A Necessary Evil

by Christina Kaye

  Mollie stared at her fingernails as she picked at the hot pink polish she had just applied with Laurel last night. She shrugged.

  “You don’t know? Or you don’t want to say?”

  Mollie knew, all right. Or at least, she had some idea of what her grandfather was up to, but mad as she was at him for causing what happened to her, she wasn’t about to sell out her pops. She still loved him, despite all the grief he’d caused.

  Detective Jamison turned again to her mother. “Kitty, I think it would be best if we spoke to Mollie alone. My partner, Detective Howard, is outside, and he’ll be more than happy to wait with you.”

  Kitty sat upright and shook her head vehemently. “No way. I’m not letting you question her alone. She’s my daughter. I don’t have to let you.”

  “Actually, Kitty, you do. Mollie is nineteen. She’s not a minor, so if I say I need to speak with her alone, you have two choices. You can either excuse yourself from this room for a few minutes and go talk to my partner, or you can continue to hinder a police investigation by refusing to let me take an official statement from the victim. In which case, I’ll have no choice but to charge you with obstruction of justice.”

  Mollie looked at her mother and watched for her reaction. Katherine Cartwright was a strong woman, but not even a strong woman could stand up to a detective when they were threatening to press criminal charges. She wondered what her mother would decide to do. Normally, she knew Kitty would call Pops and have him intervene, persuade, or even threaten the detectives, but they both knew damn well that Pops was unreachable at that moment.

  Kitty shook her head. “I don’t like this. Not one bit. I’m going to step outside, but not to talk to your partner. I’m calling my attorney. Surely the victim has rights.”

  “She does have rights,” Jamison said. “And as I’ve already said, she’s free to leave at any time. But I do need to get her official statement sooner rather than later.” He turned back to Mollie. “Mollie, will you cooperate with me? Or do you want to leave with your mother?”

  Now Mollie was torn. She didn’t want to go against her mother, but she knew that despite what the detective way saying, she really didn’t have a choice in the matter. If she didn’t give her statement now, she would have to at some point down the line. Besides, maybe if she gave it now, she could buy Pops some time. She still hadn’t forgiven him for being the reason she was kidnapped, but he was family, and she wasn’t about to let this detective—or anyone, for that matter—arrest him and throw him in prison for the rest of his life.

  “I’ll stay,” Mollie said without looking up at her mother. She was afraid of what she’d see in her face. Confusion? Hurt? Betrayal?

  “Well,” Kitty said, breaking the uncomfortable silence that seemed to stretch on after Mollie’s declaration, “I guess I’ll go call my lawyer, then. Mollie, don’t you let this detective push you around. Remember, the police are not your friends. They will try to manipulate you and tell you—”

  “All right, all right,” Detective Jamison said as he shooed her out the door. “That’s quite enough. I think she gets the picture.”

  Kitty tossed her heavily-highlighted hair over her shoulder, huffed, and exited the room, slamming the door behind her.

  The detective faced Mollie again and sat back in his chair. Mollie looked at him and thought she saw a vague resemblance to her pops. She now knew this man and Pops used to be best friends as children, and that they’d fallen out over something pretty serious years ago. But that was all she knew for sure.

  “Is there anything you’d like to say?” he finally asked her.

  “No.”

  “Well,” he reached into the inside pocket of his jacket and produced a small Dictaphone, “I need you to start at the beginning. Tell me everything that happened from the time you left Macy’s two days ago.”

  He set the little machine on the table between them, pressed RECORD, and sat back and crossed his arms, waiting for her to begin.

  She let out a long-held breath. “I clocked out at Macy’s right at ten thirty. I texted Mom and told her I was on my way home, then I walked out into the mall. I saw a few friends on the way out, and I stopped to talk to them for a minute.”

  “Who were these friends?”

  “Jillian Michaels and Leanne Richey from high school.”

  “Go on.”

  “Anyway, when I was done talking to them, I walked out of the mall and toward my car. Since I work at the mall, I’m supposed to park near the back to let the customers have room to park up front. I usually try to find a spot under a street lamp, but there weren’t any this time. I remember it was cold. Very cold. I didn’t bring a jacket, so I walked a little faster. When I got to my car, I accidentally dropped my keys. That’s when he—”

  “Collin McAllister?”

  “Yeah, I guess. I mean, I know that’s his name now, but I didn’t know him at all then. He came up behind me and put his hand over my mouth. He told me to do everything he said or he would kill me right there. I knew I was supposed to fight him. I’ve seen it on enough crime TV shows. But it’s easy to say that when you don’t have a gun pressed into your back.”

  “He had a gun?” The detective’s eyebrows raised.

  “Yeah. He jammed it in my back and made me climb into the back seat of my car. I didn’t want to do what he said.” Mollie choked back tears and swallowed the lump that was forming in her throat. “But he said he wouldn’t kill me if I did what he said. I know that was stupid now. But then…”

  “Do you need a tissue?” he asked kindly.

  “No, I’m fine.” She pulled her hand back up into her shirt sleeve and wiped the snot that was starting to drip from her nose.

  “Go ahead,” he said in a near whisper. “It’s okay.”

  “He drove my car for a while. I don’t know how long, but it seemed like forever. We stopped at some rundown grocery store. He said he had to pee, but it seemed like maybe he was looking for something. I jumped out of the car and tried to run so I could call 911, but he caught me and dragged me into the store. When he saw I was trying to call for help, he hit me on the top of my head with my cell phone then threw it down and stomped on it.”

  “Yes, we found your phone at the old grocery. That was very brave, Mollie.”

  Mollie wasn’t sure whether he was coddling her because he genuinely cared, or because he was trying to play Good Cop. It didn’t matter.

  “We got back in the car, and when we finally stopped for good, he pulled me out of the back seat. I tried to fight him then. I kicked and screamed as loud as I could, even though we were in the middle of the woods. It was stupid.”

  “It wasn’t stupid, Mollie. It’s called the fight or flight instinct. You chose to fight.”

  “Yeah, I guess.”

  “What happened next?”

  “He made me go down into the…the…”

  “The bunker.”

  “Yeah. That thing. But he called it The Vault. I didn’t want to go, but what was I supposed to do? I was out there all alone, and when I’d screamed before, he’d hit me again with the butt of his gun. That’s how I got this big cut right here.”

  She lightly touched the tender, raw wound on her forehead. It had scabbed over by now, but it still hurt like a bitch.

  “Tell me what happened while you were down in the bunker.” The detective shifted in his seat and crossed one leg over the other, the same way her grandfather sat sometimes.

  She shrugged. “He chained me to the wall.” Mollie could still feel the cold steel shackles on her ankles and the bruises they had left behind. “I don’t know how long I was down there. He spent most of his time sleeping, reading, or yelling at me about—”

  Mollie clamped her mouth shut. She had almost said too much. She had vowed to not even mention her grandfather during her statement. There was no way to know how much the detective already knew about what Pops had done to Collin’s father, but by God, it wasn’t going to come from her.
/>   “About what?” He set his leg back down and leaned forward again with his elbows on the table. “Mollie…you were about to say something. What was he yelling at you about?”

  Mollie sat back in her chair and crossed her arms over her chest. Butterflies fluttered around in her belly, and her heartrate was rapidly increasing. “I don’t remember.”

  “Come on, Mollie.” The detective’s tone changed from soft and low to sharp and loud. After staring at her for a beat, his eyes lit up. “Oh, my God. He told you about what your grandfather did to his father, didn’t he?”

  “No. I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she lied as she looked away from the detective, who was now staring right at her.

  “Mollie, cut the crap. Listen. No matter what your grandfather did all those years ago, it didn’t give Collin McAllister the right to do this to you. Don’t get me wrong. I feel sorry for you. You’re definitely the victim in this whole thing. But don’t try to tell me you don’t know where Frankie took Collin. I know you know more than you’re saying.”

  “No, I don’t.” She couldn’t look at the detective. He knew she was lying, but she was afraid if she looked in his eyes, she might be tempted to tell him everything, so she stared at the wall to her right. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  The door to the interview room swung open, and Kitty was standing there with a young man who couldn’t have been thirty. In fact, he was kind of good-looking. He reminded Mollie of a younger Ryan Gosling.

  “Let’s go, Mollie,” Kitty said.

  “Ms. Cartwright, I already told you, I’ll charge you with—”

  “You won’t be charging my client with anything. Not today, anyway. Not without proof.”

  So, the attractive young man was Kitty’s boss, the attorney. Mollie had never met anyone from the law office where Kitty worked, but she was gladder than ever of her mother’s chosen profession. She glanced at the detective, who looked like he was about to explode with anger. Mollie could tell he wanted to say something, but couldn’t find the right words.

  “Come on, Mollie,” the young man said. “We’re leaving.”

  Mollie stood from her cold chair and shuffled over to the doorway. As she passed by the detective, whose vein was throbbing at his temple, she looked at him and said, “Sorry.”

  She didn’t know why she said it. Was it because she knew he was only doing his job? Or was it because of the guilt she felt at helping her grandfather get away with murder? She wasn’t sure, and it really didn’t matter. She was in this now, and there was no getting out.

  Chapter 26

  Collin

  Franklin stood before the jury with his hands in his pockets. He seemed so casual, as if he didn’t have a care in the world. Collin knew it was because he didn’t. Franklin knew the jury would find him guilty. This whole “trial” was a sham. The old man was going to get his way in the end, but by allowing the so-called jury to make the decision for him, he could place the responsibility for Collin’s death at their feet, rather than at his own. At least, that was the only explanation he could come up with as to why Franklin didn’t just go ahead and kill him and be done with it. Especially since he knew that detective was looking for him and might show up any minute with a SWAT team.

  As Franklin gave the jury their admonition about how to deliberate and not-so-subtly hinted at the outcome he was hoping for, Collin found himself praying for the first time in a long time. He prayed the police would find him before this whole farce was over with. He prayed that, by some miracle or act of God, the jury might actually find him not guilty. He prayed that if he was found guilty, the penalty they imposed would at least be swift and painless. But deep down, he knew all his prayers were futile. Franklin was going to get what he wanted in the end, which meant Collin’s hours were numbered.

  When Franklin finished his dramatic soliloquy, he turned to Collin, jerked him up by the elbow, and led him past the jury and toward the door at the back of the warehouse.

  “Where are you taking me?” Collin asked. His heart was racing as Franklin dragged him through the doorway.

  “Don’t worry,” Franklin said with a satisfied smile. “I’m not going to kill you. Not yet, anyway. We just need to give the jury some privacy to deliberate.”

  Franklin opened another door which led to what had apparently once been an office of some sort. He shoved Collin down into a padded chair in the corner of the room, then walked around a large desk and sat in the black leather rolling chair behind it.

  A large metal filing cabinet sat behind the desk, many of its drawers open and empty. On top of the desk was an old, green lamp. There was nothing else in the room besides a clock hanging on the wall which had apparently stopped telling time at twelve thirty-five many years prior.

  “So,” Franklin kicked his legs up on the desk and crossed one foot over the other, “how do you think the trial is going so far?”

  Collin didn’t answer. The last thing he wanted to do was chit chat with the man who wanted to kill him slowly. He stiffened his jaw and looked toward the window to his left. When he saw it, he instantly wondered if he could break the glass and escape before Franklin could stop him.

  The old man must have read his mind. “I wouldn’t even bother if I were you. It’s tempered glass. Not easy to break. And besides, Bruno’s waiting right outside this door with a gun. He’ll shoot you in the back before you get through to the other side. Not quite the way I want you to die, but I guess if you push me, I’ll have no choice.”

  Collin looked at Franklin with contempt burning in his eyes. His nostrils flared, and he felt heat emanating from his skin. He balled his hands up and squeezed them tightly. There was nothing else he could do.

  “Oh, calm down, Collin. It’ll all be over soon enough.”

  “Just kill me and get it over with,” Collin growled.

  “I would,” Franklin said with a Cheshire Cat grin, “but what would be the fun in that? Besides, you deserve much, much worse than a quick and painless death.”

  “Why do you care? Those girls meant nothing to you.”

  “First, I do care. I didn’t know those girls, but I know what it feels like to lose someone you love to a monster. Second, it’s not just about them. You thought you could use my granddaughter to manipulate me into doing what you wanted. That was your worst mistake.”

  “I didn’t kill her.”

  “No,” Franklin said with a tilt of his head. “You didn’t kill her. But you kidnapped her, took her to your creepy little lair, and chained her to the wall like an animal. Not to mention the fact that you would have killed her, had I not shown up when I did. I can’t let you get away with that.”

  Collin’s shoulder throbbed, and he wondered if it was becoming infected since he’d had no antibiotics and barely any bandaging. He drew in a deep breath and let it out. “All right. You win. What do you want from me?” He hated to grovel, but it might be his only chance to get out of this alive if that detective didn’t find him in time.

  Franklin threw back his head and let out a deep, throaty laugh. When he was done, he shook his head. “There’s nothing you can say or do to stop this, so accept your fate. It’s your best option. You must pay for everything you’ve done.”

  “And what about you?” Collin asked, anger suddenly overcoming his nervousness.

  “Me?” Franklin put his hand to his chest. “What about me?”

  “What about what you’ve done? You’re no innocent victim. You killed my father in cold blood!”

  “I only did what any man in my position would have done. Any man with balls, that is. Most people talk about getting revenge when their loved one is murdered, but I took action.” He lowered his feet to the ground and leaned forward with his palms on the desk. “Your father kidnapped, raped, and murdered my girlfriend. She was only eighteen. You might not know what it’s like to love someone, but I do. She wasn’t only the love of my life, we grew up together. And your father treated her worse than a
n animal. He used her and killed her and dumped her body in the river. Now, you tell me that your father didn’t get exactly what he deserved.”

  Collin couldn’t argue. He knew what his father had been. But that didn’t give Franklin Cartwright the right to execute him. All the grief and misery Collin had experienced throughout his life came as a result of this man’s actions.

  “What? Cat got your tongue?” Franklin asked.

  “What do you want me to say? That I’m sorry? Would it make a difference?”

  “It might,” Franklin said matter-of-factly.

  Suddenly, Collin felt as if there might be hope for him. Could it really be that simple? He wasn’t sorry. Not one bit. But if saying he was meant staying alive, why on earth would he not at least try? He sighed heavily.

  “All right. I’m sorry.”

  “For…”

  “I’m sorry for what my father did to your girlfriend. I’m sorry for taking your granddaughter and for hurting her.”

  There was a moment of pregnant silence. Collin stared at his feet. He couldn’t look up at Franklin, afraid he’d see how insincere he was. The more time that went by without the detective banging down the door and rescuing him, the less likely it became that he would make it out of this warehouse alive. Not only that, he knew he would suffer tremendously. So, if it meant he got to live, it was worth it.

  After a few more seconds dragged on, Collin lifted his head and looked at the old man. He was staring at Collin with squinted eyes as if he were really considering what he’d said. Maybe it had worked. Maybe that was all he’d wanted to hear all along. For the first time since Franklin had dragged him out of The Vault, he felt like there might be hope for him.

  Finally, his eyebrows narrowed, and he opened his mouth to speak. “Do you really think sorry is enough? Do you really think there are any words you could say that would make up for the pain and misery you’ve caused, not only me and Addie’s family, but six other families, as well?”