And Dominique’s trip to Washington was last-minute…
If the mystery jogger was their killer, the timing would suggest she was around when Christine showed up at Dominique’s house. She may have seen her pull into the driveway.Had she assumed Christine was Dominique arriving home?
When Amanda was looking at the photos on Spencer’s phone, she thought Christine looked familiar in some. It took until now for it to click in as to why. The two women shared similarities. Same hair color and build. At nine thirty, it would have been dusky, but not dark. The house was a distance from the street though. Also, the jogger, presumably the killer, may not have seen Christine’s face when she was driving in.
What if all of this was a case of mistaken identity? If so, that made Christine Lane collateral damage, and it meant that Dominique Sharp was still in grave danger.
Amanda jumped from bed and called Trent.
TWENTY-TWO
Amanda called Malone on his cell phone but had to leave a voicemail. It was a gift in disguise. If he didn’t like being at Central after nine PM, he was guaranteed to be hostile in the wee hours. She met up with Trent at the station, and they headed to Joel Blackburn’s residence. They brought along an officer as backup in case the night took a bad turn.
A background check on Blackburn didn’t give any cause for concern, but Amanda still tried to reach Dominique a few times while Trent drove. Dominique never answered, and Amanda repeatedly met with a recorded professional greeting. She didn’t leave a message. “Still no answer, and I have this sour feeling in the pit of my gut. Are we too late? I’m just sick that neither of us considered this before now.”
“Don’t go down that road. We’ve only followed the evidence in front of us.”
Her head knew that, but her heart was refusing to grant her a pass. She tugged on the door handle to get out before the car stopped.
“Amanda,” Trent said. “Please just wait until I’ve parked. You don’t need to be rolling your ankle.”
“Hurry up then.”
Trent turned off the car, and she didn’t waste a second getting out and rushing up the front walk. Joel Blackburn lived in a beautiful house in a beautiful neighborhood. It all looked idyllic from the street.
She ignored the large sparkling brass knocker on the black door and pushed the doorbell. It took three rings before there was movement inside the house. Soon after, a light inside turned on, followed by one on the front porch.
“Who is it?” a man’s voice called out.
“Prince William County PD,” she said.
The deadbolt was unlocked, and the door was eased open. Blackburn’s face came into view through the opening, and she held up her badge to back up her claim.
“Detectives Steele and Stenson. We need to speak with you and Dominique Sharp. It’s urgent.” She made a small step forward, hoping the man would read the movement and ease back. He didn’t, and Amanda stiffened. “As I said it’s urgent.”
“What is this about?”
Amanda felt eyes on her back, but when she turned she saw no one. “Dominique Sharp is staying with you, yes?”
“Yes.” Dazed, confused, giving the first signs she had pulled him from bed.
“We believe she may be in danger. Let us inside, please,” Trent put in this time.
Blackburn hesitated for a few seconds but backed up. Amanda made sure the door was locked behind them.
“What do you mean, in danger?” Blackburn’s eyes narrowed, and his brow bunched up with wrinkles.
In the light of the entry, Amanda had her first proper look at Blackburn. Handsome, square jaw, black hair with a wavy strand curling over his forehead. He was wearing a navy-blue tracksuit, and his befuddled expression was only deepening. “Where is Ms. Sharp?” Amanda asked.
“She’s in bed, where I suspect most people are at this hour.”
Amanda didn’t care for how this man was blocking them from Dominique. It had her questioning his motives. “We need you to get her for us.”
“No need.” Dominique slinked down the stairs wrapped in a silk robe with her arms tightly crossed. “What can I do for you at this time of night?”
“This conversation is better suited for sitting down.” Amanda gestured toward the grand living room off the entry. With its coordinated grouping of chairs it resembled a lounge alcove in a luxury hotel.
“Why not? Should I put on some coffee too?”
