Trent was happy to see Amanda had made it safely past the picketing outside. He’d been watching it grow since he’d arrived at seven. The plan had been to meet at eight, but he didn’t have anything else productive to do, so he set out for an early start. He had driven past his aunt’s house on the way in and talked himself into backing away again. He’d funnel his energy into rescuing Leanne and Gracie, as if that would redeem him—if only to his own conscience.
Amanda entered his cubicle and held out a tray with two coffees. “One’s for you.”
He hit pause and wasted no time plucking one for himself. “Thank you.”
“Don’t mention it.” She pointed to his screen. “Early start?”
“Yeah. Figured what the heck.”
“The video from this past Tuesday?”
“That’s right. Making a list of vehicles. We’ll compare later, hopefully find a lead in this mess somewhere.” He ruffled the edge of his notepad on which he’d written all the vehicle information.
She tore the top on her lid back and took a draw. From the looks of it, a long one, and he followed her lead. He’d drunk one at home, another at his desk, but what the heck? He’d drink all the caffeine he got his hands on today.
“You find any that are a match yet?” She held her coffee in front of her chest, as if it were a defensive barrier warding off bad news.
“Nothing yet. But I’m just up to nine thirty in the morning. I haven’t gotten that far.” Maybe if he hadn’t wasted time outside his aunt’s place torturing himself, he would have been further along.
She wheeled her chair next to his. “All right. We keep going.”
He started the video, and he stopped it when the timestamp in the bottom read 10:15 AM. “That two-tone blue truck right there looks familiar to me.” He consulted the list and tapped a finger on the page. “Same plate. It was on the video from two Tuesdays ago about the same time too.” He looked closer at the screen. “You can make out one figure. I’d guess male.”
“All right, but let’s not get too ahead of ourselves. Where does he park each time?”
He let the video play, and the truck went right, leaving the camera’s view. Next, he brought up the feed from two Tuesdays ago and forwarded to the time he’d indexed on his notepad. “Heading in the same direction, to the end of the plaza. We can only assume he parks down there.”
“Huh. All right, so for at least two Tuesdays in a row, that truck pulls into the lot around ten fifteen.”
“A standing appointment? There’s a hair salon there, but it’s also where the doctor’s clinic is located. Seeing as he’s not an elderly woman trying to fill his social calendar…” He latched his gaze with hers.
“He’s going to the clinic. That’s where he might have run into Jill and Charlotte Archer.”
“Or he met them before that?” Trent shrugged. “We’ve already said the man leaving with the Reillys could be the one outside the school talking with Jill.”
“Right, so what was he doing there?” She waved a hand of dismissal. “We can fill all the pieces in later. Let’s bring up his plate info, get a name.”
She didn’t need to ask him twice. He typed as fast as his fingers would cooperate. “Plate is registered to a Cheryl Brock of Gainesville. That’s rural.” It was a town about fifty minutes north of Woodbridge, but it was still part of Prince William County.
“A woman? You’re sure? We’d pegged our killer as a man. The size of handspan, finger length, width, the partial work boot print near the Archers’ grave all point to our killer being a man.” Amanda’s phone rang, and Trent jumped.
“Detective Steele,” she answered. “Oh, yeah? Okay. Good to know. Trent and I just got our best lead yet.” She ended the call but held on to her phone, remained speechless.
“Who was that?”
“CSI Blair. She got a call back from the manufacturer of those stuffed dolls.”
“On a Saturday? Hey, not that I’m complaining, just somewhat surprised.”
“They distribute those specific dolls to dollar stores. One of these is One Hundred Pennies in Woodbridge.”
“We might be able to place this Cheryl Brock at the store. We’ll try to confirm that. Ask them about her.” His mind was spinning in a million directions.
She held up her hand and shook her head. “We have a man walking away with the Reillys, and a man in the truck with plates registered to a woman. We hit the address, feel it out, see if Leanne and Gracie are there.”
“We also discussed a partnership,” Trent volleyed back. “A man—who is behind the truck’s wheel—picks up the women and their daughters, murders them. But what’s not to say the woman, Cheryl Brock, helps take care of them for a time and that she also gets them the toys?”
“But why? For what purpose?” Amanda shook her head and glanced up at the ceiling, frustrated. “And maybe we’re latching on to the wrong vehicle? Can we forward until it leaves the lot this past Tuesday? We could see, for instance, if two more figures are with him—namely Leanne and Gracie Reilly.”
Trent forwarded the video at slow motion. The Ford F150 was leaving the lot at 11:40 AM. He froze the image.
“Crap. There’s no way we can tell anything from this. Not with that dark tint.”
“Do we know when the truck left two Tuesdays ago?”
Trent referred to his handwritten list. “Unfortunately not. It must be sometime the next day.”
“Footage we don’t have. Sergeant Graves might want more before we move in, even to have a casual conversation with this woman. And I’m back to that… a woman? Is she married?”
He brought up a background on Cheryl Brock. “Uh-huh. Spouse’s name is Joshua Brock. He might have been driving her truck. But are they working at this together? Does she know what he’s done?”
“Wouldn’t be the first time a husband and wife abducted and killed. Is there any record on him?”
Trent did the background pull and seconds later had their answer. “None.”
“Do they have a child? Any records to that effect?”
“One second… Ah, yeah, a daughter. Holly.” He clicked on Joshua’s DMV photo. “Holy shit.”
“Say that again.”
They were looking at the man’s face from the Dumfries Elementary video. He was also likely the same man who had walked off with Leanne and Gracie Reilly.
“We need to talk to the sarge and move on this immediately.” Trent might receive that redemption he longed for after all.