she showed up early to one of our sessions.” His face reddened. “She wasn’t one hundred percent sure of what she saw, so she turned around and walked out, but she didn’t make me go back the next week.”
“She didn’t talk about it?” I asked, swiping a tear from my cheek.
He shook his head and stared out at the road. “No. Not until the night before she shot him.”
“You told her what happened?”
He nodded and more tears streamed down his face. “I didn’t tell her much. Just enough so she knew it wasn’t right. She promised me that I’d never have to see him again. She was weird the next day, but she kept hugging me, telling me she was goin’ to make it all okay. She said she’d left a note for me under my pillow and that Jim was never going to hurt me again.” He blinked, and fresh tears fell down his face. “I haven’t seen her since.”
I grabbed his hand and squeezed it, overwhelmed with what he’d told me. I wasn’t sure what to do with this information. Jim was already dead, so there would be no justice if Thad went to the police, and if the story got out, it might do Thad more harm than good. Still, if Jim had done this to Thad, he might have done it to other boys. Not only had he been a youth leader, but he’d coached many youth sports teams.
“Thad, I want you to talk to a friend of mine.”
He snatched his hand from mine, his eyes flashing with fear, then anger. “I ain’t talkin’ to no one. I’m not even sure why I told you.”
“He did something awful to you,” I said. “You can’t just keep this to yourself for the rest of your life. It will eat you from the inside out.”
“I ain’t talkin’ to no more counselors. I already done that, and look how it turned out.”
“Jim Palmer wasn’t a counselor,” I said. “He was a pedophile wrapped up in a nice shiny package. And if he did this to you, he’s probably done it to others.”
His anger faded.
“My friend is a sheriff’s deputy. Just tell him what you told me and let him decide what to do.”
“What if he thinks I need to go public?”
I pushed out a breath. “I don’t know, Thad. I can’t promise anything, but this secret is tearing you up. I can’t let you fester in it.”
“I want to talk to my mom,” he said, sounding like a lost little boy instead of the defiant teenager he was trying to portray.
“Do you want me to take you to the jail to see her?”
“I don’t know if I can get in. My dad won’t take me.”
“Can I use your phone?” I asked. “I need to make a call, and maybe I can find out.”
He hesitated, then nodded, and I hurried in before he changed his mind. I found the phone hanging on the wall, and called Marco’s cell.
“Detective Roland.”
“Marco, it’s me. I need to know if a minor can see a parent in jail without the other parent’s permission.”
“Well…depends on how old. Does one of the Crimshaw boys want to see their mother?”
“Yes, and it’s important. Can he see her?”
“Which one? The younger one is pushin’ it…”
“Well, it’s him.”
He was silent. “It depends on who’s on duty. He’ll have a better shot if he goes with her attorney.”
“This is important, Marco. Really important.”
“You figured something out.” He sounded hopeful.
“I found out the full truth, and it has nothing to do with Bart and everything to do with an abused child. He really needs to see her, and then I hope he’ll be willing to talk to you.”
“Where are you now?”
“The Crimshaw house.”
“Meet me at the county jail in forty-five minutes. I’ll get him in.”
“Thank you, Marco.”
“Are you okay?” he asked. “We were hopin’ to pin this on Bart. This has to be disappointin’.”
I hadn’t stopped to let myself consider it. I supposed there was some disappointment, but mostly I felt sick that Thad had gone through so much trauma. “I found out the truth, and the truth is what’s most important.”
“So what was Emily orchestratin’? And why did that man come to my house?”
“I have no idea.” But after I got Thad through this, I intended to find out.
Chapter Thirty-One
Forty-three minutes later, Thad and I pulled into the parking lot of the county jail. He’d washed his face and voluntarily changed his clothes, now wearing a clean pair of jeans