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“Yeah, him. What am I missing?” He shot her a quick glance.
There was a beat of loaded silence, the only sound the rhythmic thumping of tires against asphalt seal joints. “Well, his name is Gavin Sharp,” Kay replied, letting out a long breath of air.
Elliot glanced at her again. “What? Is that anyone you know?”
She chuckled with sadness. “That’s my father’s name.” She paused for a second, weighing the words before speaking them. “What you probably don’t know is that my father disappeared eighteen years ago after nearly killing my mother.”
She swallowed with difficulty, her throat constricted, refusing to articulate the name out loud and hoping Elliot couldn’t read her body language to see through her lies.
Elliot whistled. “Whoa… are you saying?—”
“No. Jenna wasn’t dating my father,” she replied, instilling as much calm as she could into her brittle voice. “But you can understand why I needed some time to sort through this mess.”
Silence filled the space between them for a long moment. “You didn’t feel you could trust me?” He sounded hurt, and he had every reason to feel that way.
“No, it’s not that, Elliot. It was just the shock, that’s all. In eighteen years, I haven’t heard his name, except when people were asking me if we knew anything about him. He has outstanding warrants. My father is a wanted fugitive.”
A beat. “I take it the vending machine sandwiches aren’t that bad after all?”
She smiled weakly. He was quick to piece together what had happened. “I wouldn’t recommend them, though.”
“So, who is this guy? Any relation to you whatsoever?”
“None that I know of.” Another sigh broke free from her chest. “But this will dredge up ancient history again.”
“How old were you when it happened?”
She glanced at him quickly, not realizing she’d lowered her eyes. “Thirteen. But the abuse had been going on for years. I just… I never knew any other way until he was gone.”
Elliot’s hand left the steering wheel and found hers. He squeezed it gently, instilling strength into her heart. “What do we know about this Gavin Sharp?”
“Well, he’s got a record.” She was glad to change the subject.
“Make my day and tell me it’s for rape.”
“Nope, sorry. Just simple assault and battery, a sports game brawl gone bad. Served his half-year, then nada. I’m guessing he picked up some new skills on the inside, learned how to lay down low.”
Elliot brought the SUV to a stop in front of the Jerrell residence. “What are you expecting to find here?”
“Answers,” Kay replied, before climbing out of the Ford.
It took a while for Brenda Jerrell to open the door. Kay kept insisting, seeing that her car was in the driveway. Several oak leaves had fallen onto the windshield; that car hadn’t been driven in a couple of days.
Mrs. Jerrell was as pale as a sheet, with a haunted, empty look in her eyes. After a moment’s hesitation, she recognized them and stepped to the side, letting them in.
The living room was shrouded in darkness, the curtains still closed although it was two in the afternoon. The air was stale, dust swirling in the air in visible particles wherever a ray of light broke through the curtains. The door to the bedroom, where Mr. Jerrell had killed himself, was gaping open, a bloodstain dried a deep shade of maroon on the carpet at the foot of the bed. A blanket and a pillow were set on the couch; she must have been sleeping in the living room.
“Please tell me you have help,” Kay whispered, clasping the woman’s hands in hers. They were cold to the touch, lifeless.
She stared at Kay with an empty gaze as if not understanding. After a moment, she said, “M—my sister is coming over from Detroit. Tonight.”
“Good,” Kay replied softly. “Don’t be alone at a time like this. Please call me if you need help,” she added, putting her card into her hand.
She nodded. “I don’t know how to live without them. I just don’t,” she whispered, her voice frail, brittle. “Did you find who took my baby’s life?”
“We’re still investigating,” Kay replied gently. “Actually, we need your help.”
She nodded, gathering her robe around her body as if fighting off a chill.
