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“No such luck, Mr. Sharp. Have you been read your rights?”
“Yes.”
“And you’re waiving your right to counsel?”
He shrugged. “This is a big misunderstanding, really. I’m sure we’ll work this out, you and me. Why get the lawyers involved?”
She opened the file she’d brought with her, a simple folder filled with several blank sheets of paper she’d snatched from the printer outside the room. “Statutory rape, in the case of Jenna Jerrell. You think you can work this charge out real quick?” The sarcasm in her voice seemed to wash past him like water over goose feathers.
He looked at her sheepishly and clasped his hands together on the table’s dented surface. “You probably hear this a lot, but I had no idea she wasn’t eighteen.” His smile held steadily, maybe a little tense, and so did his gaze. “Someone as stunningly beautiful as you can understand this, I’m sure. I’m willing to bet a pretty penny that the men around you are willing to bend a rule or two just to steal a moment of your time.”
Unbelievable. He was flirting with her, and he was good at it.
She flipped a page of the nonexistent case file. “I have in here that some years ago, someone stole your identity. Is that true, Mr. Sharp?”
He leaned back against the back of his chair and sighed. “Wow, this happened a long, long time ago. Why do you ask, after all these years?”
“Who was the man who stole your identity? Do you remember?”
He didn’t reply; instead, he studied her with increased curiosity as if he was about to put two and two together.
“Let me tell you what this is about, Mr. Sharp,” Kay continued. “There are several crimes that were committed in the past three decades, cases still open that have your name listed as a suspect. An aggravated assault,” she pretended to read, “a couple of B&Es, a few robberies.” She closed the file and set her hands on top. “A couple of those were investigated and it was proven you weren’t the one responsible. We’d like to catch the man who is. For others, we don’t know that you weren’t the actual perpetrator. You might remember being questioned in some of these cases?”
His eyes widened and filled with worry. “No, I don’t recall. Like you said, it’s a very common name. Maybe it’s a coincidence?”
“Or maybe the man who stole your identity committed these crimes. We’d like to interview him. Are you sure you don’t recall who he is?”
He looked straight at her. “No, I never knew his real name. I just had things starting to happen around me, like these crimes you’re talking about, but it wasn’t me. Like taking a job and being told someone with my name had just quit the same job, but it wasn’t a coincidence, because he’d given the same place of birth as mine. One time, someone had changed the address on my driver’s license. Stuff like that, uncanny.”
“All right,” she said, frustrated she couldn’t get anything out of him. He was telling the truth, though; she believed him. “One more thing left to discuss then, Mr. Sharp, and that’s the statutory rape charge.”
He nodded, tight-lipped.
“You see, I believe my colleagues were in a rush when they wrote the warrant. It should’ve been for soliciting a minor, which is by far a lesser charge, one that can be pleaded down to nothing, really.”
He nodded again, interlacing his fingers and rubbing his thumbs nervously. “Jenna is so beautiful and smart and sensitive. I couldn’t not talk to her. She’s going through a very difficult time, and all she needed was a friend, someone who’d listen to her and try to make her smile. She’s a wonderful young woman.”
“Was.”
“What?”
“Jenna was killed last week, on Tuesday.”
He sprung to his feet and started to pace the room restlessly. “Oh, my goodness… I swear to you, I had nothing to do with that. I was wondering why she—” He cupped his mouth in his hand for a brief moment, then turned to face Kay. “I swear. On Tuesday, I was—”
“Don’t care, Mr. Sharp. I know you didn’t kill her. I know who did. Sit down, and let’s finish this.”
Visibly relieved, he pulled the chair and sat.
“During this investigation, we uncovered her relationship with you, and we know you two met in person on several occasions.”
“Yes, we did.”
“How old are you, Mr. Sharp?”
He cleared his voice before speaking and lowered his gaze. “I’m fifty-six. I’m sure you already knew that, and I know what you’re going to say, but—”
“Do you?” Kay snapped. “Do you really know what I’m going to say?”
