Page 70 of Sinful Seduction
“I do.” She chokes on her breath. “I know what happened.”
“Stop!” Tori snarls. “Right now.”
“You won’t understand,” Molly groans. “You can’t.”
“You need to go.” Tori shoves away from her friend and brushes us back. She’s small, and she has tears in her lashes. But she’s fiery and firm. “You have not recited Miranda rights. You have not sought permission to question her. She’s still a minor, which makes everything she’s said inadmissible in court.” She herds me back, her hands on my chest. Her fingers latch onto Fletch’s shirt. “You have nothing.”
“I’m not recording.” I raise my hands and show her:empty. “I’vewritten nothing down. You’re right, there were no Miranda rights. She’s a minor, and she has a right to legal and parental representation.” I look over the top of her head and latch onto Molly’s tear-filled gaze. “There is nogotchamoment, kid. I’m here for answers. And to give you a chance to straighten yourself out before the recorders are on. We know what happened.”
Tori’s hands falter.
“That’s the thing about adults questioning kids. Nine times out of ten, we already know the truth. We’re just giving you the opportunity to tell it to us from your point of view.”
“We’ll come back tomorrow.” Fletch pauses in front of me, rubbing his jaw. “I have a daughter, Molly. I have a little girl who has seen some shit she shouldn’t, and whose life I would protect, no matter the price. If she found herself in fifteen years—twenty years… doesn’t matter how many years—in a situation that maybe she can’t control, or one where she needs help, I hope she tells me the truth. Only then can I help her. Your dad is flying blind tonight, and he’s gonna crash and burn because of it. But you have the power to make things better. Youknowhe’ll take care of business, andIknow you don’t want to be the reason he slips. Right now, you’re holding your hands over his eyes.”
“Come on.” I turn on my heels and step into the hall, faltering when, at the opposite end, Grant pauses in the middle of the corridor and hurriedly rearranges his expression. From rage to business casual. From fear to poker face. He sizes me up, scanning me from top to toe, then he looks to Fletch and Clay right after. So I use his momentary distraction and poke my head back into Molly’s room, catching their panicked attention. “He’s on his way in, kiddo. Wipe your face and figure out what you’re gonna say. Then call me when you’re ready. I can help you.”
“Detectives.” Grant Freemon is good at what he does, pasting on a smile and moving along the hall at a brisk pace. He extends his hand and claps his palm against mine. But it’s all in his eyes. The fury. The fear. The pain. “Everything okay here?”
“Everything is good. Just wanted to check in on how Molly is doing.”
He looks past me, holding my hand, and peeks into the room to make sure she’s where she’s meant to be. Then he brings his focus back around and releases me. “Good. The surgeon says she might go home in a day or two.” He swallows and looks Fletch’s way. “That’s good news, huh?”
“It sure is.”
“They said she’s to lie down and do absolutely nothing.” He fakes achuckle. “She’ll be waited on like the princess she is. She won’t like it, but if she promises to behave, they’ll sign the discharge papers.”
“Home is where we heal fastest.” Fletch slips his hands into his pockets. “We’re just headed out, unless there’s something you wanted to discuss…?”
“Nah. I’m here to see my baby.” Grant takes a step back. “Have a good evening, detectives. Maybe we’ll see you tomorrow.”
“I’m sure you will.” I turn on my heels and wait the two seconds—three, four—before the sound of Molly’s room door closing echoes along the hall, then as Fletch jogs and catches up.
“We don’t have CCTV of Molly and Tori together on the night of the shooting.”
“Nope. But they don’t know that, and the fact that they didn’t call me out on it proves I was right. Tori’s a ride or die best friend, but I’m not sure either of them truly understands how permanent dying is.”
“You think she’s gonna talk?” Clay walks quickly, striding to keep up with my pace. “Molly, sir. You think she’ll give up the shooter?”
“Yep.” We round the corner and slow in front of the elevator. Tapping the call button, I glance back at the officer who still needs a little practice. “I think she’ll give it up. I still haven’t figured out how to present this case to the DA, though, and I know, deep down, there’s a reasonable explanation for why she pulled the trigger. I just need to figure it out.”
“She…” His eyes flare wide. “She’sthe shooter, sir? Molly?”
“Mmhm.” I stride into the opening elevator and select the ground floor. “And she’s sorry for it. She loved him. But she loves her dad more. You clocking out now, or…” I extend my arm across the sensor to keep the doors open and my eyes on the studious Officer Clay, still outside. “You’ve been here awhile.”
“I’ve got another couple of hours in me, Detective.” He takes a step back and dips his chin. “New shift starts at nine, so I’ll stick around till handover. Then I’ll come back in the morning and maybe catch the details you’ve figured out that I haven’t yet.”
“Don’t be so hard on yourself.” Fletch grins. “It takes years and experience to think up the wildest bullshit and have it actually turn out to be the truth. Detective Malone is just more skilled at that than your average Joe.”
I drop my arm and warm the side of my partner’s face with my irritated scowl. “Keep an eye on them, Clay. Don’t speak to them, and for the love of God, don’t spook them. We’ll tie this up tomorrow. She’s gonna call.”
“Molly will call?”
“Yep.” I tip my chin and wait for the doors to close us in, then I look at Fletch. “She’s gonna call.”
“Or she’ll run.” He takes out his phone, all casual and shit, and swipes the screen. “She knows you know. She might pack up and hit the road before we get back in the morning.”
“Nah.” Since we have time, and since he’s busy checking in on Fifi, I snag my phone and navigate to my texts, discovering the slew of rocks in my inbox. “She’s gonna call. I know it.”
