Page 49 of Off the Hook

“Are you sure? Is there anything else you omitted? Because if there is, you should bring it out voluntarily now.”

“Is that why you called? To see if I was hiding anything else?” His voice rose, anxious and angry.

“You have to understand, harboring secrets makes you seem guilty, even if you're not.”

“If? Really? Do you think I might have done it?”

“No, I meant,” I tried to explain I was speaking hypothetically, but Coulter shouted over me.

“I don’t have any secrets, Faith. And I’m not a fucking murderer. You know what, forget it. I’m not doing this any more. Forget you ever met me. I don’t need this. I don’t need you."

His words hit me like a dagger right through my heart. "Coulter, please—"

"No, we’re done. Don’t call me again," he said, and the line went dead.

I stood there for a second, just staring at the phone in my hand before I collapsed on the couch. Before I knew it, tears were streaming down my face. Sadness and frustration overwhelmed me and I couldn’t hold back the gut-wrenching sobs. I curled around a pillow, hugging it close to my chest and burying my face in the soft chenille.

I barely registered the sound when my phone rang again. Wiping my eyes, and swallowing back my sobs, I glanced at the caller ID, hoping it was Coulter. Instead, I saw Monroe County Police Department. Anyone at the station was the last person I wanted to talk to.

“Detective Pierce,” I answered, trying to keep my voice steady. I wouldn’t let them hear me cry.

“Faith, I have some good news,” Louis said eagerly.

“That’s great, Louis,” I sniffled, sitting up straight. “I could use some.”

“I found Frank Jenkins. He lives with his daughter in Orlando.”

“Oh, that’s amazing,” I said, standing up to find my notepad.

“Not for her,” Louis chuckled. “She must have the patience of a saint. Be glad he retired long before you came to the Keys. That guy was a piece of work.”

Not really interested in Officer Jenkins’s temperament, I redirected. “So you have his contact for me?”

“Oh, yeah, sorry.” I jotted the phone number down as Louis continued. “And don’t worry, I won’t mention this to the Sheriff. Or anyone. Your secret is safe with me.”

I cringed. This is not how I liked to operate. I didn’t coerce coworkers into hiding things from superiors. But I had to smile at Louis’s misplaced loyalty. “Thanks, Louis. I’ll tell him myself after it all pans out.”

“Good luck. I hope Frank has mellowed with retirement. Let me know if you need anything else.”

It was only seven o’clock, not too late to call. I tucked my feet under me on the sofa and dialed the number. After the second ring, a raspy voice answered, “Hello.”

“Officer Jenkins?” I asked.

“Nobody’s called me that in a while,” he chuckled. “Yeah, this is Frank Jenkins.”

“Hi Frank. I’m Detective Faith Pierce with the Monroe County PD. Sorry to bother you. Is this a good time?”

“Good as any. It’s all the same when you’re retired. What can I do for you Detective?”

My lips curled in a smile. He didn’t seem at all like Louis portrayed him to be. “I need to ask about a domestic violence call that you responded to, around Christmas eight years ago. It involved a Coulter Rodman,” I said, getting straight to the point.

Jenkins was quiet, thinking back I imagined. “Spencer’s boy?”

His answer reminded me just how small this town was, and heightened the suspicion that there was some sort of coverup. “That’s right. Do you remember the call? It was a domestic dispute.”

“Yeah, I remember that night. A neighbor called it in. When we got there, the place was a mess. Broken dishes and picture frames all over the floor. The Rodman boy was there, trying to calm his girlfriend. She was hysterical. They were both intoxicated.”

I bit my lip. This wasn’t sounding good. “You took him in. Why?”

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