Detective Cotilla held out another report. “As I said, Captain Edison was a very thorough man. After the boy—” he glanced at Jack “—came to him, the captain revisited Roy Wyatt. He wanted a clearer picture of what had gone on that summer.” He handed the women the pages.
Captain Edison wrote that when he told what he’d found, Roy got very angry. He said that yes, he’d gone back to the Morris house and demanded that Cheryl stay away from his son. He said Cheryl had given him a cock-and-bull story about her and Jack taking pictures of each other. She even showed him a camera that had Henry Lowell’s name etched on the side.
Roy said he demanded the return of the camera and all the film that had been shot with it. The young woman gave all of it to him and he left.
The captain said Roy stated that when he returned home he watched the films and was sickened. He wanted to take it all to the sheriff, but he didn’t want to humiliate his son by letting others see what had been done to him. But to prove what he was saying, Roy had cut pieces of the videos out and put them on DVD, which he turned over to Captain Edison.
Jack was still leaning back, still refusing to participate in what was going on. But when Sara handed him the third paper, he read it.
They all saw the blood creep up Jack’s neck and into his face.
When Kate and Sara leaned back onto the cushions beside Jack, the three of them presented a unified front.
Jack handed the paper to Kate and she put it on the table. Sara nodded toward the computer. “I guess you have the DVD that Roy made.”
“Yes, we do.” Detective Cotilla flipped open the laptop and turned it on. “Sorry, but there’s no sound.”
The first video was of an eleven-year-old Jack sitting at a table staring at the camera. He was averypretty boy. Dark hair with curls, thick eyelashes and eyebrows, full lips.
Kate turned to look at him but he was staring at the screen.
They saw the back of a blonde female head go to him and kiss his cheek. When she walked away, her face couldn’t be seen, but Jack looked like he was about to melt. Young love was in his eyes. It would have been sweet except for what they knew had happened.
The next clip was a profile of Cheryl. Just her cheek could be seen, but her body was in clear view. She was built! A tight red skirt hugged her curvy backside and showed off her little waist. She had on dark hose and four-inch heels.
She was bending over Jack, who was curled up on the floor. The lack of sound didn’t hide the fact that he was saying, “No! No!” From Jack’s story, they knew he was laughing, but in the video, it looked like he was begging her to stop—but she wouldn’t.
The third clip was the worst. It showed Cheryl sitting behind an old table, talking to the camera. She was pretty, yes, but what made Kate involuntarily suck in her breath was that the girl looked to be in her late twenties, maybe older. She had on a lot of makeup. Her shoulder-length hair had been twisted back into a soft chignon, and she wore pearl earrings. Her white shirt didn’t hide her impressive bust.
No one seeing the film would believe she was just fifteen years old.
When she stopped talking, her pretty face turned to anger. Or, actually, rage. She stood up and again they saw the curves of her. No wonder the boys were after her! Kate thought.
The camera recorded her stalking forward in her very tall heels. Her arm shot out.
In the next second, she pulled young Jack into view. She had him in a scissor hold, his head smashed against her breast. She rubbed the top of his head hard with her knuckles. The boy struggled to get away, but she held him and kept rubbing.
The video ended abruptly and Detective Cotilla put down the lid. He waited a moment, then handed Kate the fourth report.
This time, Jack read it with them. Captain Edison wrote that he was disgusted by what he’d seen and he wished Cheryl Morris hadn’t run away. He would very much like to arrest her for corrupting a minor. But all he could do was send her photo to a few surrounding states and hope to find her.
After that were five yearly notes saying that there was no news of either of the women.
They put down the papers and looked at Detective Cotilla.
“That’s it,” he said. “That’s all of what happened.” He looked at Jack. “I’ve read your father’s rap sheet, and based on what I’ve seen of his temper, I think he saw the films and he went back. There was probably a fight and it got out of hand.”
He waited for Jack to reply but he said nothing. “We know that the mother of this, uh...Cheryl—” he seemed to be sickened by saying her name “—supplemented her income with prostitution. Her daughter didn’t have a good role model, but even so, what she did to a young boy...”
As he looked at Jack with pity, he withdrew a business card from his jacket pocket and held it out to him.
Jack didn’t take it.
Detective Cotilla put it on the coffee table and Kate picked it up. It was the name and address of a clinic that dealt with adults who had been the victims of child sexual abuse.
“Things like this affect your whole life,” Detective Cotilla said with sympathy. “You’re what? Past thirty and not married? If you get help, maybe you could—”
Abruptly, Sara stood up. “Thank you both for coming,” she said loudly. “We’ll keep these documents and go over them.” She held her arm out to point them toward the way out.
