Trent might have been pushing the gas harder than normal, but he was pissed. His mind kept kicking out the same scenario, regardless of Amanda’s repeated caution to keep an open mind. If he heard that admonition one more time, he might snap. As it was, he still quaked from her touch—and not in a good way. She’d tried to calm him down, but he was entitled to feel how he felt. Damn it.
There were the bruises, the prolonged infliction of the injuries; it had to be cumulative domestic abuse. Jill and Charlotte were reported missing last week, so presumably they hadn’t been gone for weeks—the age of some of the bruising. And how many more scars were hidden beneath the woman’s clothing? As a husband and father, positions that garnered trust, that man should have provided comfort, solace, and protection for his family. Instead, they were now dead.
He called his aunt’s number as he drove. The call was answered, but there was silence.
Trent jumped in. “Aunt Gert—”
An automated voice struck his ears. “You have reached a number that has been disconnected.”
He came close to throwing his phone through the windshield. The bastard had truly gone above with this—having his aunt sever the line that allowed her family to reach out to her. Things had gone from bad to worse. She used to be the life of the party but had retreated into a wallflower. The vibrant colors she used to wear became tans and shades of gray, black, and white. Then one day she stopped cheerleading family reunions and turned into the person who made shallow excuses to avoid them.
He pulled into the lot for Central and parked, coming to such an aggressive stop the nose of the car dipped down, then shot up.
Amanda parked in the spot next to him. He didn’t want to talk about his aunt and hoped she’d leave the topic alone.
She loaded into the passenger seat and tossed out an awkward smile. “Someone has a lead foot.”
“Looks to me like you kept up all right.”
“Got me there.”
He waited for her door to shut before he reversed out of the spot.
“We need to talk.”
“Not more about keeping an open mind. Please.”
“I was going say we need to discuss more of what we saw on scene.” Her voice was harsh, a touch raw.
He gestured for her to proceed.
“The way they were buried together, in the manner they were, suggests they were posed. The fact he included the child’s stuffed toy and had the girl hugging her mother tells me there might be some remorse.”
“The killer may have experienced regret, but that’s of little consequence. Jill and Charlotte Archer are dead.” Saying their names, he realized he may have been too emotionally vested. He softened his voice and volunteered, “I can do this, Amanda… Stay objective.”
“I know you can.”
Something about her confidence and the way she was watching him, had his tough front disintegrating further. He had proven himself to her before when a case touched close to home, and she’d believed in him then before she even had a reason to. A part of him would love to open up about his aunt and how he felt a responsibility toward her. It wasn’t his fault she’d married Don, but his job was to protect and serve the community. He’d failed his own flesh and blood. What did that say about him?
But it wasn’t like he hadn’t tried to reach his aunt, to help her see. How often, though, can a person be shut out before they raise their hands and walk away? And maybe that’s what he should do—once and for all. Regardless, for now that was his only choice. This investigation deserved his full attention.
Trent led the way into the station for the Dumfries PD. He found Officer Ben Fuller at the front desk. A few years ago, it would have been Trent seated there.
“Trent Stenson? Long time no see. Guess you’re too big for us now.” Ben had started a few months before Trent transferred to the PWCPD. He was the oldest in his class at the academy, going through the training in his late twenties, but he spoke like he was fifty-something.
“Hey, Ben. Is Officer Archer in?” Trent cut to the point.
“Think you just caught him. Want me to get him for you?”
“Please. Tell him it’s Detective Stenson and Detective Steele.” Trent’s insides were quaking with rage, just thinking Roy might have killed his family, but he wanted to prove Amanda had every reason to put faith in him. He’d pull himself back from the ledge and stop projecting his personal life onto the case. This wasn’t about his aunt.
“Detective Steele. Nice to meet ya.” Ben shook Amanda’s hand.
“Ben?” Trent prompted, remembering the man was chatty.
“Ah, yeah, sure. Roy. Say, this have anything to do with his wife and daughter? Awful tragic they went missing.”
“It’s best we speak with him.”
Ben got up from his post and headed down a hall, calling out, “Roy.”
“What is it? I’m just about to head out.” Gruff.
“I know, but you’ve got visitors.”
There was a distinct mumble and groan. “Who?”
“Detectives Stenson and Steele. I think it’s about your wife and daughter.” The latter part was spoken lowly.
Silence was the immediate response followed by, “Send ’em back.”
Ben called out for Trent, and he and Amanda followed his voice to a doorway. Ben gestured inside and left for the front.
This room housed a few computer stations for officers to key their reports at the end of their shift. Roy Archer was leaned back in a desk chair, hands clasped across his lap, and lightly swiveling. His presence at this time of day would be because he hadn’t finished up before heading home last night. Not impressive cop work.
“You find Jill and Charlotte?”
“Let’s take this to the conference room.” Trent led the way, familiar with the blueprint of the building from his years of working there.
Once inside, he rolled out a chair for Roy and said, “Sit.”
Roy looked at him with dead eyes, as if no soul existed behind them.
Amanda closed the door and sat next to Roy, leaving Trent to pick a spot farther away. A blessing. He didn’t think he’d handle being close to the man; there was just something about him. First, Trent’s suspicions, but also the rudeness he had demonstrated toward Ben.
“So you found them?”
Trent’s eyes landed on the man’s knuckles. Scraped and scuffed.
“Hello?” Roy waved a hand in front of Trent’s face.
Now if Trent were closer, he’d twist his wrist. Instead, he took a calming breath.
“Where are they?” Roy raised his brows, impatient.
“They’re both dead.” Sadness welled up for Jill and Charlotte, but he was without empathy for Roy. He had that same overbearing energy as the man his aunt had married.
“We’re sorry for your loss,” Amanda interjected.
“Oh.” Roy rubbed his face. “Ah, where did you find them?”
“Most people also want to know how,” Trent said drily.
Amanda shot him a side-glance and answered Roy’s question. “In Prince Park. They were buried together in a shallow grave.”
Roy’s mouth fell open.
Trent resisted the urge to ask what part of Amanda’s statement came as a surprise, in the vein of objectivity.
“Are you familiar with the park, Mr. Archer?” Amanda asked.
“I’d actually prefer you both call me Officer Archer.”
“Sure…”
“Prince Park is where Jill often took Charlotte.”
“When was the last time you saw them?” Trent would try to keep his mind open. Everything within him screamed Roy was a piece of shit, but mother and daughter could have been abducted by a killer.
“I filed a missing person report on Friday.”
“Yes, and that’s what led us here,” Trent volleyed back. “Not an answer to my question, though.”
“It wasn’t ID?” Still detouring.
“Your wife and daughter weren’t found with any,” Amanda said. “No phone or purse either.”
“Huh.”
“Did she have a cell phone? A purse?” Amanda asked.
“Yep. Any sign of her car?”
Amanda glanced at Trent, back to Roy. “What vehicle did she have?”
“A white Chevy Malibu. I have an APB issued for it.”
An all-points bulletin.
“And I haven’t been able to get through on her phone since last Tuesday.”
“Last time you saw them?” Trent asked.
“Same. Last Tuesday.” Roy sat back in his chair, his elbows resting on the armrests like he was having a casual conversation. “I came home from work, and they were both gone. No note or anything. I figured maybe she’d left me.”
“But you filed the report on Friday,” Trent said.
“Uh-huh, but you should know twenty-four to forty-eight hours must pass, unless there’s unmistakable proof of foul play.”
Trent would just keep his mouth shut. But Rideout figured they died days ago. What was to say Roy didn’t kill them, then report them missing? His claim that he hadn’t seen them since Tuesday could be a lie.
“Why did you assume she’d left if there was no note? Were there problems in the marriage?” Amanda put it all so calmly, not a feat Trent could have pulled off.
“Ah, just like any other married couple, we had disagreements. Sure.”
“That all? Disagreements? Is that why there are bruises on her body telling us she was beaten for weeks?” Trent was impressed he remained in his chair and hadn’t yet throttled Roy.
Roy stared into Trent’s eyes, challenging him. “What are you saying, Detective?”
He hadn’t denied the allegation; he’d deflected. Again. “I’m quite sure you know.” Trent pointed to the man’s abraded knuckles. “What happened there?”
“I got into a scuffle with someone.”
Trent clenched his jaw. Roy phrased it as if he had been in a fight with another man.
“Why are you looking at me like that?”
With utter disgust? Somehow Trent managed to keep that thought internal.
“But I know the spouse is always the prime suspect. Is that it?”
“Please, Officer Archer,” Amanda said, stepping in as a mediator, “we’re just trying to figure out what happened.”
“How the hell should I know?”
“Right. You returned home, saw they were gone. Then what?” Amanda asked, losing patience.
“I tried calling her, but it went straight to voicemail. It has in the times I’ve tried since Tuesday too.”
“Was it common for your wife to turn her phone off?” Amanda asked.
“I usually got through.”
If Roy was telling the truth that left the potential for an unknown third party to intercept. “You mentioned problems in your marriage…” Trent coughed to clear his throat. “Did you suspect she was having an affair?”
“Guess it’s possible. She was a pretty woman.”
Trent didn’t imagine Roy would tolerate a cheating wife. “We’ll need to know all your movements from last Tuesday until now.”
“I’m a fellow officer of the law.”
“Even if it’s to rule you out. But as you said, the spouse, partner, significant other is always the first suspect,” Amanda served, using his earlier words against him.
Roy threw his hands up and shook his head. “While you’re riding me, their killer is out there.”
Trent wasn’t ready to let go of a neat and tidy close to this case that would see Roy Archer behind bars. After all, the timing of their disappearance and the bruising heavily implied Roy beat his wife. But what if that was his greatest sin? What if there was far more to this investigation than first met the eye?