Stolen Daughters by Carolyn Arnold (e ink ebook reader .TXT) 📕

Isabelle Donnelly, whom she rather liked, but another CSI she knew was to the left of the counter. Amanda smiled and lifted her index finger to the receptionist and took one step toward CSI Emma Blair just as she withdrew from an embrace with her son—the fireman, Spencer Blair.

Amanda’s instinct was to glance away—even walk away—like she’d interrupted an intimate moment between the two of them simply by being there. Instead, she signaled to the CSI that she was coming over, but Amanda’s legs felt weighed down as she started to walk. Both Blairs were leveling glares and scowls at her. She was tempted to just conclude the family was miserable, but she’d seen them be nice to other people. It would seem their hostility was aimed at her. Not that she had a clue as to why.

“Hello,” Amanda said, as an inclusive greeting for the two of them.

“Detective Steele,” Emma said coolly. “What can I do for you?” Given the way she’d delivered the question, whatever would come from Amanda’s mouth was presumed an imposition.

Spencer had yet to say anything; he just kept his gaze fixed on her.

“Detective?” Emma prompted.

“I need you to analyze something for me.” Amanda extended the note, which she had sealed in a plastic evidence bag taken from the trunk of her car. Before putting it in there, she had taken photographs with her phone just to have on her person if she ever wanted to refer back to it. Not that she imagined forgetting the message anytime soon.

Emma turned to her son. “Guess I have to get to work.”

“Have a good one, Mom.” Spencer left, but not without first firing off another glare missile in Amanda’s direction.

Emma snatched the bag. “What is it? Which case is it associated with?”

“I believe it’s related to the arson and murder at five thirty-two Bill Drive.”

Emma narrowed her eyes. “You believe? I’m going to need more than that to facilitate this request, Detective.”

Amanda clenched her jaw. She should have known she could hit a wall with the request. She hadn’t even informed Malone, fearing the news would somehow result in her getting benched from the case. But of all the people to come clean to about the note first, it was Emma Blair?

“I found it at my daughter’s grave,” she said softly, just hating that whoever had left it had the nerve to go there. Same team? Utter crap. “You’ll need to eliminate my prints as I didn’t think to put gloves on before handling it. But you’ll see it was addressed—”

“To you.” Emma looked up from the envelope.

“Uh-huh. I think—and this might be a stretch—that it’s from the person who killed Jane Doe.”

“What does it say inside?”

“‘We’re on the same team. Be grateful that your angel will always stay innocent.’” Recited verbatim.

“Huh.” Emma chewed her bottom lip, met Amanda’s gaze. “I’ll see what I can find, but no promises.”

“All I ask… Except…” Amanda extended another sealed evidence bag. This one included the card taken from the memorial. She’d gone past the station and got it before heading out here. “I was also hoping you could test this for prints and DNA, see if it gets you anywhere.”

Emma looked down at the bag but made no move to take it. Amanda practically stuffed it into her hands.

“Where did this one come from?”

Amanda told her.

“Again, I’ll see what I can do.”

“Thank you.” Amanda was about to turn and leave, but she was drawn to say something else. Maybe if she took a stab at showing an interest in the CSI’s personal life, it would improve their working relationship. She smiled and said, “I just met Spencer yesterday. I didn’t know you had a son.”

Emma’s face hardened to granite. Even the light that had been in her eyes flickered off. Her posture stiffened. “Well, it’s not really like we socialize, Detective, so why would you know?”

Amanda stood frozen for a few seconds, trying to make sense of the CSI’s harsh response. Eventually, when she could get her mouth to open, she said, “Suppose that’s true.” With that, she left, now chewing on another mystery but with a little insight. Given the shut-off body language, she’d wager whatever the CSI had against her was personal, but Amanda had no idea what that could be.

Sixteen

The woman at the front counter of Woodbridge Bank directed Amanda and Trent to a grouping of chairs in the middle of the lobby. Amanda sat in one that put her back to the line of tellers and had her facing the front doors.

Offices lined each side of the room. Aiden Adkins had his to Amanda’s left. Currently his door was shut, but she could see through a window that a fifty-something man was in there on the phone— Oh, he was just hanging up.

The door opened, and he exited, scanned the space, and settled his gaze on Amanda and Trent. She was already to her feet when he reached them.

Aiden held out his hand to her. “Detective…?”

She took his hand. “Detectives Steele and Stenson. You’re Aiden Adkins?”

“That’s me.” He shook Trent’s hand, too, then said, “Come, let’s talk in private.” He took them to his office and closed the door behind them.

Amanda and Trent sat in chairs facing his desk.

“Looks like you’re a busy man.” She gestured to a heap of paperwork in a tray.

“Even more now with the fire.” Aiden sighed deeply and raked a hand through his hair.

“Insurance claims?” Trent queried.

Aiden clasped his hands on his desk and leaned toward them. “The bank insured it, so really it’s just out of one pot and into another. Any external insurance companies wouldn’t touch the property.”

Amanda angled her head. “Why’s that? People had been living in it…”

“Sure, but at the time they insured it, the structure had been sound.”

“That changed?”

He nodded. “It wasn’t up to code. Mr. Burke, that’s the man who we reclaimed the property from, had added a bathroom under the stairs without a permit—not that he would have gotten one.”

“Is that why the