“Don’t you mean interrogate, chief?”
Lacing his fingers together, Parker rested them on the top of the desk. “No, deputy, I meant what I said. We interview victims and witnesses and interrogate those we arrest and charge with a crime.”
“No, I didn’t interview her, but I will tomorrow. Right now, she’s too traumatized to recall everything that happened to her.” Reese was aware that if he had insisted Cherie talk to him about the incident, she would’ve shut down completely. She didn’t say anything while drinking her tea, then unceremoniously had asked him to leave so she could be alone.
“What do you know about her?”
“Not much,” Reese admitted truthfully. “I know she bought the Murphy house on the island, she had Connecticut plates on her vehicle before she exchanged them for North Carolina’s, and that she works at the café.”
“Full-time?”
“No. If I come in around noon, I usually don’t see her, so I have to assume she’s a part-timer.”
Leaning back in the leather executive chair, Parker closed his eyes for several seconds. “The man we have locked up in the back refuses to talk.”
“Does he want an attorney?” Reese asked.
“No. And he wasn’t carrying any identification, but once we ran his photo and prints through the national criminal database, we discovered he has a long rap sheet that goes back to when he was arrested at twenty for shoplifting. He’s committed a lot of petty offenses over the years, but nothing on his record indicates violent assault.”
“Where were these crimes committed?”
Parker glanced down at the printout on the desk. “Anywhere and everywhere. He’s been arrested a few times in Cleveland, Ohio. Jackson, Mississippi. Memphis, Tennessee. The last one was three years ago in Birmingham, Alabama. They were all misdemeanors, and the most time he’s ever spent in jail is ninety days.”
“Well, he’s going to spend more than ninety days behind bars for assault.”
Parker nodded. “I agree. But first we need the victim’s statement before I call Shelby P.D. and have him transferred to their jail to be arraigned.”
“I’ll try and get that from Cherie tomorrow.”
“Don’t try, deputy. Just get it. We don’t need folks gossiping about a woman being assaulted in broad daylight. Talk like that will negatively affect tourists wanting to come here if they don’t feel safe.” Parker ran a hand over his face. “Something keeps nagging at me.”
“What’s that?”
“Why did she move here?”
“Her name is Cherie Thompson, chief. Do you usually ask folks why they move here? For that matter, why do they decide to vacation here?”
“I happen to know her name, deputy. But wasn’t it you who didn’t want it bandied around until we’re able to get a statement from her?”
Reese had noted the hard edge creeping into Parker’s voice. “Yes, because I want to protect her before folks on the island get wind of what happened in the café’s parking lot. But that’s not going to be easy after they saw and heard lights and sirens.” He revealed what Derrick had told him about the man hanging around the restaurant.
“Don’t you think it’s a little coincidental that this piece of shit shows up after Miss No Name moves here?”
“No, I don’t.”
He didn’t want to believe that the woman with whom he’d become enthralled after catching less than a half dozen glimpses of her over the past month had been involved in something that had put her life in jeopardy.
Parker gave him a steady stare. “You have exactly twenty-four hours in which to interview the victim and write up your report. And please impress upon her that she must be willing to testify against her attacker or we’ll be forced to let him go. Meanwhile, I’m going to talk to Derrick about his employee.”
Reese’s impassive expression did not reflect his increasing annoyance. He didn’t know why Parker wanted to target Cherie as the reason for the attack and not some pervert who decided he saw something he wanted and went after it. He’d overheard the talk about Cherie moving to the island. Some were whispering about her living in the house alone, while he’d consciously ignored the gossip that she probably was hiding from a stalker boyfriend or an abusive husband. Whatever her reason, it was personal. And when he did get the chance to interview her, his questions would focus solely on the attack.
Pushing back his chair, he stood. “I’m going home to get some sleep before I begin my shift.”
Parker glared up at him. “Twenty-four hours, deputy.”
Reese nodded. He knew they wouldn’t be able to hold the man in jail if they weren’t able to charge him with the assault. And, for Reese, releasing him to possibly attack another woman was not an option.
Turning on his heel, he left the office and retreated to his cubicle, where Elizabeth had left a napkin-covered paper plate and a bottle of water. He uncovered the plate to find fried chicken, mac and cheese, potato salad, candied sweet potatoes, and a fluffy biscuit. There were a lot more carbs on the plate than he usually ate in one meal, but there was no way he was going to pass up the café’s legendary Creole chicken and mac and cheese. While he was on active military duty, Reese hadn’t strictly monitored what he ate, but it was different as a civilian. He’d traded meat and potatoes for chicken, fish, and lots of fruits and vegetables. He took his jacket off the coat tree and slipped into it before picking up his plate. He would eat at home before returning for his shift.
