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She nodded, but said into her phone, “Why did Katherine leave the NYPD?”
“She talked about a fresh start, and within a year of her mother’s murder gave her resignation. Why she chose small-town Virginia, I don’t know, but she seemed in a hurry to leave.”
Yet another dig at the county.
He added, “I was sad to see her go. As I said, good cop.”
Amanda was humble enough to admit when she was wrong. Her first impression that the lieutenant didn’t care had missed the mark. “So as far as you know, Katherine wasn’t scared of anyone?”
“No way. Katherine’s fearless, or she was when I knew her.”
Is he implying small-town living has made her soft? “Well, thank you for taking the time to talk to me.”
“Don’t mention it. I will pray that you find her all right, and it’s awfully sad about that teen.”
“Thank you.” Amanda ended the call and sat there with her phone in her palm.
“Since I don’t have the ears of a bat, could you bring me up to speed?” Trent turned to face her.
She filled him on what she’d learned from Lieutenant Catherwood.
“So talking to him was a bust, it would seem,” Trent said.
“It doesn’t advance things much, no.” She butted her head toward the house. “I’m taking it this is the Elliott house?”
“Yep.” He shut off the car and was the first to get out.
She followed him down the walkway to the front door, catching up only once he stopped to ring the bell.
Footsteps padded toward them, and a shadow marked the sidelight. It was the smaller frame of a woman. The door inched open. “What is it?”
Trent already had his badge held up and kept it there as he announced them as police and requested to speak with Greg Elliott.
The door was opened wider. “Greg should be at work. He is at work?” The woman was somewhere in her forties, and she struck Amanda as socially awkward and shy. It sounded like she was asking them where her husband was.
“We don’t know, ma’am. That’s why we’re here looking for him,” Trent said kindly.
“What’s this about?” An edge creeped into her voice, and she narrowed her eyes.
“Who are you, ma’am?” Trent asked, again pulling out charm by adding ma’am.
“Greg’s wife of twenty years.”
“Then you might be able to help us,” Amanda interjected.
Trent moved aside, and a cold front moved in.
Amanda bristled but stayed focused. “Your husband had plates registered to his name, which have since expired.”
“Are we in trouble over that?”
“We need to know who might have them now.” Trent pulled out his tablet and told the lady the plate number.
“Oh, those are the plates we had on the Elantra. Come to think of it, I don’t recall ever getting those back. Greg got into an accident, and the car was deemed a complete write-off then and there. It was a miracle he walked away. I suppose the plates were the last thing on our minds. But we took the opportunity to upgrade.” She smiled now. “Got ourselves a brand-new Toyota and some custom plates.”
Depending on the severity of an accident, the vehicles involved either went to a body shop for repair or straight to a place to be demolished. Either way, Greg should have been contacted about his plates. If he didn’t want them returned, the plates would have been made invalid and shredded by the Department of Motor Vehicles. Greg would have needed to sign off on that. Amanda asked Mrs.Elliott if he had.
“Hmm. Well, you’d be best to talk to Greg. Or you could just ask the place that scrapped the car? It did go right there after the accident.”
