“Oh, my God. I officially have a headache.” She massaged her temple.
Another few hours passed with no forward progress. She might be better off directing her attention to the Pansy Shoppe, if for nothing but a change of pace.
“Steele, Stenson.” It was Malone headed their way, and she was surprised to see him here so late. But they were dealing with an ugly case. He was just outside her cubicle. “I heard back from the uniformed division sergeant. Our suspect and Ashley Lynch were at the Ritter Motel in Dumfries. Same trick. Adjoining rooms. Paid in cash.”
“Dumfries… Woodbridge,” she mulled over out loud. “He really is doing all he can to evade the sex-trafficking people.”
“And went from ordering one girl to two,” Trent pointed out. “Just another way to cover his tracks. They wouldn’t think it was the same person ordering the girls, even if the type was the same.”
“Uh-huh,” Malone said. “Obviously, the room at Ritter’s is no good to us for processing, with that being five nights ago.”
“That’s all? Feels much longer ago than that.” She rubbed her head again. Time to call in help. She took an ibuprofen from her desk drawer and swallowed it with a swig of water.
“Got a call from the CSIs who processed rooms at the Sunny Motel,” Malone went on. “The only forensic trace they deemed to be evidence was a palm print they lifted from the back door of room eight. But, before you get excited, there was no hit in the system.”
“Hardly even worth mentioning,” she mumbled, feeling extremely discouraged with the lack of progress on this case.
Malone snapped his jaw shut. There was anger in his eyes. “I believe in open communication, Detective. Along those lines, you should know video was collected from the Sunny Motel, and stills of both our murder suspect and the handler are being run through facial recognition programs.”
Hopefully, they were of better quality than the photo Amanda had sent of their suspect in the crowd across from 532 Bill Drive. The good news was that since they had the Devil’s picture now, there was no need for Crystal Foster to sit down with a police sketch artist. She could just start getting on with her life. But hearing about the stills also made her think of something else. “Can we expect to get a copy of the photo array that includes our prime suspect?” There would be one out there, as the officers would have used it when asking around at motels.
“I’ll make sure it gets to you.”
“And it probably wouldn’t hurt to get copies of the stills from the video.”
“I told CSI Blair to send those along.”
Amanda would be checking her email as soon as Malone left.
Malone nudged his head toward their desks. “What are you doing now?”
“Searching older, similar cases. And having no luck so far. I was actually just about to take a break from that and look into the Pansy Shoppe,” she said. “We know the van wasn’t theirs, but why would our suspect put their logo on his van? Maybe he’s pointing us there for some reason.”
“Could be. All right, carry on, but don’t spend the night here. Cut out no later than midnight. Neither of you are any good to me dead on your feet.”
Amanda glanced at the clock on the wall. 9:45 PM. After a couple of nights of little sleep, she’d happily go home and crawl into bed now. “You got it.”
“Just a word, Amanda, before I leave.” He motioned for her to follow him to his office.
He closed the door behind them. “You asked me if I’m all right lately. I’m not. And it’s not entirely to do with the LT.” He gestured to the chair across from his desk and dropped into his. “It’s come to my attention that you may have received correspondence from the killer early on in this case.”
Her heart thumped rapidly. This had to be about the note at the cemetery. She sat down. “I meant to tell you.”
“I don’t want to hear excuses, Amanda. I want you to talk to me. How can you expect me to help you if you don’t?”
“But…” She considered how to word what she had to say next. “I wasn’t needing your help. I didn’t even know what to make of it myself.”
“But you took it to CSI Blair to have it processed. You must have ‘made enough’ of it to do that.”
She felt her cheeks heat with the betrayal. She should have known that CSI Blair would say something to Malone. She thought back to his chilly demeanor, and it had started around the time of the second fire. Blair must have told him then, but Amanda asked anyway. “When did she tell you?”
“That doesn’t matter. You should have told me.” His tone was more hurt than anger, and it caused remorse to set in.
“Yeah, I should have. I’m sorry.”
“Don’t let things like that fall through the cracks again.”
“I just didn’t want you to take me off the case.”
He regarded her, his face all bunched up. “Don’t you know me at all?”
“You’re telling me you wouldn’t have? Hill’s breathing down your neck.”
“You let me handle her.” He was so tight-lipped he could have been a ventriloquist.
She’d apologize again if it didn’t make her feel like she was playing on repeat.
Malone got up with a heave. He reached the door and told her, “Night.”
“Night.”
She returned to her desk, her mind lingering on her conversation with Malone and his words, “You let me handle her.” He had always proven to her that he had her back, so why would she ever think that would change?
She sank into her chair and opened her email. There was one from CSI Blair with two attachments. The still of their suspect and one of the Devil. It was certainly understandable why he gave people the creeps.
She quickly sent the Devil’s photo and a note about the Sunny Motel, Second Treasures, and Ritter Motel in Dumfries over to Patty Glover.
Then she
