Stolen Daughters Carolyn Arnold (primary phonics books TXT) 📖

“Works for me.”

“I’ve got my car here, so I’ll meet you back there, but I may be a little delayed. I’m dying for a coffee and something to eat. Want me to grab you anything?”

Trent gave her his order and went on his way, leaving her with her thoughts, which were focused on Jane Doe. Someone out there was probably missing their daughter, but she’d been stolen from them, her life wiped out before it really began. Amanda would do everything in her power to make the person responsible for that pay.

Four

It was going on two in the afternoon when Amanda stopped at Hannah’s Diner on the way out of Dumfries. She and Trent had spent more time on site than she would have guessed. No wonder her stomach was growling. While Hannah’s had tasty food, Amanda mostly gravitated there for the coffee, which was the best, bar none, that Amanda had ever tasted.

The place was owned by May Byrd and named after her daughter, Hannah—the same Hannah who was Amanda’s mother’s defense attorney.

Amanda went inside and found May standing behind the counter. She was in her sixties but still worked as a server. Today, empathy flooded her facial features. “Hey, sweetheart. How ya holdin’ up?”

Amanda knew how to read May. The question was in reference to the situation with Amanda’s mother. “We’ll get through this.” She spoke with far more confidence than she felt. After all, her mother was guilty despite her plea, and Amanda feared some judge would want to make an example out of her.

May put a hand on Amanda’s forearm. “I have no doubt ya will. You Steeles are strong, but you’ve had to deal with an awful lot in your lives.”

“I’m not going to argue with that.”

“Hannah doesn’t tell me any details on account of attorney-client privilege, but I get the impression there’s reason to hold out some hope.” May leaned across the counter, peered into Amanda’s eyes. “Am I right?”

“Too soon to say, but Hannah’s working to build a solid defense to get a lighter sentence.” It was another topic that sent Amanda into a moral debate. The man who had driven drunk and killed her family got a measly five years in prison. Hannah was striving to get Amanda’s mother’s sentence down to fifteen years with parole in seven and a half. Thinking of her mother in prison for all that time was unbearable. To the victim’s sole surviving relative, it wouldn’t feel like enough. It was strange how perspective changed everything.

“Well, if my Hannah can sort something out, she will. I’m rooting for your mother, Mandy.” She straightened out and asked, “So what can I get ya?”

Amanda was relieved that the chitchat had ended. Talking about her mother’s crime just made it more real. She ordered two large black coffees, a ham and cheese on wholewheat for herself, and a chicken-salad sandwich on white bread for Trent.

As May prepared everything, Amanda lost herself in her thoughts. She used to hold out so much hope for the future, but life had taught her not to be so foolish.

A few minutes later, May was putting the wrapped sandwiches into a brown bag and shoving the coffee cups into a take-out tray.

“Thanks,” Amanda said and headed for the door.

A man was on his way in and backtracked to hold the door for her.

“Thanks,” she told him.

He didn’t say anything, and she continued to her car and got behind the wheel.

Once there, she unwrapped her sandwich and took a bite, letting her thoughts drift again. So often she’d just tell people she was doing fine. She’d put on a brave and confident front like she truly believed everything with her mother would work out okay. Of course, she’d face prison; it was just a question of how long.

Hannah planned to use Amanda’s dad’s character in her mother’s defense. Amanda wasn’t entirely sure if that would work. While she had faith in her father, she also knew that he wasn’t perfect and above reproach. Many years ago, rumors had circulated that called his integrity into question, but they likely had their origins in the murmurings of ungrateful underlings who wanted to smudge his name. But she couldn’t just dismiss everything that was whispered about him either. While she preferred to believe the best of her father, she also didn’t view him through rose-colored glasses.

She finished her sandwich and drove to Central deep in thought.

Five

Central was one of Prince William County PD’s three stations, and one of two located in Woodbridge. The Homicide Unit was housed at Central, along with some other specialized departments and administration.

Once inside, Amanda headed to the warren of cubicles where Homicide was located. She and Trent had their own office spaces next to each other. The dividers were high enough to afford some privacy and dampen sound, but low enough to talk over.

Homicide was currently down one detective. She glanced over at where Detective Bishop, a.k.a. Cud, used to sit and wondered who would take his place and what they’d be like. She typically played well with others—unless they were partnered with her. Trent had been the only one to stick for this long, and there were still days she was amazed at how he’d wormed his way in. But he’d shown loyalty on several occasions—even when the circumstances wouldn’t have made it easy.

She found Trent at his desk and handed him his coffee and sandwich.

“Thanks,” he said, his gaze taking in her cup, but otherwise empty hands. “You’re not eating?”

“I couldn’t wait. Have you pulled the property records on five thirty-two Bill Drive yet?” she asked, switching tracks from the mindless banter.

“Just about to.”

“Okay, good. I have a feeling a bank owns it, but just find out. If so, then get us someone to talk to.”

“Sure.”

“I’m going to follow up with the sergeant and see if he has an update on the status of the nine-one-one recording.” She set off down the hall toward Malone’s office. His door was shut,