Page 54 of Bring Them Home

“Did I hear right? Malone needs us back at Central? Something to do with the US Marshals?”

“Yep.” As Trent drove them back, Amanda’s mind spun. What the heck does the US Marshals Service want with us?

TWENTY-SIX

Amanda received a call from Officer Wyatt on the way back to Central. The landlord hadn’t seen Peggy in days, but said it wasn’t unusual for her to disappear for stretches at a time. That did little to soothe Amanda’s suspicions. Bill and his wife clearly had big enough problems to break up their marriage, but money concerns could have brought them together for a common cause. And if they were on the right track with their theory, it was possible killing Paul had backfired. Instead of making Valerie compliant, it could have made her more resistant. Then what? Would they be too late putting the pieces together? Would this all end with the discovery of two more bodies? And what, if anything, did this have to do with a US marshal wanting to speak with her and Trent?

They were winding through the hallways at Central when she turned to Trent. “I’d like to talk with Malone when we’re finished with our visitor about getting a trace on the Johnsons’ phones, and a BOLO out for them too.”

“We have enough to justify all of that if you ask me.”

She hoped Malone saw it the same way. When they reached Malone’s office, his door was closed and the blinds were shut. Since when…? For a sergeant who preferred both were left open to encourage open communication between him and his staff, it was a rare sight. An unfamiliar man’s voice came from inside. Likely the US marshal. She knocked, hoping whatever the marshal wanted wouldn’t take long. Without this detour, she already felt like she was spinning trying to get to Valerie and Brooke.

“Come in,” Malone called out.

“Here goes,” Trent said while she led the way inside.

A man was seated across from Malone, but he looked over his shoulder and stood to greet them. He was of solid build, easily six-foot-two. Dirty-blond hair with some grays around the temples. Probably in his early fifties. He shook hands with Amanda and Trent. “Deputy Marshal Russell Holden.”

“This is Detective Amanda Steele and Detective Trent Stenson,” Malone said, providing their names. “They are in the middle of a time-sensitive investigation, so if we could get down to what you’re here to discuss…”

Malone doesn’t know what the man wants yet?

“Yes, by all means.” Russell gestured to the chair he’d vacated, offering it up to Amanda.

“I’m good to stand,” she told him.

“Me too.” Trent offered the man a pleasant smile.

“Suit yourselves.” Russell turned the chair so he could see them without straining his neck, as well as Malone. “Why are you interested in Abigail McGee?”

The question confounded her for a moment, but her mind assembled a probable scenario. It could explain a lot. “I’d ask you the same, but I’m going to guess she must be in witness protection. Am I warm?”

“If you could just answer my question, Detective.” The marshal flashed a tight smile toward Malone, as if making a silent petition for the sergeant to step in and command his detectives to talk.

Malone didn’t say a word, but he met her gaze.

“What makes you think we’re interested in her?” The read she was getting off the man didn’t put her in a cooperative mood. One scathing look from Malone, and she added, “Though I can wager one guess. When someone brings up her background, it notifies you?” She was running on the assumption Abigail was in the program.

“Why the interest in Abigail McGee?” he repeated.

She didn’t care for the fact he was stonewalling them. And all they did was pull one brief report on Abigail. To say they had an interest in her was pushing things. Amanda glanced at Malone, who begged her with his eyes to just answer the man. “She’s related to the victim in our investigation. Nothing more, nothing less. We came across her name when looking at the deceased’s relatives.”

“That victim being Paul Archer, her brother, found murdered yesterday morning in a cornfield northwest of Woodbridge. A place called Haymarket.” Russell listed all that off easily. He must have gotten a hold of the file somehow.

Amanda stiffened. “That’s right. But I’m lost as to what brings you here. Do you think Abigail is connected to her brother’s murder?”

“Oh, I never said that.”

“But Abigail is in WITSEC, isn’t she?” Amanda put it more bluntly this time.

“I’m not at liberty to confirm or deny.”

“Which means she is, just as your presence here says as much.” Rage flooded her veins for a couple of reasons. The deputy’s dismissiveness and her empathy for Detective Lloyd McGee. He’d lived the last eight years in hell not knowing what became of his wife. “Why was she admitted to the program?” Amanda pushed ahead, despite getting a read her efforts wouldn’t pay off.

Russell smiled tightly as he clasped his hands. “Who said she is?”

“Listen, Deputy Holden, what you know could be crucial to our investigation,” Trent wedged in, beating Amanda to saying something similarly forceful. “Obviously, Abigail saw something or knows something she shouldn’t. Regardless, she’s pissed someone off. And right now, those people could have come for her family. Your showing up here also suggests you think that’s possible.”