Page 145 of Fall Into Temptation
“It sounds like, once again, one of you is lying.” Donovan pulled out a neat stack of papers. “This is an affidavit signed by Franklin Merill, your ex-husband, detailing the number of times he tried to get you into therapy. It says here early in your relationship you had issues with recreational drugs. Which leads me to believe that all your issues didn’t start with the birth of your daughter.”
“Papers don’t mean nothing. He’s lying. It’s all lies.”
“Last week, did Eva refuse to give you ten thousand dollars and instead offer you a way into a rehab program for addicts?”
Agnes was looking everywhere but him.
“Agnes, I’ve got more papers here. An affidavit from Eva detailing every time you shook her down for money. She’s a writer. She kept notes, voice mails, texts. It doesn’t look good. Especially since she offered you help right before you broke into her house.”
“I needed money, okay? She always gave before. Now she goes and gets some kind of backbone and gets all righteous on me?”
“You needed money, she refused to give it to you, so you took what you could from her house,” Donovan spelled it out nice and neat for the record.
“She owes me,” Agnes repeated. “It was my right. I needed money. I didn’t take everything. I could have.”
Donovan turned one of the photos around. “Did you know your grandson took this photo? Got video of you lugging stolen property out of your daughter’s house. You ever met him?”
Agnes shrugged and kicked at the table leg with her tennis shoe.
“He’s a smart kid. Thanks to him and his recording, we’ve got you cold on breaking and entering, grand theft, and Officer Lewis just added possession of stolen property.”
“What are you smirking at, standing there in the corner judging me?” she asked Jamal. “A big man with a gun. Fuck you both.”
“Such anger,” Donovan said mildly.
“When I get out of here, I’ll come back, and she’ll give me what I want this time. She always does.”
“There’s a difference this time, Agnes. Two actually,” Donovan said calmly. “Eva’s gotten quite good at saying no. You’ll never see a dime out of her again. And if you come within town limits of her, I’ll make it my life’s work to put you behind bars for the rest of your life.”
“You don’t scare me. Some sheriff in some pissant town?” she snorted.
“See, here’s the thing Agnes. The DA’s gonna offer you a deal. They’re gonna say they’ll forget all about those blackmail and extortion charges if you plead guilty to breaking and entering, possession of stolen property, and theft. You’ll do somewhere around two years, maybe a little less for good behavior.”
“I’m not doing time!” She crashed her fisted hand onto the tabletop.
“I was hoping you’d say that,” Donovan said, pasting a cocky grin on his face. “Did you know extortion is a Class D felony? That’s seven years. Throw in the rest of it, and you could be facing up to ten years in the cage. And if you knew how much I loved your daughter, you’d know how badly I want you to say ‘fuck the deal.’”
“I want a lawyer.”
“You heard the lady,” Donovan said lazily to Jamal.
Jamal hauled Agnes to her feet. “You’d better get real comfortable in a cell,” he said cheerfully.
“You’ll never lock me up!” she shrieked.
“News for you, lady, you’re already locked up,” Jamal reminded her.
“Guilty plea, and three years in and out. Or we push for trial. We’ve already got over a dozen witnesses happy to talk about what kind of person you are,” Donovan grinned. “I really hope you don’t take that deal.”
Jamal half-dragged, half-pushed, Agnes down the hallway. Donovan could hear her yelling the entire way.
“Any new injuries?” he asked when Jamal returned.
“Maybe a ruptured ear drum. Nothing a beer and some aspirin won’t fix,” the man promised.
There was a knock on the door. The desk sergeant poked her head in. “More coffee?” she asked, holding up two fresh cups.
“God, yes please,” Donovan sighed.
