Page 29 of Sinful Chaos

“He’s the worst kind of perp,” Franklin growls. “But the times hehasn’tgone to prison was because the case was screwed up, or the proof wasn’t significant enough.”

I flip the file closed and hope I don’t dream of Fentone’s black eyes tonight. “Seeing as how you’re the detective, Detective,” I sit back in my chair and lace my fingers together in my lap, “I’ll urge you not to mess this case up.”

“I’m doing my best.” He drops back into his chair and studies me across the top of my desk. “I swear, I’m gonna put him away, but he says he has an alibi, and, on the surface, it checks out.”

“So he didn’t do it?” I look to Aubree as though to askwhat the hell. “Hedidn’thurt Chelsea?”

“He absolutely hurt her,” Franklin snaps. “This was him, Doctor Mayet, but he’s paid a buddy to cover for him. So I need you to do your medical examiner thing and give me something to nail him with. His skin under her nails? A pubic hair? Spit? Semen? I needsomethingto take to a judge and have Fentone put away for the rest of his miserable life.”

I scoff, more pessimistic than usual. “For life? You mean for five to seven years, during which he’ll act properly and earn computer privileges from the warden that’ll provide him the opportunity to whack off to images of children on the internet? After a few cushy years, he’ll be released to society once more, and the cycle will restart.”

“Well…” Franklin sets his elbows on his knees and exhales a defeated sigh. “You sound how I feel, Chief. But I can only do the job and close the cell door. I can only do my best and get the conviction. After that, it’s out of my hands.” He nods toward the file between us. “Can you get me something from a medical standpoint? I need it to be solid, unbreakable, and I need it today.”

“She had a sticky residue on her fingers,” Aubree murmurs.

When I glance up, she adds, “We sent it to the lab for testing, we’re still waiting for those results. But if we’re lucky, maybe she tagged him somehow.”

“The moment we have the results, they’ll be on your desk, Detective Franklin.” Standing, I offer my hand and wait for him to shake it. “How certain are you?”

“Hm?” He pumps once. Twice. Then frowns when my words filter through his brain. “What?”

“Fentone.” I drop my hand by my side and study the man across from me. “How certain are you that it was him? What other proof do you have?”

“He lives by the girl’s school, where he’s seen loitering at the gate every afternoon. He’s brushed by Chelsea’s mother more than a couple of times at the local twenty-four-hour store, and according to her, when Chelsea’s by her side, he tries to talk to her. Gets down on her level and asks questions.”

“What kind of questions?” My stomach bubbles with an ache that makes me sick. “Where her school is?”

“Nah, like her favorite candy. What teddy she takes to bed at night.”

Beside me, Aubree’s lips peel back into a sneer. “He’s a total creep.”

“He’s worse than a creep,” Franklin agrees. “And the mother’s statement places Fentone in the same store, same neighborhood, and outside the same school as Chelsea on several occasions in the last month alone. He’s talked to her, and each time, he’s offered candy.”

“Sticky fingers!” With a shot of adrenaline pulsing in my veins, I snatch up a pen and a pad of paper and offer them to Franklin. “What kind of candy? Write it down, but don’t tell me.”

“D-don’ttell you?” He holds the pen ready above the page. “Why not?”

“Because she doesn’t want your answer to color her findings,” Aubree fills in. “She doesn’t want to go into those reports with a bias, searching for that one ingredient and ignoring other, possibly more important details.”

“Oh…” Nodding, he starts writing. “Okay. I won’t say. According to Mom, each time they crossed paths, it was always the same type. His signature fucking flavor. Find this candy under her nails, and I’ll try my luck with a judge.”

Pressing a fast period to the page, he tears the sheet of paper off the pad and folds it once, twice, three times. Then he offers it to Aubree. “Help me tie this up, Doctors. You’d be doing all of society a favor.”

“What about his alibi?” I watch as Aubree slips the paper into her pocket; she won’t look, no matter how tempting the answer is. Bringing my eyes back to Franklin, I ask, “Who is the friend? How do they know each other? What has he got to gain by lying?”

Franklin chuckles and sets my pen down on the desk. “You sound like a cop, Doctor Mayet. Anyone ever tell you that?”

I don’t laugh. I don’t even crack a smile. “I’ve been told that a couple of times. The friend?”

“They both work outta this parolee place, where dudes with a jacket go to work after prison. It’s a manufacturing warehouse that packages snacks.”

I scowl. “Snacks?”

He nods. “Chips. Cereal bars. Protein snacks. That sort of stuff.”

“Do they pack… candy, by chance?”

He grins. “They do. I already checked. This friend spent time with Fentone in prison, and now they’re both out and have a loyalty to each other.”

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