Read Online Detective Wade Jackson Mystery - 01 - The Sex Club by L. J. Sellers - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: L. J. Sellers
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last night. After that, we interview friends and family. I made lists.” After Judy Davenport’s sister had come over, the grieving mother had calmed down and become more cooperative. With prodding, she had provided a list of people who knew her daughter.
Jackson handed out the paperwork as he spoke. “Evans, I want you to talk to Jessie’s teachers and family. McCray, you hit all the neighbors, and Schak, you talk to the church members.” Jackson flipped through his notebook for the search warrants. “I’ll interview Jessie’s close friends: Angel Strickland, Rachel Greiner, and Nicole Clarke. They all attend Kincaid Middle School.” Jackson wondered if he should assign Evans to interview his daughter. Did Katie know anything? Probably not. Katie and Jessie hadn’t hung out in six months. An eternity in teen time.
“Let’s meet back here at 5 p.m. sharp.”
Chapter 7
Wednesday, October 20, 11:13 a.m.
Jackson’s first stop was the Cricket store near the Gateway Mall. The mall was a busy retail development just across the line that divided Eugene from Springfield, its blue-collar sister city. The Cricket store manager, a pregnant woman who seemed young for the job, was flustered by the court order and called her district supervisor.
“There’s a cop here with a subpoena,” she whined, “and I don’t know what to do.” After a moment, she handed the phone to Jackson. He explained what he needed and extracted a promise from the supervisor that the records would be faxed to him within twenty-four hours.
As Jackson drove down Coburg Road, the late morning sun burned through the clouds. Another day of Indian summer, he thought, grateful for the change-of-season delay. He was happier and more productive when the sun was out.
Kincaid Middle School sat in the center of a busy south-side neighborhood with a mix of commercial and residential buildings. The school had a gray utilitarian look, with grass-only landscaping around the buildings. Not much had changed since Jackson had attended there almost thirty years ago. As a kid, what he’d liked best was the school’s proximity to the minor league baseball field where he’d watched the Ems play.
This morning, the school was quiet. No children were milling around and no cars were coming or going. Jackson felt a little guilty about pulling students out of class for a police interview; he knew how sensitive kids this age were about what their peers thought. But he needed to talk to Jessie’s friends now, without their parents around. It was the only way to get useful information.
Kincaid’s office had been remodeled and expanded, but the secretary, although new, seemed the same: middle-aged, a little pretty, a little plump, friendly on the surface, but instinctively wary. She looked at his badge closely when he offered it. Jackson respected that.
After looking up the girls’ schedules in the computer, she said, “Angel Strickland and Rachel Greiner are in biology class with Mrs. Berg, and Nicole Clarke is in advanced math with Mr. Abrams. I’ll bring them here to the office and find a place for you to talk.”
“Thanks.”
She used the intercom to summon the students, then led Jackson through a maze of filing cabinets to a short hallway. The secretary opened the first door on the left and said, “This is our vice-principal’s office. Mr. Ferguson is at a district meeting today, so you can borrow it.”
After five minutes in the small windowless office, the three girls appeared together at the open door. The thin one in front said, “You wanted to see us?”
Jackson’s first thought was how somber they seemed, then he remembered that they had just lost a friend. His second thought was that all three appeared conservative in comparison to current fads. No bellies showing. No cleavage. No unconventional piercings.
Jackson didn’t intend to interview them together, but he wanted to get a quick sense of the group dynamic, so he waved them all
Jackson handed out the paperwork as he spoke. “Evans, I want you to talk to Jessie’s teachers and family. McCray, you hit all the neighbors, and Schak, you talk to the church members.” Jackson flipped through his notebook for the search warrants. “I’ll interview Jessie’s close friends: Angel Strickland, Rachel Greiner, and Nicole Clarke. They all attend Kincaid Middle School.” Jackson wondered if he should assign Evans to interview his daughter. Did Katie know anything? Probably not. Katie and Jessie hadn’t hung out in six months. An eternity in teen time.
“Let’s meet back here at 5 p.m. sharp.”
Chapter 7
Wednesday, October 20, 11:13 a.m.
Jackson’s first stop was the Cricket store near the Gateway Mall. The mall was a busy retail development just across the line that divided Eugene from Springfield, its blue-collar sister city. The Cricket store manager, a pregnant woman who seemed young for the job, was flustered by the court order and called her district supervisor.
“There’s a cop here with a subpoena,” she whined, “and I don’t know what to do.” After a moment, she handed the phone to Jackson. He explained what he needed and extracted a promise from the supervisor that the records would be faxed to him within twenty-four hours.
As Jackson drove down Coburg Road, the late morning sun burned through the clouds. Another day of Indian summer, he thought, grateful for the change-of-season delay. He was happier and more productive when the sun was out.
Kincaid Middle School sat in the center of a busy south-side neighborhood with a mix of commercial and residential buildings. The school had a gray utilitarian look, with grass-only landscaping around the buildings. Not much had changed since Jackson had attended there almost thirty years ago. As a kid, what he’d liked best was the school’s proximity to the minor league baseball field where he’d watched the Ems play.
This morning, the school was quiet. No children were milling around and no cars were coming or going. Jackson felt a little guilty about pulling students out of class for a police interview; he knew how sensitive kids this age were about what their peers thought. But he needed to talk to Jessie’s friends now, without their parents around. It was the only way to get useful information.
Kincaid’s office had been remodeled and expanded, but the secretary, although new, seemed the same: middle-aged, a little pretty, a little plump, friendly on the surface, but instinctively wary. She looked at his badge closely when he offered it. Jackson respected that.
After looking up the girls’ schedules in the computer, she said, “Angel Strickland and Rachel Greiner are in biology class with Mrs. Berg, and Nicole Clarke is in advanced math with Mr. Abrams. I’ll bring them here to the office and find a place for you to talk.”
“Thanks.”
She used the intercom to summon the students, then led Jackson through a maze of filing cabinets to a short hallway. The secretary opened the first door on the left and said, “This is our vice-principal’s office. Mr. Ferguson is at a district meeting today, so you can borrow it.”
After five minutes in the small windowless office, the three girls appeared together at the open door. The thin one in front said, “You wanted to see us?”
Jackson’s first thought was how somber they seemed, then he remembered that they had just lost a friend. His second thought was that all three appeared conservative in comparison to current fads. No bellies showing. No cleavage. No unconventional piercings.
Jackson didn’t intend to interview them together, but he wanted to get a quick sense of the group dynamic, so he waved them all
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