Free Detective Wade Jackson Mystery - 01 - The Sex Club by L. J. Sellers

speak to her again?”
    “No.” Rachel pressed her lips together, and her eyes teared up. “I can’t believe she’s dead.”
    Jackson handed her his business card. “If you think of anything important that I should know, please call me.”
    She nodded, took the card, and left. He thought he heard her sob as she stepped out the door. He braced himself for more grief as the next girl came in.
    After an hour at the school, Jackson headed back to the department. The other two interviews had been more emotional than the first and almost as unproductive. Both Angel and Nicole had insisted that Jessie did not have a boyfriend. They also seemed upset to hear that their friend had been sexually involved.
    From Angel, Jackson heard that Jessie’s parents had split up the year before and that her younger sister had drowned two years ago. It made him realize that he had not learned much about Jessie when she and Katie had been friends. He had been oblivious to the grief Jessie had gone through.
    Nicole had been a little more forthcoming about Jessie’s habits. She told him that “sometimes Jessie left Teen Talk a little early” and that Jessie had “a special friend she saw sometimes.”
    The special friend intrigued him, but when Jackson had pressed for information, Nicole retreated. But she gave him the names of the boys who attended Teen Talk: Greg Miller, Tyler Jahn, and Adam Walsh.
    Jackson decided he would have Evans interview the guys. They might open up more with a woman.
    As he neared the downtown area, his cell phone rang.
    “It’s Casaway. There’s a sex offender named Oscar Grady. A teacher who did time for statutory rape of one of his students. He’s only been out for three months. He lives on Patterson about four blocks from where the body was found.”
    “Good work. What’s the address?”
    “2817 Patterson. It’s a halfway house run by the Real Recovery Center.”
    “Thanks. I’m on it.”
    Jackson felt a little surge of energy. Grady could be Jessie’s “special friend.” Sex offenders had the highest recidivism rate of all convicts. And, as an ex-teacher, Grady would know how to get close to a young person.
    Jackson made a left on 8th and headed back to the south side. Using speed dial, he called the Parole and Probation office and tracked down Grady’s PO. Barstow wasn’t in, so he left him a message. Parole officers liked to be kept in the loop when their charges were picked up.
    The two-story house desperately needed a new coat of paint, but the yard was free of debris. A collection of decrepit bicycles cluttered the front porch, and a giant coffee can filled with sand served as a front-porch ashtray. Jackson rang the bell and waited a long time for someone to come to the door.
    Rusty, as he introduced himself, was fifty going on seventy, with skinny legs, a soft belly, and hollowed-out eyes. Jackson guessed alcohol to be his poison of choice.
    “Oscar’s at work,” Rusty said. “Over at Cartell’s Lumber. At least that’s where he’s supposed to be.”
    “Does Oscar skip work often?” Jackson asked. “And when he does, where does he go?”
    “I didn’t say that.” Rusty scratched his dirty hair. “Check the lumber yard.”
    Cartell’s wasn’t much of a business. The yard was an open, mud-splattered mill that cranked out dog-eared boards for picket fences. The tiny front office was housed inside a rust-streaked trailer that smelled of mildew. And the morbidly obese owner was squeezed behind a desk that was two sizes too small for him.
    “What can I do for you, officer?” he asked with little enthusiasm after Jackson introduced himself.
    “I’m looking for Oscar Grady.”
    “He’s here. Like most days. Want me to go get him?”
    “Not yet. Was he here yesterday?”
    “Yep. Clocked out at three with everyone else.”
    That left Grady with plenty of time to meet up with Jessie, Jackson thought. “Did you ever see him with anybody? A girlfriend? A kid?”
    “Nope. He