Page 75 of Last Seen Alive
“When was this… incident?” Sylvia rubbed her neck.
“Fifteen years ago. Claire was twenty-one, out of your home,” Amanda added, and the shoulders of both Hamiltons raised, relieved it wasn’t during their watch. The couple’s eyes met, though, and it seemed like they were having a silent conversation. “Is there something either of you should tell us?”
Sylvia was breathing heavily.
“We need to tell them, Sylvia.” Albert cupped the back of his wife’s hand.
Amanda let the couple take a few seconds, leaving them to continue communicating through touch and eye contact.
Tears fell down Sylvia’s cheeks silently, not even the trace whimper of a sob. She butted her head toward Albert.
He said, “We received an envelope… Now this was years ago. Say close to seven.”
Around the time Claire had met Logan, got married, and ran off to Nebraska.
“There was money inside,” Albert went on. “More cash than I’ve seen in my life. Fifteen thousand, right there in our hands. She left it in the mailbox with a note.”
“It said, ‘You’re good people. Thank you,’” Sylvia inserted. “I knew it was from Claire. She didn’t sign it, but the writing gave her away.”
“What did you do with the money?” Amanda asked.
“They say never look a gift horse in the mouth.” Albert flushed. “We kept it, said nothing.”
“That’s why I was anxious seeing you at the door and asking about Claire.” Sylvia cradled her cup. “I thought you were going to want the money back. But we’ve long spent it. No way we could come up with that amount.”
“We’re not here for that.” The Hamiltons really had received a gift. Sale of the stolen items were probably handled via wire transfer, or even an early cryptocurrency like Bitcoin. The point was there wouldn’t be bills and serial numbers to track. “We asked about boyfriends already, but do you know of a friend Claire had nicknamed Roo?”
“No. Sorry,” Sylvia said.
“What about close friends?” Trent spoke up.
Sylvia shook her head. “Claire kept a lot to herself. I’d try to get her to talk, but it never met with much success. But then she had been through so much—her dad killing her mother—how could she trust people?”
Amanda’s mind returned to an earlier point in the conversation. “You mentioned fostering another girl at the same time as Claire. You said this girl would cover for her. Her name again?”
“Brianna Shepard,” Sylvia said. “And before you ask, we’re not in contact with her either.”
Amanda thought how lonely and empty that must feel. Sheltering and caring for children at their lowest points then sending them out into the world never to see them again. Fostering must have felt like a thankless job at times. “If you think of anything else that might help us patch Claire’s past together, call me.” Amanda stood and gave Sylvia her business card. “Thank you for talking with us and for the coffee.” Not that she or Trent ended up touching theirs.
They got back in the car. “We need to find this Brianna Shepherd and see what she might tell us,” Amanda said.
“No need to even say it.”
TWENTY-EIGHT
Trent’s paranoia was growing with every minute on this investigation. He kept looking in the rearview mirror, seeing if he could spot anyone following them. Nothing. No one obvious anyhow. He just hated feeling like he was being watched.
He’d found Brianna Shepherd, now Morris, in the system. She was married to a man named Richard and living in Triangle, a small town within Prince William County. It was moving on four o’clock by the time he pulled into the Morrises’ driveway.
He knocked, but Amanda was standing directly in front of the door. It was opened by a man in his late thirties. Richard Morris.
“Yeah?”
“We’re with the Prince William County PD. Here to speak with your wife, Brianna.” Trent held up his badge for the man to look at. He swayed and reached for the doorframe. Trent moved to help steady him. The guy was drunk off his feet. “Let me help you.”
The man swatted at Trent. “Let me alone.” He was slurring and ogling Amanda. “What do you want with me anyway?”
Trent looked at Amanda, as if to say,what the hell?
