“We can’t dismiss the possibility, though it doesn’t make much sense he’d want to draw attention to himself in such a blatant manner. It’s a lead we need to follow, but it seems too easy.”
“I get that. Doesn’t make much sense either why our killer would murder a woman to silence her, then drive around in a van with lettering on the side.”
“Exactly. And to park lengthwise… it was like he wanted someone to see the lettering on the van. I’m going to get officers over to the Pansy Shoppe to make the inquiries. We’ll also need to check if the interviews are in yet from canvassing officers in the neighborhood of the second fire. Maybe someone mentioned the van or, even better, noticed the license plate.”
“Good idea.”
She pulled her phone out and made a call to Malone. He sounded cool again. She was driving herself crazy trying to figure out if it had to do with her or just the case. She put some distance between herself and Trent and turned her back on him. “Are you upset with me for some reason?”
There was silence, but the line felt electrically charged.
“You are,” she concluded.
“Don’t want to talk about it now, but we will. Why did you call?”
She filled him in on their conversation with Janet Mills, ending with the Pansy Shoppe and the van. “Could you have officers ask if they have a white GMC van in their fleet. Then, if they do, ask if it had any business being near Clear Mountain Circle Sunday morning, or near Ms. Mills’s home Saturday night.”
“Sure.”
“Oh, and one other thing, could you get officers reviewing the interviews from the residents on Clear Mountain Circle? Trent and I saw the van a couple of blocks over from eight sixteen. I’d like to know if anyone commented on seeing a white van in the area, maybe parked or lingering nearby. Someone might have even seen a license plate.”
“Consider that done too.”
“Thanks.”
Malone hung up, and Amanda turned to Trent.
“Malone’s getting officers on everything we just talked about, including the interviews. That frees us up to take a look around. We’ll start there.” She pointed to the insurance company and headed over. It only took a few minutes to dash the hope that a surveillance camera could have captured their killer. She stood back, her hands on her hips, and looked around. “All right, time for a walk. If we’re lucky we’ll figure out where the man and the girls came from.” She retraced the direction from which Janet said the trio had originated. Just more houses, much like Janet’s, for a few blocks.
She was about to say something to Trent when she saw through the backyard of a corner lot on her right. It was banked by a chain-link fence, and on the other side was a two-story building. The backside of a motel, if Amanda remembered correctly. She could vaguely recall the roadside sign but couldn’t pin down the name.
Working on the assumption that the two new victims had also been caught up in sex trafficking, a motel could make sense. The girls could have been delivered to the motel, and then the killer had taken them from there.
“Come with me.” She picked up her speed and ducked up the side street toward the motel. With each step, she felt like they were getting that much closer to their killer.
Forty-Seven
Amanda could have been seeing things where there was nothing to see, a link, a connection, and tugging at loose threads with no consequence. But she had to follow her gut. Her father had taught her that.
Trent was tagging along behind her. Her focus was on the motel. It looked like every second room had a rear exit. She walked to the front of the place and saw the sign.
Sunny Motel. All in its bright-yellow glory, but it brought the past hurtling back. Sunny Motel had been one of the first dive motels where she’d had a one-night stand.
She went into the lobby and found a forty-something man sitting with his legs crossed and reading a newspaper behind a counter. He set it down, uncrossed his legs, and leaned forward. “Hourly or for the night?” He drew his half-mast, lazy eyes from Amanda over to Trent.
Trent held up his badge, beating her to doing the same thing by a few seconds. “Prince William County PD, Homicide,” he said.
“Detectives Steele and Stenson,” Amanda added. “We have some questions about a guest who might have rented a room Saturday night.”
“I can’t answer those type of questions without a warrant.” He picked up his paper.
“Maybe you could tell us if you saw this man before.” She brought up the picture of their mystery man on her phone and held it toward him. She felt fine about showing this to the clerk, as she was just making a simple inquiry at this point.
Time ticked off. Slowly, the paper was lowered again. He rolled closer to the counter and squinted at the screen. “Tom Cruise?” Only one of his eyebrows arched up.
“Someone who looks like him.”
“Tom Cruise’s doppelgänger is wanted by the police?” His eyes sparkled, and he chuckled. “Now I’ve heard everything.”