Stolen Daughters Carolyn Arnold (primary phonics books TXT) 📖

even have been born into a home with doting parents she didn’t appreciate. Could have had a brother or sister who always came in second to her as well.

He clenched his hands at his sides, his gaze in the direction of his screen, but his focus was somewhere distant, his mind in the past. His vindictive sister was why he could kill without remorse. He saw her reflected in the eyes of the girls he strangled. Tonight, he wouldn’t waste one second feeling merciful toward anyone.

Fifty-Five

The call to Amanda’s phone had been untraceable. The front desk was managed by a mix of officers and civilians, but it had been one of the latter who told Malone that a man had dropped off the card with her. She was the one who had put it on Amanda’s desk. Still, a brazen move that the killer had showed his face in a police station.

Amanda kept repeating the words in the card like a chant. “Not the bad guy.” Finally, an epiphany struck. “Our killer doesn’t think he’s a bad person, hasn’t from the start. He sent me that note—the one at Lindsey’s grave—saying we’re on the same team. I lock up bad guys. He sees himself as being to that level with what he’s doing. He sees himself… as what?” She locked her gaze with Trent’s and snapped her fingers. “He sees himself as a victim. He suffered because of sex trafficking, and he pointed us to Randy Hart. I don’t think it was an act of self-preservation. There’s more to Hart. His background gave us nothing… google his name.”

Trent stepped in front of her to use her computer, brought up an internet browser, and entered Randy Hart. There were several hits.

“Narrow it down,” Amanda said. “Add the words ‘suspect’ and ‘sex trafficking.’”

Trent proceeded to do that, and she watched as articles popped up.

Arson Killed Young Woman.

Young Woman from House Fire Identified.

Arson Suspect Questioned & Released.

Prince William County—A Stalking Ground for Human Traffickers?

Trent said, “These results link to articles dating back seven years.”

“Pick the second one.” She jabbed a finger toward the screen, and Trent clicked on the link. He read, “‘The remains of a young woman were pulled from a house fire three weeks ago today.’”

“The article title alludes to the fact she was identified. Her name?”

Trent drew a finger down the screen. “Christina Ross of Haymarket, eighteen.”

Haymarket was a forty-five-minute drive northeast of Dumfries, with a population under two thousand, and still part of Prince William County.

Trent resumed looking at the article. “From what I can tell, Christina disappeared from a horse show when she was eleven.” He looked over his shoulder at her.

“She’d been kidnapped and held for seven years before her death.” Amanda clutched her stomach.

“And here’s her picture at age eleven.” Trent flicked a finger toward the screen.

“Even considering the age difference the resemblance to Ashley Lynch is still uncanny.”

“That’s one word for it. So what’s the killer doing? Targeting her lookalikes for some reason?”

She hitched her shoulders and nudged her head toward the monitor. “Does this article say anything about Randy Hart?” Sometimes Google produced results that didn’t include all the search words.

“Ah, let me see.” Trent scrolled down. “Actually, it’s not looking like it. Let me try another one.” He duplicated that page in a new internet tab and returned to the search results. He opened the “Suspect Questioned” piece.

Right there in the second paragraph was Randy Hart’s name. She read to herself and picked up that Hart had been questioned about his involvement in sex trafficking and the death of the young girl—Christina Ross. Suspicion was dropped when his alibi was confirmed. The house that had been set on fire was believed to have been a holding house—otherwise known as a weigh station—for trafficking victims. The property was registered to a numbered company that law enforcement had no luck in tracking down. Then another interesting tidbit … “It was an anonymous phone call that tipped off police about Hart,” she said, tingles running down her arms. “We need to find out who made that call.”

“Thought it says anonymous…”

“Yeah, nothing’s anonymous. But first, let’s find Christina’s family.”

He searched Obit Christina Ross. “She was laid to rest at Eagle Cemetery.”

“That’s where—” Amanda cleared her throat. “That’s where Kevin and Lindsey are buried. Continue,” she encouraged.

“Looks like she left behind her parents and a brother.”

“Bring up their backgrounds.”

“Just a minute…” Trent clicked away on the keyboard, then scribbled on a blank page of a notepad she had on her desk.

She was tapping her foot. All she could think about was Logan. She had to save him. There was no other option. “Trent?” she prompted.

“I’ve got their names. Just bringing up the individual backgrounds.” One filled in on the screen. “Christina’s father… it looks like he died five years ago.”

“What about the mother?”

Trent brought up her report. “Also deceased, just before Christmas last year.”

“Tell me about the brother.”

“Name’s Daniel Ross.” He typed on the keyboard. “He’s still alive. Twenty-eight. Currently lives in Dumfries. He would have only been fourteen when his sister was taken.”

“Young enough to be greatly impacted. Let’s take a look at his photo.”

Trent clicked on it, then sat back. “Look familiar?”

“The mystery man’s ID solved.”

“Yep. Meet Daniel Ross, our killer. He could have read the articles on Randy Hart and felt there was an injustice. That could be why he pointed us to Hart.”

“Not sure about that. It’s like he’s killed his sister repeatedly through the girls he targets. If he’s directing our attention to Hart, is he also trying to avenge her death? Brandon said our killer could have murdered before. Maybe he didn’t like his parents either. I want to know how they died and if their deaths were suspicious.”

Trent reached for the phone. She held out a hand to stop him.

“Tell me more about Daniel Ross. Where does he work?”

Trent went to the employment section of the report. “He’s an estimator with Star Properties.”

“Where did Woodbridge Bank’s estimator work?”

Trent did a quick search.