“What’s up?” I asked.
“Put the coffee down and come to my office. You have to hear this.”
I really needed this cup of coffee. After Alayah and I got home last night, we’d showered and cuddled in my bed. Cuddling turned into kissing, and before I knew it, I was face deep between her thighs again and again. I’d quickly come to realize the taste of her was a favorite of mine.
The great part about that was she seemed to love looking down at the top of my head as much as I liked having it positioned between her thighs. I indulged in her twice last night and this morning before I dropped her off to work.
“Killian, did you hear me?” Erica asked.
“My bad. Just give me a second. I’m coming.”
“Hurry up,” she yelled over her shoulder as she walked out.
I turned back to my coffee and quickly added my cream and sugar. After giving it a stir, I left the break room and headed for Erica. When I walked in, it looked like tornado had hit her office. Files and papers were all over the place. She was sifting through them like a madwoman.
“What happened in here?” I asked.
“Close the door.”
I did as she asked then took a seat while she gathered some papers.
“You are not going to believe what I found,” she said, huffing as she took a seat behind her desk. “Killian, when I say I’ve been working my ass off on Alayah’s case, I’ve been working my ass off. Rodney West’s family may have money but they are full of bullshit and corrupt individuals. The lawyer who served as the family’s counsel, a cousin. Two of his family members served on the jury—all different last names, so nobody made the connection.
“They played like they didn’t know each other so well. The fucking judge… Killian, the judge was his Rodney’s step-grandfather. The Mr. West we saw in the courthouse is not his father. His father died when Rodney was twelve. His mother married that man when he was fifteen and gave her children his last name. The judge was never married to Mr. West’s mother. He’s his lovechild outside of his marriage.”
“Hold on. You’re giving me a shitload of information.”
“It gets worse. The officer that got to the scene first, another cousin. Killian, they had to have been feeding each other information.” She handed me the stack of papers in her hand.
“What’s this?”
“Rodney West’s juvenile records…unsealed.”
“How did you get this?”
“I filed a motion to unseal his records after the Eastons retained me. When they first came to me last year and told me the story, I asked them for some time to do my own research to ensure I could help. When I dug into Rodney, I found a few different petty charges on him, nothing to make me raise an eyebrow. Then I saw he had sealed juvenile records. You know when you file a motion to unseal them, you can see the dates since it’s in the process of becoming a public record.
“His juvi record dates back to age thirteen. In that file is a record of him being a peeping Tom, and there are several allegations of him touching girls inappropriately, but somehow, the charges were dropped. I went through every name on that list and spoke to them personally. These are their written statements.” She handed me more papers. “When I told them about Alayah, they all had the same look of guilt on their faces. You know why? All six girls—now adult women—were paid for their silence by the judge.”
It was like my brain was on overload from all the information she’d just thrown at me. This was a game changer. Every person involved could be brought up on charges of obstructing justice.
“They knew what he was doing?” I asked in disbelief.
Erica nodded. “They did. I can only imagine the conversations that took place in that household. They knew he was a sick individual and left him to prey on innocent girls all for the sake of keeping up their image. I’m going after everybody that helped cover this shit up. Someway, somehow, Kennedy is going down for this, too.”
“The tapes. Alayah kept mentioning tapes.”
Erica shook her head. “The tapes might be a lost cause. They searched every inch of the Chamberses’ house, his place, and his parents’ place and found no trace of the tapes. It’s like they just disappeared.”
“They have to be somewhere. She wouldn’t just pull a story like that out of her ass. We know sexual deviants sometimes keep trophies of their victims like underwear, hair clippings, and whatnot. If he had those tapes, he kept them somewhere where he could watch them—admire what he’d done. He wouldn’t be able to help himself not to.”
Erica thought for a moment. “How often was he at that house when you went over there?”
“Every time I was there, he was there. I remember her telling me he spent the night four maybe five times a week.”
“They have to be there.”
“And just how do you suppose we get a warrant for that? You’re bringing evidence against a judge, Erica. Nobody is gonna wanna touch that shit.”
