“Nothing much here so far either. No suitcase. Just this.” He was elbows deep in a duffel bag and was taking everything out in an organized fashion and setting it on the bed. “A couple pairs of jeans—designer—a few T-shirts, socks, underwear, a bra…”
“Claire travels light. She just had the basics in the bathroom too.” Amanda moved to the closet near the door. No jackets or other shoes, but there was a safe and its door was shut. She tugged on it. Locked. “Seems she has something in the safe.” She got on the phone with the front desk and was given an override code. They assured her it was only used in cases such as this. She hung up and punched it in on the keypad. A clunk, and she was in. She opened the door, Trent now beside her.
She stepped back. So did he.
Stacks of cash. At least twenty grand.
“What the heck?” Trent gasped. “Where… how did she come into that much money?”
“My guess? Not doing anything legal.” The fake ID, the secrecy, the disappearance from her sister’s life, then Logan’s, the unregistered gun in her possession, the fact she had been murdered,andall this dough. None of these things pointed anywhere good. But they also didn’t provide the entire picture either.
“We’ve got to talk to your boyfriend again and see if he can give us anything to go on.”
“First, he’s not my boyfriend. Second, I am quite confident he would have nothing to offer about this.” She flailed a hand toward the safe. “Even when they were living together, they kept separate accounts.”
“We could still ask.”
“Sure. Just don’t expect to get anywhere.” She leveled her gaze at him, and he eventually nodded.
“Okay, so we have cash, an unregistered gun, a fake ID… It’s obvious whatever Claire was caught up in, landed her in over her head.”
“I say we call in Crime Scene to process the room, bag the money. We get the video and see if it gives us anything about her last steps.”
“There’s not even a single receipt to help us with that. And if there ever was, it’s gone now. The trash bins are empty.”
“Just great.”
“All right, just thinking what might get us our answers faster,” Trent began. “We should look at Claire’s Facebook account, see if we can find close friends of hers, but there’s also an address that would be on the fake license. Where does Deb Smith supposedly live? Maybe that will help us get somewhere.”
Amanda wished she’d thought of that before now, but she and Trent had been so caught up in other angles of the investigation. For a starter they had been more focused on Claire Hunter herself because they knew that was the victim’s real name. “We’ll check it out, see what turns up.” She’d had high hopes of making it home tonight in time to have dinner with Zoe, but it wasn’t looking like that was going to happen. She’d have to call Libby Dewinter, Zoe’s godmother and effectively her aunt. Not related by blood, but in every other way that it counted. Libby often stayed with Zoe after school until Amanda got home. It worked well and was convenient for Libby as she was a teacher at Zoe’s school. The start of summer break was only two weeks away, though, and Amanda would have to make arrangements for Zoe during the day.
“I’ll call Crime Scene, probably the fastest way to get that address. Need to call them anyway to come here.”
She nodded. “I’ve got a call to make too.” A minute later, she was hanging up. As usual, Libby was a champ about just going with the flow. She’d make Zoe dinner and was happy to stay as long as she was needed. Next, Amanda called Graves and brought her up to speed. With each phone call Amanda made to her, the sergeant sounded less happy. She was probably realizing how rash she’d been about assuming Logan’s guilt.
Trent pocketed his phone. “Crime Scene will be here within the hour.”
That was fast considering they were likely coming from their headquarters in Manassas, which was a half hour away.
“I’ve got the address for Deb Smith. It’s in Sun and Shade Mobile Home Park on the edge of town.”
“Didn’t Michelle say that she and Claire lived in a mobile home park when they were younger?”
“She did. I’ll call and see if that’s the park.” He pulled out his phone again and made the call.
Amanda went to the window and swept back the drapes, affording Trent a little privacy while he spoke with his friend. She watched traffic on the street buzz by and then looked at the hotel parking lot beneath them. It was rather full. She could see their department car from here and noted an idling, silver sedan near the road access as two police cruisers entered the lot.
“It’s the same park,” Trent said, and it had her turning. “But a different number than where they lived.”
“We’ll pay the people there a visit once we can hand over the hotel room to Crime Scene and uniformed officers. Shouldn’t be long. Just saw two cruisers pull in.”
“Okay, good.”
There was something in his tone. Sadness? Empathy? “How’s Michelle holding up?”
“Not doing good. She’s blaming herself. Said that she should have listened to her gut. It told her Claire wasn’t being completely forthright the day she dropped by, but she didn’t push because she figured she’d have all the time in the world to do that.”
“That’s rough.” Amanda didn’t know what else to say. She didn’t want to point out what she learned a long time ago: One never knew when time would run out.
