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

room and dining area were cluttered but clean, and totally feminine. Pink and red throw pillows, wall hangings with embroidered poems and prayers, and shelves full of porcelain figures. But nothing, on the surface, to explain how the girl who had lived here had ended up dead.
    Jessie’s mother took several gulping breaths, then looked up. “How did it happen?”
    Jackson moved to the couch and sat next to her. “We don’t know yet. Someone found her body. But there’s no evidence of any trauma.”
    “What are you saying? She just died?”
    “She was naked and in a dumpster. We’re treating it like a homicide.”
    A wounded animal sound burst from her throat. Davenport closed her eyes and began to pray again, her lips moving in a whispery singsong.
    “I know this is very difficult,” Jackson prodded, “but I need to ask you some questions. Maybe some tough questions about Jessie’s social life.”
    Suddenly, she sprang off the couch. “You think this is my fault, don’t you? You think I’m a bad mother. You always did.” The outburst was followed by more weeping.
    Jackson gave her a minute. “You’re a fine mother. I just need to figure out what happened. And I need your help. Will you please sit down and answer some questions?”
    She sat, but she would not look at him.
    Jackson took out his notepad. “When was the last time you saw Jessie?”
    “This morning before school.”
    “What was she wearing?”
    She whipped her head around. “Why? Do you think the way she was dressed was responsible for whatever happened to her?”
    Jackson fought to keep his cool. “A detective is standing in a dumpster right now looking for your daughter’s clothes, in case those clothes have evidence on them that can help us. I’d like to tell him exactly what he’s looking for.”
    She pressed her lips together, looking chagrined, then said, “A denim skirt and a pink and blue striped pullover.”
    “What about shoes or a backpack?”
    “I don’t know about the shoes, but she always carried a backpack. This year it was one of those clear plastic ones. I only saw her briefly before I left for work. I had an early shift at the nursing home this morning.”
    Jackson used his cell phone to relay the information to Schakowski, who had not found anything yet. Mrs. Davenport went to the kitchen and came back with a glass of water for herself. Jackson had more questions.
    “Did Jessie have any plans to go somewhere after school today?”
    “She had Teen Talk.”
    “What’s that?”
    “A group of Christian kids who get together after school once a week.” This was new to Jackson. He didn’t remember the activity from when Katie and Jessie had been friends.
    “Where do they meet and what do they do?”
    “It’s a Bible study. They meet at Angel’s. She has a big rec room with a pool table.”
    “Angel Strickland?” When Katie had been friends with Jessie, Angel’s name had come up a few times. Jackson may have met her once but couldn’t remember for sure. He often got Katie’s friends mixed up.
    Mrs. Davenport nodded.
    Jackson asked, “Do you know if Jessie was at Angel’s today?”
    “She would have called me if she went anywhere else.”
    “Did she carry a cell phone?”
    “Yes.”
    Jackson made a note to subpoena the records. “Did she have a boyfriend?”
    The mother scowled. “Of course not. She’s only thirteen. Well, almost fourteen.” Davenport began to cry again. Through sobs, she choked out, “Her birthday is next week.”
    “Do you know anyone who would want to harm Jessie?” If Jessie had been an adult victim, he would have asked that first.
    “No. Of course not.”
    “Do you have a current photo?”
    “I’ve got her school photo from last year.” Mrs. Davenport pulled a tissue from her smock and wiped at her face.
    “I’d like to release Jessie’s name and photo to the media and ask for the public’s help.”
    She nodded and pulled herself off the couch.
    Jackson asked if he