped everything for Trent.

“It was almost too much to hope for something,” he said. “Just like trying to read this killer’s mind is proving impossible.”

“Challenging, sure, but not impossible.”

“If we think of him as being mission-oriented, why these girls who are already victims? It’s not like he’s really cleaning up the world. If he wants to do that then he should kill the guy with the devil’s eyes.” Trent was getting himself worked up, but Amanda could empathize. It was frustrating not knowing exactly what was motivating their killer—or how to stop him from murdering more people. Trent added, “Our killer’s actually targeting victims, and I’m not sure what to make of that.”

“Maybe we should worry less about motive, and just follow the clues. Let’s revisit the interviews conducted with people from the crowd. And maybe the ones from the door-to-door canvassing are in now too.”

“Detective Steele!” Malone was rushing toward her, and he rarely moved fast.

She got to her feet, sensing there was real trouble. “What is it?”

“Got a lead. A good one.”

She’d woken him up last night to fill him in on Crystal, how that went down, the man with the black eyes, and the as-of-yet unidentified man in the photo. “Let’s have it.”

“A lady here in Woodbridge called the tip line. She saw a man with two young women near her home on Saturday night. Said it looked like he forced them into the back of a van.”

“Could be the same man and women from the Clear Mountain Circle crime scene. Trent and I will check it out.”

Forty-Six

Janet Mills welcomed Amanda and Trent inside her house and told them to get comfortable in the dining room while she put on the kettle for tea. She was in her early sixties with a rotund body and a pleasant smile, though it came quickly and disappeared just as fast.

Amanda and Trent were seated at her dining table while the woman walked around, getting mugs from the cupboards and milk and sugar. It would have been nice to turn down the tea and crank up the urgency of their visit, but Amanda had the sense that, with a woman like Janet, hastiness would just clam her up. She was talking to the cops because she wanted to help, but in return, she expected respect.

“We just need to wait for it to steep.” Janet poured the boiled water into an actual teapot and set it on the table. As much as Amanda’s family loved tea, they were good with a bag in a cup.

Janet sat down, smoothing out the front of her yellow, floral-patterned dress as she did so. She’d apparently put some effort into beautifying herself for their visit. Her gray hair was bobby-pinned in tight pinwheels against her scalp. She had on red lipstick, which was half worn off due to her dry lips, and some color was outside the lines.

“Thank you for calling in about what you saw, Ms. Mills,” Amanda started, and had her mouth open to continue when Janet proceeded to talk.

“Of course, dear. It’s the least I could do after hearing about those two dead girls in the fire.” She tsked and shook her head.

“You said that you saw a man with two young women getting into the van Saturday night?” Trent asked, leaning forward, his notepad nearby.

Janet slowly drew her eyes from Amanda to Trent. “I did, and I just got the feeling that something wasn’t right. He forced them into that van, I tell you.”

“Actually, before we get to the details of what you saw, what time was this?” Amanda asked, passing a soft glance at Trent.

“It was somewhere around eleven thirty.”

Justin Cooper said that he saw the man and women around midnight, so that could fit. They would have had to drive from Woodbridge to Dumfries, park, and go from there. “Okay, so you saw them around eleven thirty… Did you see where they came from before getting to the van?”

“They came from that way.” Janet pointed toward the front window, which was visible from where they were, and crooked her finger to the right.

Janet’s house was in an area that was mixed residential and commercial. “Great. Did you see them coming out of a house or another building?”

“No, I’d remember that.”

“Did you ever see them before?” Trent interjected.

“I don’t think so. Now, if you look out my front window—” she gestured in