Page 61 of Stolen Daughters (Detective Amanda Steele)

She went to the details of his crime and felt the goosebumps rise on her arms. “Ah, Trent.”

“Yeah.” He’d responded but sounded like he was concentrating on something.

“I think I found someone.”

“Me too.”

“Okay, I’ll go first. Mine’s a guy named Samuel Booth.”

Trent glanced over at her. “Small world. I’m looking at him too. Served fifteen for killing a woman.”

“A woman he strangled and stabbed,” Amanda added.

“Yep. And did you get to this morsel yet? He lives only three blocks over from

Bill Drive.”

She felt herself go cold. “We’ve got to have a talk with Mr. Booth.”

Thirty-Three

Amanda banged on Samuel Booth’s door. It was just after midnight when she and Trent had arrived. They’d pulled a background on Samuel and found out he had been twenty-three when he went to prison and was now forty-one. That fell within the age range Ingram had assigned the jogger. Samuel’s DMV photo showed a man who could pass for thirty-something. The hard time in prison didn’t seem to have aged him beyond his years. Maybe he was one of those people who thrived behind bars and three squares a day. Their home away from home.

A year after getting out, Samuel had married a woman named Alesha, who was a couple of years younger than him.

Amanda knocked again. “Samuel Booth, Prince William County PD!”

Footsteps headed toward the door, and the deadbolt was unlatched.

A man stood on the other side of the threshold, matching the DMV photo for Samuel Booth. He was dressed like it was the middle of the day, not the middle of the night, in jeans and a T-shirt.

She held up her badge and so did Trent. “Samuel Booth?”

“Who wants to know?”

“We’re Homicide Detectives Steele and Stenson. We’re going to need you to come with us.”

“Sam?” A woman called out from behind the man and joined everyone at the door. She was petite and had a nose that sat crooked on her face, like it was broken at one time, but it had never been set right. She was also dressed in casual clothes. “Who are you?”

“They’re the police, Alesha.” Samuel answered for them.

The woman gnarled up her face at Amanda and Trent. “He hasn’t done anything wrong. What do you want with him?”

Samuel looked calmly at his wife, put a hand on her arm. “I’ll just do as they ask and get this over with.” He made eye contact with Amanda. “Yes, I’m Samuel Booth.”

“What do you want with him?” Alesha squealed.

“We’d like to question your husband regarding the murders of Ashley Lynch and Shannon Fox.”

“Murders?” Samuel’s voice hitched. “I didn’t—”

“No.” Alesha stared at her husband. “Don’t you let them do this to you. They’re just targeting you because of your history.” She met Amanda’s gaze. “He didn’t kill anybody. He was with me.”

“You don’t know the time of the murders, ma’am, and I ask that you move away from him.” Amanda motioned with her hand for the woman to step aside.

“I can’t let you do this to him,” Alesha griped.

“We’re just bringing Samuel in to talk to him. That’s all.” Amanda tried to assure the woman as best she could.