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He shook his head and looked at her imploringly. “No, I don’t. I’m so sorry, I shouldn’t’ve said that. Please continue.”
Kay sighed and stood, feeling the urge to put more distance between her and the pervert seated across from her. The thought of that man’s hands touching Jenna revolted her, stirring up memories she didn’t want fresh in her mind ever again.
Yet, just a few more months, and the relationship would’ve been legal, and modern society would’ve thought of the fifty-six-year-old man as a player and a lucky bastard instead of a pervert, for dating an eighteen-year-old girl. What difference a few months made. Or a few miles… other states had a lower age of consent, of seventeen or even sixteen in some. Was he really that unlucky? Or would he have had sex with Jenna even if she were fourteen years old, or twelve? Thankfully for the sake of her own peace of mind, she only had to enforce the law, not make such difficult judgment calls. That was a job for the courts.
“During said investigation, we have uncovered that you did far more than soliciting a minor over the internet. You actually had sex with a minor on several occasions.” He started to shift in his seat as if bursting with the need to speak, but she stopped him with a raised hand. He froze in place with his mouth slightly agape. “We have uncovered a diary, in which Jenna wrote that she had told you she was of age, so you’re off the hook if you had sex with her. Because you didn’t know she was seventeen, did you, Mr. Sharp?”
“No, I didn’t, I swear. And we only had sex four or five times, not more. She wanted to come live with me in the city, but I didn’t want that, not before she finished school, so people wouldn’t come looking for her.”
And with those few rushed words, he’d confessed to statutory rape. It felt good, knowing he’d pay for what he’d done, and he’d be registered as a sex offender. And yet, a thought kept bothering Kay as she wrapped up the interview.
The man seated in front of her was the only one who’d offered Jenna a bit of warmth in the past few months. In a predatory kind of way, but still. The ones who’d made her life a living hell were still out there, free to go about their business, undisturbed.
“Mr. Sharp, we’re charging you with statutory rape and soliciting a minor. I strongly suggest you get a lawyer before saying anything else.”
Stunned, he watched her leave the room, then started pounding on the door that closed behind her. “You fucking bitch! You had no right… I trusted you. Damn lyin’ cops. Get me a lawyer!”
She listened for a moment, happy to know he wouldn’t be out there looking for another underage girl to seduce, at least not for a while.
Elliot appeared from the observation room while Gavin Sharp was still yelling invectives through the closed door. “Should I go in there and teach him some manners?”
“Nah, partner, it’s all good.”
Except one thing she didn’t want to talk about, not even with him.
Her father… who was he? And what had he done that had made him steal the identity of a slick city pervert like that? Did she have the courage to stare into that particular abyss?
FORTY-EIGHT
CONSCIENCE
The precinct was almost empty. Most deputies working on Sundays were out enforcing speed limits as waves of tourists moved up and down the coast to make the most of their weekend. Regardless, someone had just heated up Mexican food in the microwave, filling the air with the mouthwatering smell of fresh quesadilla de pollo.
Kay ignored the growling in her stomach and grabbed her keys from her desk. “Wanna visit with Doc Whitmore? I have a few questions, but they’re not all case related. Then I’ll have to stop for a bite to eat.”
Elliot looked at her for a moment as if trying to figure out if she wanted him to tag along or she was just being polite. She didn’t know either. “Sure.” He held the door open and seemingly waited for her to remember they’d driven down to the precinct in his SUV, because she’d obviously forgotten. She couldn’t hide a smile as she slid her keys into her pocket.
“You drive, partner.”
She climbed into the SUV, wondering if what she was about to do could be a costly mistake. Maybe sleeping dogs were meant to let lie, and it was only a matter of strong willpower to let the entire thing go. Who cared about her father’s real identity, when it made no difference whatsoever? Or perhaps that’s why she couldn’t think of anything else to do with her life than being a cop. She needed to know.
A blue Lexus pulled in next to them, and the woman behind the wheel waved at them. It was Kendra’s mother. Elliot walked over to the driver’s side and shook her hand through the rolled-down window, but she got out of the car and hugged him. Kay walked over quickly, her heart pounding with fear that they might’ve been too late.
“Is Kendra…?”
“Yes,” Mrs. Flannagan said, letting Elliot go and crushing her in a hug. “Thank you, Detective, you saved my little girl. I wanted you to know just how grateful we both are. My husband’s still with her, in Redding, where they took her.” She pulled away just as Kay was getting uncomfortable. People rarely hugged her; she didn’t really enjoy physical closeness like other women did.
Mrs. Flannagan took a step back and looked at Kay, then at Elliot, with her hands clasped together in a pleading gesture. “Please, find the bastard who did that to my little girl and make him pay. Promise me, you will. She’ll never be the same again, my poor baby.” She sniffled and ran her hand quickly over her eyes. “But at least she’s alive. We’ll get her a therapist, anything she needs. They’re saying she’ll make a full recovery, but she was—” A sob rose in her chest, choking her. “Another hour, and my baby would’ve been gone.” She bit her lip, possibly in an attempt to control her tears. “Promise me he’ll pay.”
“He will,” Kay replied. “We won’t stop until he’s caught.”
“What’s that I’m hearing on the news, about poor Jenna. There were two of them?”
“Not with Kendra, no.” Kay squeezed the woman’s hand. “I promise you that.”
On the short drive to the morgue, Kay wondered if they could keep their word. Where was Richard Gaskell, and why wasn’t he taking the bait?
“I would’ve expected Gaskell senior to land on our doorstep by now, with some stack of papers or another. A gag order, a planned surrender, anything to help with his son’s situation. He should know a wanted fugitive is at risk of getting shot.”
