A Necessary Evil(50)
“Well, you said you needed her formal statement,” Kitty answered for her. “I talked to the attorney I work for. He doesn’t do criminal law, but he said as long as Mollie isn’t a suspect and she’s free to leave any time she chooses, it would be fine to come down here.”
“Yes, that’s right,” the detective responded with his elbows on the table and his fingers steepled before him. “She is free to leave at any time she wants. And no, she’s not a suspect in any crime. At least, not yet.”
“What is that supposed to mean?” Kitty asked with a raised, perfectly plucked eyebrow.
Detective Jamison leaned forward. “It means, Ms. Cartwright, that I’m not an idiot. Mollie may not know where your father is holding Collin McAllister, but she knows more than she told me at your house.” He turned to face Mollie. “Isn’t that right, Mollie?”
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—”