Chapter 32
THIRTY-TWO
The warrants were all approved, but there was a delay looking at Bill Johnson’s phone.
He swore he left it at his house, and Jensen confirmed he’d never taken one from Bill’s person.
Officers were sent to Bill Johnson’s house, where they’d collect his phone and bring it in.
Amanda and Trent had the access code for when they got the device in hand.
CSIs Blair and Donnelly were also called in and headed to Bill’s house to process it and his van.
With Bill’s house covered, Amanda and Trent drove over to Down the Drain, prepared to use the key and security code they got from Bill.
Like before, the place showed no signs of life.
Just the company vans in the parking lot.
If the last twenty-four hours were a representation of his business, the doors closing was merely a formality, which only worked against Bill Johnson.
With no foot traffic and no other businesses or residences close by, it made the perfect location to hold people without the worry about prying eyes.
It was possible that Valerie and Brooke were deep inside the building, where they couldn’t have heard Amanda’s and Trent’s shouts from the day before.
Amanda and Trent entered, turned on the lights, and found the space was sparsely furnished. Nothing but a few desks and filing cabinets. There wasn’t a front counter, though it was unlikely they received many—or any—walk-ins.
The warehouse area in the back smelled of plumbing chemicals and ABS pipes.
Racks were full of fittings and faucets.
It made sense to carry some, as Amanda suspected home builders and commercial contractors used the same product for some of their projects.
But carrying an inventory to this extent struck her as excessive.
It was one more decision that would have likely contributed to the business’s financial downfall.
“Valerie? Brooke? PWCPD,” Amanda called out. Periodically, Trent would parrot this, as they walked through the shop.
After every corner was searched, they had to admit defeat.
“If they were here, they’re not now,” Trent said.
“I haven’t seen a sign they ever were or anywhere that would have been a suitable spot to hold them.” She returned to a desk with a plaque on it that read Boss. “I think we can agree on who this belongs to.”
They gloved up and rooted through the drawers.
Amanda pulled out a folder labeled Bank.
The projection plan was inside, presumably a copy as the bank would have one on file.
She thumbed through, not understanding everything.
Business and accounting weren’t her strong suits in school, and she didn’t make any claims of being a financial whiz as an adult.
The closest she got was knowing how to read the growth projections for her investments every quarter.
As long as she was making money, she was happy.
She left the details to her financial adviser, and she only had one because of the life insurance policy payout on her late husband.
For years, the money felt unearned, dirty, even cursed.
But it was a tool, and one day it would pay for Zoe to go to college, perhaps even her wedding…
Amanda stopped there. Not about to rush time as it flew fast enough on its own.
She flipped to the end of the report, and a loose sheet in the back fell to the floor.
Picking it up, she found it listed twenty places Bill Johnson had gone to get a business loan.
Every one of them had a line scratched through them.
She held it up for Trent, pointing out what it was and added, “This goes to proving Johnson’s desperation. ”
“So does this.” Trent held up a stack of unopened envelopes stamped with either Past Due or Final Notice.
Even as he shared this, his voice held the enthusiasm of a person biting into a sour lemon. Not that she could fault him. While they had motive, it didn’t get them closer to Valerie and Brooke.
Her phone rang, and she picked up to Officer Wyatt confirming he recovered Johnson’s cell phone from his house. Did they want it brought straight back to Central, or would they be swinging by for it?
“We’ll be there in five.” She ended the call and brought Trent up to speed.
“Let’s hope it gives us more than this place did.”
The van from Crime Scene was parked on the street in front of Bill Johnson’s bungalow.
Amanda and Trent met with Officer Wyatt outside the front door.
“Here’s the phone,” he said, handing it over.
“Thanks.” She punched in the code to unlock the device and checked the email app first. There were several collection notices from vendors for past due accounts. She compared these to his call history, and she recognized a crossover in business names. “This guy was in deep.”
“Which we saw proof of at his shop. What else is on his phone?” Trent asked her.
“Let’s see.” She looked at the photo gallery and found pictures of plumbing jobs that he did.
There were several of a sump-pump configuration.
Bill also organized some of his pictures into albums, and chills spread down her back when she found one named Valerie.
In it were several candid shots of the missing woman.
Of her leaving work, going into her house, coming out with her daughter.
“Johnson was stalking her.” Trent’s statement stabbed her through with ice.
“Sure seems like.” She looked at the dates of the photographs.
“They were all taken on Friday, and early Saturday morning. He was pretty irritated when we asked for the code to unlock his phone. Guess now we know why.” Amanda remembered how he’d protested.
Why would you need that? You’re being unreasonable. I demanded a lawyer.
“Malone said we needed more to pursue a search request for his mother’s property. I’d say this would qualify.”
“Me too.” Her phone pinged with a text, which she read and shared with Trent. “Johnson’s lawyer’s arrived.”
They told Wyatt they were headed out and to let them know immediately if he or the CSIs found anything that flagged.