Trent told Amanda “good night,” but he wasn’t in a hurry to leave the station. He hated letting things sit overnight, but he had no choice when it came to going to the Archer residence. There was something else he could do though. He called Anne Arundel County Police, Roy’s old department, hoping to get some information.
Trent identified himself to the officer on desk duty, a woman named Alison.
“You said you’re with what PD?”
“Prince William County.”
“How can I help you, Detective?”
“I’m calling about a Roy Archer. He used to be an officer with you there.”
“Uh-huh, I know the name.” There was an obvious change in her tone—from light to heavy and loaded.
“Can I ask why he left the department?”
“I’m sorry, but I’m not at liberty to disclose that information.”
“But I’m sensing you knew him well. Is that right?”
“Yeah.”
He had a hunch but wasn’t sure how to broach it over the phone. It would have been difficult in person, but Trent suspected that Alison and Roy were acquainted biblically. “You were friends? Go through the academy together?”
“What’s this about?”
Trent should have thought ahead. Under pressure to come up with something his mind went blank. Any cover stories he came up with were riddled with holes. Until he landed on one. “I heard rumor he’s going to be my new partner. And if you could keep my call off the record, I’d appreciate it. I’m just trying to find out what kind of guy I’m going to be entrusting my life to.” He hadn’t said which unit he was in, but he had given Alison his name, rank, and PD. If she tried to verify his story, and this made its way to Graves, he could land in a heap of trouble. Calling might have been a bad idea.
“He’s… How do you say, snaky? Guess just like that. Wouldn’t trust him past seeing him, if you catch my drift.”
The hunch felt confirmed: Alison and Roy had an affair. “He is married from what I’ve heard,” Trent tossed out.
“He is, but I’m not sure it means anything to him.”
“Why? He sleeps around, or doesn’t treat his wife right?”
“He has a wife and daughter, and he has a temper.” Alison stopped there, but Trent sensed she had more to say on the subject.
“Do you think he ever used his temper on them?” Trent appreciated the need to tiptoe, but he also wanted to build such a strong case against Roy Archer, he’d never squirm free.
Silence.
“Did he beat them?” Trent asked after a few seconds. “To me that’s just not okay.”
“I shouldn’t be talking about him. Anything else, Detective?”
“No, that’s it. Thanks.” Trent hung up armed with more proof that Roy was a no-good sack of shit. But did that mean he was a murderer? Had he, like some psychopath, hugged his wife and daughter and then broken their necks?
He got up from his desk and headed to his Jeep. Graves was walking out behind him.
“You still here?” she said to him.
“Yeah, just…” He let it dangle. He didn’t have an excuse at the ready.
“I know this situation is rough.”
He scanned her eyes, had the feeling she wanted to insert another word besides rough. “It is. But we’ll get him. That’s what you said.”
“That we will.” Graves resumed walking toward her vehicle. “Night.”
“Night.” Trent got into his Wrangler and watched her leave the lot. He should go straight home but a voice in his head wouldn’t leave him alone about his aunt and her disconnected phone number. He should check on her. It would require a detour, but it might allow him to sleep better.
He put his vehicle into gear and headed for the last place his aunt had lived. With every mile he got closer, the gnawing grew in his gut. What if he showed up to find new people had moved in? Honestly, nothing would surprise him at this point. That bastard wanted so much to isolate his aunt, rip her away, it was surprising her phone hadn’t been disconnected years ago.
Or make that one year ago…
That was the last time he’d tried calling.
Lights were on inside the house when he pulled in front. The SUV in the driveway had plates registered to Don, which Trent knew from looking them up in the past. It would seem he was living here.
Trent’s impulse was to bang on the front door and demand to see his aunt.
But where would that lead? And would it cause her harm?
Trent gripped the steering wheel, grinding his palms against it. He needed to listen to his intuition that was telling him to leave because nothing good would come from knocking.
He just put his vehicle into drive when a woman crossed in front of the window. He kept his foot on the brake.
The silhouette was the right size and shape to belong to his aunt. An overwhelming urge to rip her from the place was almost impossible to ignore.
“She needs to want help,” he mumbled under his breath, repeating a mantra he’d said many times before about this situation. It was what allowed him to sleep at night.
Don stepped into view, and Trent slipped the gear back into park.
He prepared himself to act. Just one aggressive move toward his aunt, Trent would get out of his Jeep and pound the living daylights out of the guy.
His aunt and Don interacted, speaking, arms gesturing in a conversational manner. Nothing that spoke to anger. Shortly later, his aunt walked away and disappeared from sight.
He wanted to go after her, but his mantra was back. Instead of a soothing sentiment, a haunting reality. His aunt had made it clear the last time she’d spoken with Trent’s mom, her sister, that she was happy with Don and he took care of her. But for how long? Would there ever come a day when the abuse was taken too far? When there would be no chance of saving her?