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TWENTY-FOUR
While the evening seemed iffy at first due to the unexpected situation with Zoe, it had turned around. Amanda was still smiling for how well things had gone as she parked in the lot at Central the next morning. Libby had stayed for pizza and her girlfriend, Penny Anderson, had come over and joined them. Zoe’s spirits had lifted, and she’d started making a game of the storm that circled the area for hours. Every time the thunder cracked, she’d point up and giggle. “Can’t hurt me,” she’d say.
It warmed Amanda’s heart, but she was also aware that not far off in the distance was the grief, the hurt, the anger that circled Zoe—much like that thunderstorm. While they’d weathered the storm last night, there would be more in the future. Amanda was prepared to face it all by Zoe’s side.
As Amanda had tucked her into bed, Zoe had said, “The balloon thing sounds like fun.”
“Yeah, it does,” Amanda had agreed. Maybe she’d change up their plans for the weekend—the aquarium and the science center. In the least, Amanda would pick up balloons for some hair-raising fun.
“Good morning,” Trent said from his desk, eyeing her over the divider, then getting up to join her in her cubicle.
“Hey. Considering you’re on my heels already, I’m guessing you have something?” She sipped her Hannah’s Diner coffee, longing for it to wake her up. As good as the evening had gone, her sleep had been choppy, causing her to toss and turn, doing the typical worrywart thing about Zoe and the challenges they faced. Not just with Zoe processing her parents’ murders but with Colin Brewster popping up.
“I do.” Trent leaned against the partition, perching his elbow on the top of it.
“Hit me.” She dropped into her chair and swiveled to face him.
“Good news? Bad news? Any preference?”
“Always bad. It’s only up from there.”
“Thought you’d say that. All right, I heard from Detective Briggs last night.”
Interesting that he’d called Trent and not returned her call, but all right. It was probably a good thing, considering. But she was cringing inside to think this was supposed to be the bad news. “He didn’t have any success with the video?”
“Ah, yes and no.” Trent rolled his hand like a teeter-totter.
Another draw on her coffee to help with her patience, which was wearing a little thin. “Trent,” she said.
“He wasn’t able to gauge the mystery man’s height, but he got a partial plate.” He rattled off three digits. “These are from the middle of the plate.”
“Okay, it could be worse. That’s the bad news?”
“Yeah,” he dragged out.
“We can take those digits and do a search by also cross-referencing the type of vehicles that have the right type of headlight. Which you’ve done?” Call it a hunch.
“Which I’ve done.” He grinned.
“And?”
“Last year’s Toyota Camry, registered to Ashton Chambers, nineteen years of age. Now, he’s also got a juvie record from when he was fifteen. I’ve googled him and read his social media posts. He’s extremely unhappy and angry at the world. And…”
“Drum roll?” She snickered.
“He followed Chloe on Snap VidPic and spewed hate at her.”
“So this may not have been some random car service dropping off that mystery person.”
“Nope. He could have been the killer’s partner.”
“Shit. Well, it sounds like we have our next stop. Grab your coat. We just got our best lead yet.”
“Ashton Chambers, Prince William County PD!” Amanda called out and banged on the door again, hard enough it could be assumed the place was on fire and she was trying to rouse the resident.
“Hold up!” A man’s voice volleyed back from inside, and footsteps plodded toward the door. A security chain was slid across, and several deadbolts unlatched. The door swung open. “What do you want?”
Ashton Chambers certainly wasn’t Mr. Congeniality. He was wearing stained jogging pants and a plain gray T-shirt. His short hair was mussed and sticking up in spots, like he’d just crawled out of bed. His eyes were also bloodshot, either from exhaustion or tipping a bottle the night before. She held up her badge. “Ashton Chambers, we need to bring you in for questioning in regards to a current investigation.”
“What the— Why?”
“We’ll be happy to fill you in down at the station. Come on.” She wriggled her fingers, motioning for him to get him moving.
“Fine. Give me a minute.” He huffed and grabbed keys from a bowl on a hall table. He put on a coat and pushed his feet into running shoes that were already laced.
They didn’t cuff him, but Trent frisked him, as per procedure, to make sure that he didn’t have anything on his person to inflict harm. He was loaded in the back of the department car, and they took him to an interrogation room at Central. They’d just escorted him inside when Malone showed up behind Amanda and Trent. He jabbed his gaze in Ashton’s direction and raised his eyebrows.
Amanda and Trent stepped back into the hallway and shut the door. They brought Malone up to speed.
“Huh. So we can connect him to Chloe Somner, but we don’t know if he was aware the person he had dropped off at the park intended to kill her? Or even whether they were friends? Is that right?” Malone was looking at her for an answer.
“We’re going to find out,” Amanda said.
“Well, good luck.” Malone dipped his head and set off in the direction of his office.
Good luck had very little to do with investigations, but it was always welcome. She turned to Trent. “You want to take the lead with the questioning?”
“Sure.”
She smiled and gestured for him to proceed into the room. She followed and shut the door.
Trent sat and placed a folder on the table. It held Ashton’s background, some crime scene photos, and the one of Chloe Somner that her mother had provided. “Mr. Chambers, do you know why we brought you in today?”
Ashton slumped in his chair. “Can’t say I do, and I really need to catch up on my sleep, man.”
“It’s Detective Stenson.” Trent pushed out the correction in a measured tone, establishing the pecking order.
Ashton rolled his eyes, and Trent smacked the table. Ashton twitched.
For some reason, a tiny whirl of excitement rushed through Amanda every time Trent showed his temper. Maybe it was because when they were first paired, he’d been rather quiet and timid.
Trent withdrew the photo of Chloe and pushed it across the table in front of Ashton. “Do you know this woman?”
Ashton paled and rubbed his stomach.
“Give it some thought if you have to,” Trent said.
“I didn’t kill her.” Ashton was trembling.
Trent angled his head. “I never said she was dead or murdered.”
“That’s got to be why you’re interested in me. I heard that some woman was murdered. Chloe? You’re probably thinking I had something to do with it just because she ruined my life!”
Amanda was quite sure it took more than news of a murdered woman for him to make that leap.
“She, ah, ruined your life?” Trent looked at Amanda, as if to say, This just became more interesting.
“Don’t pretend like you don’t know. She’s why I live on my friend’s couch and have a dead-end job at a pizza shop.”
Amanda was thinking there were worse fates for a nineteen-year-old who was still figuring out his path in life. He spoke as if he were middle-aged and his life had been crap for decades.
“How is she responsible for that?” Trent asked.
Ashton certainly wasn’t making the case against him any weaker.
“Never mind.” Ashton snapped his mouth shut and glanced up at the ceiling. If Trent didn’t back off the intensity just a little bit, Ashton might clam up and request a lawyer.
Amanda approached the table. “We’re just covering some bases here, Mr. Chambers. No one’s claiming or saying you did anything to Chloe. Not yet anyway.”
“No?” he shoved out. “You come to my place and drag me here.”
