Page 43 of Delivering David

Tate’s glare at Kristopher was openly hostile. “You’re an officer?”

“Deputized him myself,” Miller said cheerfully. “Although he does have a long and splendid history with the Knoxville Police Department. Now, before I drag your sorry ass down to the precinct, are you sure you want to waive your rights?” Miller paused for only a moment, but when Tate didn’t respond he continued. “Yes? Then you can start by telling us what you’ve done with the Clark and Campbell sisters.”

“And where the hell you stashed them,” Kristopher added.

Sergeant Ted Franklin and Bailey had surprised Tate as he broke into Allison Langley’s home, gun in hand scaring Sofia, Allison, and Alex to death. As expected from their previous meeting, Alex Langley identified Tate as the man who Stan Dembowski had given the bags of discs last week. The Thursday all of this had started.

Now they were seated at the Langley kitchen table while two other officers searched the house to be sure Tate, or someone else, hadn’t planted anymore incendiary devices. The Langleys were in the living room giving their statements about noticing Tate’s dark green car pass up and down the street several times before he broke in.

When Tate remained quiet, Miller stood. “Okay, Tate. You’re not talking after all? We already know most of it. We’re going to take a ride downtown and I’m putting you in the general population and have the officers casually mention why you’re there.”

“You can’t do that!” The handcuffed Tate half rose in his chair. “Someone might kill me!”

“Heard about what prisoners do to those they think hurt children?” Kristopher mocked. “They’ll have you for dinner and breakfast if they find out what your charges are.”

“Okay!” Tate slumped into his chair. “But I want special protection.”

“Talk,” Miller ordered. “Where are the Clark and Campbell sisters.”

“They’ll kill me if I tell you,” Tate protested.

“Talk!” Kristopher shouted. “You’ll probably be dead either way. Did you promise them to The Cadre? Or one of your sick friends?”

“Last time, Tate,” Miller warned. “Where are the girls?”

Tate choked out an address in East Knoxville close to downtown. As far he knew they were still there being guarded by two women. After Miller radioed in the information with a request that a social worker and a female officer accompany another officer to the scene, he looked back at the quietly sobbing Tate. “Ok, that’s good, Henry. Keep talking.”

Between sniffs and sobs, Henry Tate described how he’d been approached to find young girls in state custody, the prettier the better. Once found, he’d pass the information and be paid a great deal.

“You or someone you work with bugged the tables atDaisy’s,” Kristopher accused. As Tate’s mouth fell open, he added. “But I don’t think you’re smart enough for that. But you did it to listen to any possible conversations about kids in state care. That’s how you learned that Mercy Phillips suspected someone at the shelter was responsible for the Campbell and Clark girls vanishing.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Tate said but his face was the color of parchment.

“We found the bugs,” Miller continued. “And we know you took some of them from an employee atDaisy’snamed Stan.”

“You were seen taking a bag from him last Thursday afternoon,” Kristopher added. “And later that night Mercy Phillips was murdered in her home, and her son David hasn’t been seen since.”

“Whoever you gave the bag to listened to those recordings, heard Mercy’s suspicions and killed her or had her killed,” Miller said slowly. “So, you see, Tate, not only are you accused of finding and supplying children for immoral purposes, but you’re also an accessory to murder and kidnapping.”

“Oh my God,” Tate moaned. “Oh my God, I’m dead.”

“You were the Clark sisters case manager,” Kristopher continued. “Did the Taylors help you take them out of the shelter?”

“Yes,” Tate admitted.

“And after the Campbell sisters told Mercy on Christmas Eve that they saw the Taylors dragging the Clark sisters out, you and they arranged for the Campbell girls to ‘run away’,” Miller continued. “Did you kill Mercy Philips?”

“No!” Tate screamed. “I didn’t kill anybody! I just identified and transported the girls. And I didn’t touch them! I’m not a pervert!”

“Just helped the perverts get what they need,” Miller’s tone turned ugly. “You’re as bad as they are, Tate. Who’s behind this? And I promise you, if you lie to me about any of this, I will put you in the population so fast–”

“Tattersall,” Tate sobbed. “Charles Tattersall from Tennessee Cares. He’s working with some organization. I don’t know if they’re Mafia or something else but they’re damn scary and they will kill me if they know I’ve talked to you. You have to put me somewhere safe.”

“Holy sainted Mother of God.” Kristopher sat back in disbelief.The Regional CEO for Tennessee Cares. A man who has access to hundreds of children. Young children.“Why, Tate? Why betray your promise to help children? They trusted you. Lucinda Gonzalez probably trusted you. You better be glad she’s not here, because she would eat you alive. How much were you paid?”

“You don’t understand,” Tate sniveled. “I had student loans out my ass. I started gambling to try to pay them off, but I lost more than I won. I don’t know how Tattersall found out, but he approached me at a workshop and later offered to pay a big chunk of the debt–”

“If you became his personal pimp,” Miller interrupted.

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