Elusive Justice (Kensington-Gerard Detective series Book 2)

by K. T. Roberts

  “How’s that?”

  “I suppose I shouldn’t be telling you this, especially since Harold is gone, but he was a nervous kind of father. He wanted Jake to rise above the rest of the boys in his class and when he didn’t, Harold decided a home schooling program was the answer.” She shrugged. “Jake was always worried he wasn’t smart enough for his father. I think it was Harold pushing him to be the best at what he did.”

  “Did he mistreat the boy?”

  “Oh, goodness, no. Not that I’m aware of. I never saw any bruise marks on the boy. They were very close. That’s about all I know.”

  “Alright, Ms. Stone,” Zach said. “We’re going to leave now, but if you think of anything that might help, please contact me right away.” Zach handed her his business card.

  “Thank you, I will.”

  The two detectives walked back outside and entered their unmarked car. “She’s a pretty lady,” McGee said.

  “You thought she was pretty, McGee? I thought she was a mess.” He frowned, “Hey, I thought you were married?”

  “What does that have to do with anything? Just because I have a ring on my finger doesn’t mean I can’t appreciate the good looks of another woman.”

  Disgusted, Zach tipped his head to the side his brows raising above his sunglasses, “Let me tell you something, McGee. You can do what you want on your own time, but when you’re working a case with me or any other detective in this agency, don’t you ever ogle another person of interest.”

  “Was there something wrong with appreciating her good looks?”

  “I’ll report you to the Lieutenant, McGee. So don’t go getting cute with me.”

  “So noted, sir.”

  CHAPTER THREE

  DETECTIVE JESSIE KENSINGTON filled her mug with hot coffee and weaved through the crowded department back to her desk opposite her partner, Bud Reece. File cabinets lined the walls from one end to the other, unfiled folders piled on top in a messy, disorganized manner. She’d seen them a million times, but today the disorganization stuck in her craw, resentful that she’d left the two-one for this place. She sipped the coffee and made a face—its burnt taste lingering on her tongue, she popped a piece of peppermint gum into her mouth instead.

  Jessie looked around the department at her male counterparts and released a low groan. She was the sole woman in her unit. It made her wonder if her new boss had given her the job because of Affirmative Action. Bud Reece, her new partner, threw a glance her way then unwrapped a sandwich. She figured Bud to be in his late forties, early fifties. He was tall and slender with a shiny bald head. She wasn’t sure if he’d intentionally polished it or his glands were working overtime. The one thing she did know though was that his years of negativity had left a deeply embedded groove between his brows from his consistent scowl. The fact that she’d replaced his former partner, who’d been killed in the line of duty, made her all the more vulnerable to Bud’s sly remarks. She hadn’t expected any special treatment when she took the assignment, but she hadn’t counted on being regarded as a rookie either—certainly not with eleven years in law enforcement. That had to count for something.

  She released a sigh and scooted her chair under her desk. Maybe taking the job in Missing Persons was a mistake after all. It had been Lieutenant Harwell, her former boss, who’d found her the job after he’d learned it was his wife who’d been sending Jessie the threatening letters. Although Jessie knew she had enough grounds to file a complaint against Ginny Harwell, she didn’t feel jail time was what the jealous wife needed—she needed therapy.

  Oddly enough, Jessie understood Ginny’s insecurities all too well, especially after Harwell had broken off with her and married Ginny, his pregnant one-night stand. She too had been angry and jealous, but certainly not enough to harass the woman. She shrugged. Regardless, the move had been for all the right reasons now that she was dating her former partner, Zach Gerard.

  Her new partner, Bud, had a loyal following of peers who supported him. Couple that with her being the new kid on the block who’d replaced a detective killed in the line of duty, and she had a tough road ahead.

  Releasing a hefty sigh, Jessie was reminded that every job had a downside, but she wished it didn’t always fall on her shoulders.

  When she’d complained to Zach about her peers treating her like a rookie, he had suggested she needed to be more patient with the guys on the new job by telling her things would get better once they got to know her. After four months though, she had hoped for more, but could see the handwriting on the wall, and Bud Reece wasn’t about to make her feel all warm and fuzzy. Certainly not after his boss had denied his request to partner with another guy in the department. But that did not happen and he wound up with her instead. Jessie opened a file folder.

  If it hadn’t been for Abby Cavanaugh, the young clerk in the typing pool, she’d have no friends on the job—not that she ever really had any on the job—certainly not female, but without Zach around, it was nice to have a female in whom she could confide. There was little doubt that leaving the two-one had been traumatic. Jessie convinced herself that dating Zach, regardless of their differences about living together, was a small price to pay; that’s why she’d agreed to go back to the way things were before. Being friends with benefits wasn’t a hardship by any stretch of the imagination.

  Nevertheless, she was going to act cheerful and hope she would win them over.

  After eleven years in homicide, this wasn’t the kind of job you moved into easily, and certainly not a job without additional training. Although she hadn’t had one of those bad cases she’d heard about yet, she hadn’t counted on the amount of abducted children, nor the statistics showing not all were returned to their parents unharmed. She’d been warned not to get too deeply involved with the parents of the missing children because if the child was found dead, or not found, blaming herself for not doing enough was a heavy burden to carry around and would most likely cause frequent bouts of depression. She’d never been one to simply pass it off as another day in the line of duty and hoped she could get used to it the same way she did with homicides. In training, she’d heard that some parents, who’d been told their children were most likely dead, were still calling in claiming to have seen their child on the street. It made her shudder. This job was like the Heartbreak Hotel.

  Shifting her attention over to Bud, she watched as he unwrapped his sandwich and laid it down on his desk when his phone rang. A stray strand of hair fell into her eyes and she brushed her fly-away hair away deciding it was time for the scrunchie. She smoothed back her hair with her hands, removed the scrunchie she kept on her wrist and pulled the stretchy part over top, pulling the ponytail apart to make it tighter to her head. When his call ended, he bit into his sandwich and stopped chewing mid-way.

  “No good, huh?” Jessie asked trying to make conversation.

  He didn’t respond, but gave her a dirty look as his fingers pulled something out of the side of his mouth. “Keep that friggin’ hair of yours up in a ponytail.” He held the hair out for her to see. “I don’t appreciate having your goddamn hair in my lunch.”

  “Sorry,” Jessie said, “Want me to buy you another sandwich?”

  “No,” he said, tossing the sandwich into the trash. “I’ve lost my appetite.”

  Jessie got up from her desk and walked into the large room that housed the civilian secretarial pool. Abby was typing. She stopped when she saw Jessie.

  “How are you today?” she asked.

  “I’m okay,” Jessie answered in a rueful voice, sitting down on the chair by her desk.

  “Not having a good morning with Mr. Warmth, huh?”

  “I’m afraid not.” She made a face. “He found a piece of my hair in his sandwich.”

  “Oh geez.” Abby grinned. “I swear it couldn’t happen to a nicer guy.”

  “Yeah, right?” Jessie snickered. “Am I stopping you from doing something important?”

  “No. I’ve been working on this
report since yesterday and it’s pretty depressing. I think I’m ready for a lunch break. Want to join me?”

  “Sure, let me get my purse.” She stood to leave. “I’ll meet you at the usual place?”

  “No. I’ll wait by the elevator.”

  Jessie walked back to her desk to tell Bud she was leaving, but his chair was empty. She left him a note and headed toward the elevator where Abby was waiting.

  Abby Cavanaugh was a tall pretty blonde, shoulder length hair, deep green eyes and a pleasant smile. Despite her good looks, Jess could see that she had sadness in her eyes. She hadn’t wanted to broach the subject hoping Abby would tell her, but she hadn’t volunteered any information.

  Having a female friend was such a new experience for Jessie, she wasn’t sure how to act at times. She watched Abby push the down button for the elevator. Hiking her purse higher on her shoulder Jess entered the elevator when the doors opened.

  “I’ve got the munchies today,” Abby said in the crowded elevator.

  “Me too. Probably PMS,” Jessie whispered in a low voice. A few women who’d heard her nodded in agreement. “So what did you do this weekend?”

  “I hung out with my boyfriend. I didn’t feel like going out so we watched movies on Netflix and ate popcorn.”

  “That sounds like fun.”

  “How about you?” she asked.

  “We did the same thing. Being around so many people all week, we really like to hide out. Zach has a beautiful place near the water in City Island. He grilled steaks, I made a salad and we ate and drank wine.” Jess snickered. “Well, I drank wine, he drank beer.”

  “Yeah, Richard is like that too.”

  The two exited the building and stopped at the street corner waiting for the light to change. The warm spring air caressed Jessie’s cheeks and brought a smile to her face. Looking around, she was happy to see the long overdue budding trees after the long winter they’d had. Following behind the hustle bustle of the crowd, they walked along unaffected by the fumes from the vehicles a few feet away, ignored the orchestra of honking horns, and rubbed elbows with every nationality in the League of Nations. Yes, that was a day in the life of a New Yorker who became so accustomed to the surroundings, it was a non-issue. The light changed and they crossed over with the crowd. The smell of food permeating the air had some tipping their heads back to inhale the aroma as though they’d be able to tell which smell appealed to them more. In the food court, employees from each fast food place stood in front of their counters carrying a tray of samples to lure the customers to them.

  Abby looked at Jess and smiled, reached for her hand and gave it a squeeze. “I like you Jess.”

  “Aww, thank you, Abby, I like you too. Hell, if it wasn’t for you, I’d go stark raving mad. You’ve helped me a lot, and it’s always nice having someone to talk to when I’m having a frustrating day.”

  “Yeah, I know what you mean.”

  Deciding they wanted a hoagie, they stood in line until it was their turn. Finding a table was always a challenge, but Abby waited patiently nearby and made an unswervingly dash for a table emptying. When she saw Jess, she waved her arms in the air so she’d find her.

  “That was a lucky break,” Jess said.

  “You have no idea,” Abby said exhaustively and released a slight chuckle. Unwrapping their sandwiches, Jess took a bite from hers.

  “Boy, I’m really hungry today,” she said chewing. Now that she knew Abby liked her, Jess felt more confident about asking the nagging question. She broached the subject “Are you okay?”

  “Yeah. Why do you ask?” Abby inquired.

  “Because I see sadness in your eyes and it makes me want to cheer you up. I don’t mean to pry, but is it something to do with work? Your life?”

  Abby shrugged. “Unfortunately, I carry around a lot of baggage and regrets from my childhood. I don’t mind telling you, but I don’t ever want to take advantage of our friendship.”

  Jess narrowed her eyes in a frown. “In what way?”

  “Did you know that half of the women in the typing pool work at Missing Persons because they either know a child, have a child, or a relative who’s been abducted?”

  “No!” Jess said in shock. “I had no idea. Are you one of them?”

  Abby nodded as she forced the air from her lungs, cleared her throat and continued. “I am. When I was much younger, my brother Justin was abducted from the Kings Plaza shopping mall in Brooklyn. That’s where we lived at the time.” She swallowed her food and took a sip of soda. “It was during a time when I was a very selfish pre-teen. I remember it like it was yesterday. My parents were going out that night and Mom wanted a new dress. She’d insisted I come with her to watch my little brother. I was on my way to my friend’s house to meet some boys when mom stopped me. Naturally, I put up a fuss, but she didn’t care. I was going with her and there were no if, ands or buts. I was so angry that she’d pulled rank on me, I decided I was going to make her sorry she’d ruined my fun, so I did what most pre-teens did. I pouted the entire ride there, even taking it out on my little brother. The poor kid,” her eyes misted, “he’d always idolized me even when I was mean to him.”

  “How old did you say he was?” Jessie’s stomach cramped hearing her story.

  “Almost four.” Abby took her napkin and blotted the moisture around her eyes. “Mom made us sit on the sofa outside the dressing room while she tried on clothes. Justin wanted me to draw on his Etch-a-Sketch that he’d brought with him and I refused, and anything else he’d suggested. I was so evil I even told him how much I hated him and called him names.” Tears rolled down her cheeks and she swiped them with her napkin. Putting her sandwich down on the paper, she continued. “That seemed to work for a while then he began to do silly stuff trying to get me to laugh. But I shoved him away instead until he finally cried. I got a few dirty looks from people passing by but I didn’t care.” She rested her chin on her hand. “Kids can be so selfish without realizing what they’re doing,” she shrugged again, “they don’t realize the impact their actions have that can last a lifetime.” She lowered her head. “I wasn’t very nice.” She paused for a minute to compose herself and continued.

  “By now, Justin was wailing. The more I thought about those looks, the more guilt I felt. So I finally said I’d play a game. He wanted to play hide-and-go-seek. I didn’t really think the department store was the right place to play that game, but because I’d said no to everything else, I agreed. He always liked to hide and have me find him.”

  Jessie was struggling to swallow the food in her mouth as she listened to Abby continue.

  “I hid my eyes and began counting to ten. That was the last time I ever saw my brother.” Her tears came more readily now, streaming down like a torrential downpour.” She blotted her eyes with her wet napkin and wiped her nose. “I searched everywhere for him hoping to find him before my mother came out, but he was gone. I finally had to tell my mother, and she went berserk. And that’s when my parents stopped loving me.”

  Jessie reached over to touch Abby’s hand hoping it gave her comfort. “I’m sure you felt that way, but I can’t imagine that being the case.”

  “No, Jessie. They did hate me. My father started drinking heavily and then he finally left because he couldn’t take the heartache. After he was gone, my mother’s depression destroyed the both of us. About two months after Dad was gone, I came home from school one day to find my mother had bled out on my bed from slashing her wrists. She even left me a note telling me Justin’s disappearance was all my fault and she wished it had been me instead of him.”

  Abby began sobbing uncontrollably. Jessie grabbed a handful of napkins, and then slid out of her seat and shoved in next to her trying to console her.

  “I am so sorry.” Jessie said, her heart aching for the girl. Tears filled her own eyes. She leaned over and hugged Abby tightly. “Your mother wasn’t thinking clearly. I’m sure she didn’t mean to be so awful to you. I know it’s a hard thing to forge
t, but you can’t let it destroy you. You have to believe your mother didn’t mean it. Anyone who takes their life and leaves a note to cause the other person pain has a lot more than depression going on.”

  Jessie noticed a few customers glancing Abby’s way every once in a while. She leaned in to block Abby from their view. “Why did the department stop the investigation?”

  “They had no more evidence or leads.”

  “Did you look through binders to see if anyone you saw at the mall was in there?”

  “Yes. I looked through binders upon binders of faces and didn’t see anyone that looked anything like the people I saw.” She blew her nose. “I do have muted images of those faces giving me dirty looks, yet my nightmares are crystal clear. After those nightmares, I come into work and rush to the binders to take another look through convinced I’d missed a picture the first one hundred times I looked. Everywhere I go, I pray I’ll see one of them, or maybe I’ll see my brother, but nothing ever materializes. Like the others, I work at Missing Persons so I can continue my search.”

  “Have you joined any of the organizations or groups to talk about it?”

  “Yes. Fortunately, the other clerks and I have a weekly meeting that is run by a psychologist. That has helped some, but the minute I start reading the files, it brings me right back to where I started.” Abby blinked her eyes shut tightly. “I have to find him, Jessie. I’ll never stop searching . . . never.” She took another sip of soda. Seeing Jess’s expression, Abby answered her question before it was asked. “No, they’ve never found his body.” She looked skyward and made the sign of the cross. “Thank you, God. That means he has to be alive somewhere.” Jess held her breath hoping Abby was right. “But where?” She seemed a little more composed.

  “Have you investigated the various public resources available to family members trying to find a missing child?”

  She nodded in the affirmative. “I have, and I’ve learned a lot. Not that it makes me feel any better or accepting of the fact that he’s gone. Did you know according to statistics every year over 600,000 people are trafficked across international borders and either sold into prostitution, slavery, or to parents who can’t have children?” Jess did know that, but she hadn’t wanted to bring it to Abby’s attention. “And of those,” Abby continued, “eighty percent are women, the other twenty percent are children. I’ve made it a point to become involved with every public organization out there, hoping to find a clue. I’m a member of NCMEC, the National Center for Missing & Exploited Children. Four times a year, they have dinner auctions to raise money to continue their search. I continually check various databases that offer assistance: NAMUS- Missing Persons System; AMBER-America’s Missing Broadcast Emergency Response; Troopers.NY.gov; NY Sheriffs.org dedicated to missing persons, and I’ve even volunteered for doenetwork.org, an organization which helps the police locate missing persons. These organizations have helped locate many.” She slowly rewrapped her sandwich. “Unfortunately, my brother isn’t one of them. But I’m not giving up hope.”