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The timing sounded hinky, somehow convenient. Felicity’s original pitch had the victim killed by her boyfriend, who was jealous of her success. But she’d decided to change that two weeks ago for an unknown reason. Was there any correlation between fiction and real life?
“Amanda?” It was Trent, and he was looking at her over the low partition.
“Ah… yeah?”
“You look deep in thought.”
“I am, and you need to know why.”
“All right. But me first. You look like you have a lengthy update.”
“I think I do.”
“I was able to confirm that Felicity had cloud storage. The internet provider has requested a warrant to release access.”
“Which I would expect. You want to handle that?”
“Sure. After you tell me what you have.” He got up and joined her.
She leaned back in her chair and indicated the article on her screen. “I have a strong feeling this murdered intern case may have inspired Felicity’s latest project.” She shared the highlights she’d gleaned, and when she was finished, Trent’s mouth was gaped open.
“Sounds like you might have hit a bull’s-eye. How far do you want to pursue this?”
“I think it’s like we considered before. What if Felicity Kelley poked her nose into this case and got the attention of the killer in the process? Could still be Sheldon Lowe, might not be…”
“She really might have taken the whole armchair detective thing too far,” he said.
“I have a bad feeling she did. You get the paperwork for the warrant, and I’ll dig more into this case, starting with finding out who handled it fifteen years ago.”
“Sure.” He went back to his space.
Amanda looked up Naomi Chapman’s name in the PWCPD system and swore at her discovery.
Trent popped his head up. “Do tell.”
“The lead was Dennis Bishop.”
“Huh. Well, his name was bound to surface again at some point.” Trent returned to what he was doing.
At some point… She let out a puff of air. Dennis Bishop had left the PWCPD two years ago January—not by choice as much as the result of disciplinary action. He’d held back integral evidence in a murder investigation. When Amanda had uncovered that, she’d also found extenuating circumstances were at play. As a result, Dennis wasn’t held legally accountable, nor did the PD see fit to withdraw his pension, but he had walked away from his badge.
She still felt the burden of exposing his wrongdoing. And to see him would be like taking a time warp to another lifetime. She had changed so much since then. When Dennis had known her, five and a half years had passed after losing her husband and daughter and she was all-consumed by grief. And even though she had done the right thing by reporting Dennis, her purpose and drive back then were almost nonexistent.
She opened another screen and searched for Dennis Bishop’s information. She had no idea where he’d ended up after he left. For all she knew he could have moved to China.
His record came back and told her he was living in Lorton, Virginia. Lorton was a small town, a mere fifteen-minute drive from Woodbridge, with which she was very familiar. It was charming and idyllic and could be the backdrop for any Hallmark Christmas movie. Of all the places in the world, she wouldn’t have seen Dennis Bishop making his home there. Though, he did have a sister. It could be where she lived.
There was nothing listed for Dennis’s employment, and she wondered how he filled his days. The more she thought about speaking with him and seeing him, gunk from the past regurgitated. It had been around that time when she’d first uncovered an operating sex-trafficking ring in Prince William County.
But she might be able to avoid contacting Dennis. After all, his notes and evidence would be in storage. But they didn’t account for one thing. If Felicity based her latest project on this case, she wouldn’t have had access to all this. She would have gone directly to the source. In the least, Amanda needed to ask Dennis if he had spoken to Felicity Kelley. And, if so, what he may have told her.
She called the number on file for him, and the line rang several times. Just when she expected to land in voicemail, Dennis answered. She recognized his voice. “Dennis, it’s Amanda Steele.”
Silence stretched out as if it were elastic.
“How are you doing these days?” As soon as the question was out, she regretted asking. She had wanted to set the stage for a friendly conversation. Instead, she’d prepped the launch pad for confrontation. Not that his leaving the PWCPD had been her fault, but if she hadn’t exposed his past, he’d likely still be on the payroll.
“Just get to the point, Amanda. What do you want?”
