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A stillness fell between them, a peace that took her back to before she’d made the impulsive decision to kiss him. This level of comfort was a relief to fall back on.
It was nearing eight thirty by the time she and Trent walked into the observation room next door to where Lowell Mooney was awaiting interrogation. He wasn’t an impressive looking fellow. Average height, average looks, Caucasian, brown eyes, brown hair. The background they had pulled while waiting to move in on his motel room told them he was forty-two. His son would be seventeen now and mostly finished growing up without his father in his life.
“Whoa. Look at you.” Malone stepped back when he saw Trent’s eye.
“Yeah, it looks worse than it is.”
Amanda sensed Trent was being macho about it and putting on a bold front. His eyes told of a pounding headache, but he must have a high threshold for pain. This wasn’t his first time injured in the line of duty. He’d nearly died before. Back when he was an overeager uniformed rookie with the Dumfries PD, he had inserted himself into an FBI investigation. They were hunting a serial killer in the area, and Trent’s impulsive actions earned him two bullets. That case turned out to be fateful not just for Trent. Amanda’s best friend, Becky Tulson, met Brandon Fisher, a member of the Behavioral Analysis Unit assigned to the investigation. They started seeing each other, and it had been over four years now.
“Is it right what I heard? You pulled a Glock 19 off the guy?” Malone said.
Amanda nodded. “Yep. The same type of gun used to shoot Leah Bernard.”
“He’s also the right height,” Trent put in.
“Just no tattoo,” Amanda said. “Unless it was a temp one he has since cleaned off.”
Malone nodded. “And his partner in crime?”
“No visual indication a woman had been in his motel room. But CSIs are processing it to see what they can find,” Amanda told him.
“A dive like Sunny, they’ll find an overwhelming number of DNA profiles to process.”
All Amanda did was nod, though she was disgusted by his statement. There was a time her heartbreak drove her to have regular one-night stands in sleazy places like Sunny. In fact, sometimes at Sunny. She shuddered at the thought she’d been in such a painful spot that she’d sunk so low as to give herself over to strangers. Her motto had been the less emotional tie, the better. That went sideways with Logan. He was the last one-night stand she ever had.
“No request for a lawyer, so you’re good to move in whenever you’d like.” Malone turned toward the window, his motion doing as much as saying, get on with it.
Amanda and Trent looked at each other. Usually Malone liked beefier updates than the one he’d received. Not to mention this time he had done most of the talking.
They went next door, and Lowell Mooney didn’t shy from making eye contact with them. Like Ollie Rush, Lowell seemed to get a kick out of being of interest to the police. He clearly viewed it as a game of who could outsmart who.
“Lowell Mooney, we didn’t get a chance to introduce ourselves,” Amanda began. “Detectives Steele and Stenson.”
Lowell lassoed a finger in the air as if to say whoop-de-doo. The gesture sparked Amanda’s anger. It took her remaining willpower to clamp her mouth shut. She’d already demonstrated restraint.
Amanda turned to Trent to proceed. He pulled Katherine’s photograph from a folder he’d brought in with them. The same folder of “goodies” they’d used during interrogations earlier today.
He put the pic on the table and pushed it across.
Lowell swept it off the table with gusto, and it danced on air currents as it descended to the floor and landed several feet away.
“Katherine Graves.” Amanda set her name out there as a lure, let him fill in the ensuing silence. Narcissists loved hearing the sound of their voices.
“Bitch.” Lowell made the B pop, and the rest of the word followed as an afterthought.
“Why are you in Woodbridge?” she asked him, not giving him the satisfaction of reacting to his language.
“Just hanging out in a motel room watching TV.” Lowell shrugged.
She casually leaned back in her chair, though she would have preferred to lunge for his neck. “Where were you this morning?”
“Depends what time.”
“Early. Five to six AM.”
“Asleep.”
“Can anyone testify to that?”
