Read Detective Wade Jackson Mystery - 01 - The Sex Club for Free Online Page A

say either drug overdose or suffocation. And that’s all I can do here. Let’s get her into the van and on her way to the morgue for an ID.”
    As they were loading the body, Lara Evans drove up. At thirty-two, she was the youngest detective in the unit and still single. She wore her ash-brown hair short and feathered, emphasizing her heart-shaped face and bright blue eyes. Her expressions were as changeable as a chameleon—sweet one minute, inscrutable the next. She reminded Jackson of the actress Ashley Judd. Evans wore her standard on-the-job combo of black slacks and a pastel blazer.
    Jackson quickly briefed her. Evans had been a detective for less than a year, but her first response reminded him why he had picked her for the investigation.
    “Consensual sex doesn’t mean she wasn’t the victim of a sexual predator. We need to pull in all the known perverts in this area, registered or not.”
    “You’re right. We will.”
    Schakowski, who now smelled like cold pizza grease and cat litter, joined them. “I haven’t found a single thing that looks like it might belong to a young girl,” he said. “I’m going to pull the top layer of garbage out and use the spotlight.”
    “Great. We’ll check the other dumpsters and cans in the area too.” Jackson turned to Evans. “When McCray gets here, I want you guys to split these units,” he gestured at the two apartment buildings separated by the basketball court, “and knock on every door. Move quickly. Our priority is to find a witness or get a description of anyone who may have been seen in the area this afternoon. We’ll go back tomorrow with photos of the girl and get more specific.”
    Jackson watched the body wagon pull onto the street and heaved a sigh.
    “I’ll go see her mother.”
    Judy Davenport frowned when she first saw him, then looked confused. The last time they’d spoken, Jackson had been upset with her—maybe yelled a little—because she had let Katie and Jessie stay overnight somewhere else when he had been told that the girls would be in the Davenport home.
    This time, she did not know why he was here and was not prepared for what he would tell her. Jackson didn’t feel ready either. This was the first time he’d ever had to tell a parent that their young child had been murdered. In the other homicides he’d investigated involving children, the parent or guardian had reported—and committed—the crime.
    “Mrs. Davenport?”
    She opened the screen door. “What can I do for you?” Judy was mid-aged, mid-sized, and would have been attractive if she had not been stuck in the eighties. The pile of teased gray-blond hair made her face look small, and the padded shoulders of her blouse made her seem insecure.
    “Is your husband here?”
    “Not any more. Why?” Her eyes darted from Jackson to his car, then down the street. She was starting to panic.
    “I’m afraid I have some bad news. Can I come in?”
    Judy stepped back, letting the screen door bounce. Jackson followed her into the living room. In all those times he’d picked Katie up here, he’d never come inside. The barrage of color and clutter made him want to run. Mrs. Davenport stood at the end of a maroon-and-green floral couch, facing him. Her hands pressed against her chest, as if to protect her heart from a blow.
    Her lips began to tremble. “It’s Jessie, isn’t it?”
    “Yes. I’m very sorry to have to tell you that she’s dead.”
    For a few seconds, she was absolutely still, as though her brain had shut down. Then a floodwater of tears built up behind her eyes until the pupils looked as if they would drown. Judy Davenport sank onto the couch and began to pray and cry in a cacophony of sounds. She rocked back and forth, begging for Jesus to help her.
    “Is there anyone I can call who can come over and stay with you?”
    She ignored him, rocking and wailing on her bright floral couch. Jackson moved away, taking a moment to look around at the house. The living