Greg Richards was methodically laying it all before them. How the men were sent out on test-drives—no cars to trace—given fake licenses and business cards for the same man—James Sharp. Those cards sent all calls to a legitimate company owned and run by Shane’s partner. That company had a revolving receptionist who knew only that whenever someone got through to her for James Sharp, the man was on an extended vacation. But this business on the side ran so smoothly, those calls rarely came.
“At the dealership the client is given a key and a map,” Greg continued. “He’s told to pick up a hitchhiker at a certain spot. The hitchhiker is his purchase and she’s ready to give him whatever he’d ordered.”
“Oh, God,” Martha said out loud. Overwhelmed with nausea, she made herself hold on. Ellen needed her.
“He thought I was a prostitute?” Ellen’s voice was so weak it scared Martha. She held on tighter, keeping Ellen there with her, mentally present, by sheer force of will.
“According to what he told his attorney earlier this evening.” Greg answered Ellen directly, earning him Martha’s gratitude. “He’d asked for surprise as his fantasy. The girl was to be in charge, to let him know his role. He thought Ellen was play-acting and that her reticence meant she wanted him to play rough.”
“That would explain why he was gentler once she stopped fighting,” Martha said aloud. It was all too much to take in at the moment. The pain. The waste. The fact that the world held men like Shane who got away with running businesses that were legally and morally reprehensible.
“He was supposed to pick up someone else.” Ellen’s voice was distant.
“The girl had missed her ride from Phoenix,” Greg answered, his words filled with compassion.
“It was all for nothing.” Ellen sounded as though she was falling asleep. “He…he didn’t intend to rape me. It was all…a misunderstanding.”
“It wasn’t for nothing,” David said softly, leaning forward. “Never think that, Ellen.”
“David’s right,” Greg added, standing. “Because of you we’ve been able to break up a multimillion-dollar operation and put the perpetrators behind bars.”
“Can I go to bed now, Mama?” Ellen asked, looking up with wide innocent eyes, twisting Martha’s heart a little further as she used the name all her children had called her during their younger years. This was twice in a little over a month she’d had to answer to that name.
“Of course.” Still holding Ellen, she slowly stood.
She led her daughter from the room, supporting most of her weight, although both men offered to help. Martha declined. Ellen had had her privacy invaded enough.
Shelley was waiting just outside the door of the living room. There was no expression on the teen’s face. No sign of compassion. Or sorrow. But she was there. And a valuable help as she half carried her sister down the hall and silently helped her mother put an exhausted and incoherent Ellen to bed.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
DAVID WAITED WITH GREG, quietly discussing more of the details of the evening’s arrests, comparing names and facts, while Martha got Ellen settled.
So far the evening had gone better than he had any right to expect. He had a feeling that was soon going to change.
“Thank you.” He looked the sheriff in the eye, knowing that Greg Richards would understand exactly what he meant.
Greg bowed his head. “We made a deal under which you disclosed information. I have to uphold my end of that.”
Sitting back on one side of the love seat, an ankle crossed over his knee, both hands on that ankle, David forced himself to play this out to the end. “I would’ve told you whether you agreed to remain silent or not.”
Greg nodded. He’d fallen back into the armchair, his fingers propped together in front of his face, and he looked as exhausted as David felt. His face was darkly shadowed with a day’s growth of beard. His short curly hair was unusually tousled, his uniform more wrinkled than creased. “I made a deal.”
“You have a community to protect.”
David had a conscience. One that was pushing him to confess his sins to the people who thought him to be something he wasn’t.
“My silence does not endanger this community.”
David held his tongue as Martha returned. After assuring them that Ellen was already asleep, she dropped down to the edge of the love seat, close enough that David could smell the fresh wholesome scent he’d come to associate with her—but far enough away that he’d have to make an obvious effort to touch her.
Not that he had any intention of doing so. Ever again.
But that didn’t stop him from wanting to.
She’d changed into a pair of black cotton draw-string pants and a white, long-sleeved T-shirt with Los Angeles printed across the front in black lettering. She’d put on black flip-flops.
“So,” she murmured, seemingly oblivious to the way her short black hair stood straight up in no kind of fashion as she ran her fingers through it and then lowered her hand. “You never did answer my question. What happens to this guy?”