Chapter 3
Jayla admitted it in the parked car.
Not all at once.
Nothing important seemed to come all at once anymore.
She stared at DeShawn's message until her breathing became shallow.
I took the phone from her.
"Look at me."
She did.
"What does he mean by what you did too?"
Her lips shook.
"I took money."
I blinked.
"What?"
"From you."
For one second, I almost laughed.
Not because it was funny.
Because stealing money seemed almost small compared to everything else.
"How much?"
"Three hundred."
My relief disappeared.
"Three hundred dollars?"
She nodded.
"When?"
"The week after the party."
"Why?"
She looked down.
"DeShawn said I owed him."
My blood went cold.
"For what?"
"The drinks."
I stared.
"He made you pay him three hundred dollars for alcohol?"
"No."
Her eyes filled.
"For not telling people."
I couldn't breathe.
"Not telling people what?"
"That I was there."
I stared.
"Baby, that makes no sense."
She started crying.
"He said somebody stole a watch."
My stomach tightened.
"What watch?"
"Kiara's cousin's roommate had this expensive watch."
"Did you take it?"
"No."
"Did you see who did?"
She nodded.
"DeShawn."
Everything became clear and ugly at once.
"You saw him steal it."
"Yes."
"And afterward he told you that if you talked, he'd say you were involved."
She nodded.
"He had a video of me holding it."
My heart hammered.
"Why were you holding it?"
"He handed it to me."
"Before or after you drank?"
"Before."
"So he created evidence."
"I didn't know."
Of course she didn't.
She was fifteen.
He was nineteen.
He understood leverage.
She understood fear.
"What happened to the money?"
"I gave it to him."
"Cash?"
"Yes."
"Where?"
"Outside school."
I stared.
"He came to your school?"
"Parking lot."
"When?"
"After basketball practice."
I closed my eyes.
"Jayla."
"I'm sorry."
"Stop apologizing."
I looked at her.
"You made mistakes."
She cried harder.
"But someone older used those mistakes to control you."
She nodded.
"That matters."
I took screenshots of every message immediately.
Then I called Ms. Franklin.
She told me not to respond to DeShawn.
Save everything.
Block nothing yet.
Law enforcement needed to document contact.
By that evening, a detective named Marcus Green came to our house.
Jayla didn't want a uniformed officer.
He arrived in jeans and a plain shirt.
Smart.
He spoke to me first.
Then separately with Jayla.
I waited in the kitchen.
I could hear nothing.
Good.
This wasn't my interview.
After almost an hour, Detective Green came out.
His face was serious.
"She did well."
I hated that phrase.
A child shouldn't need to do well describing something like this.
"What happens now?"
"We preserve the phone evidence."
"Can you arrest him?"
"Not based on messages alone."
My anger rose.
He raised a hand.
"We're moving quickly."
"He's contacting her."
"I know."
"He's nineteen."
"I know."
"He knew she was fifteen."
"According to her statement."
I hated police language.
Necessary.
Still hated it.
Green continued.
"There's another issue."
Of course.
"What?"
"The party."
"What about it?"
"Jayla says there were other girls."
My stomach tightened.
"What girls?"
"She remembers at least two who appeared heavily intoxicated."
I went still.
"You think he's done this before."
"We don't know."
"But you're thinking it."
He didn't answer.
That answered.
The next morning, I told Terrence.
Worst phone call of my life.
At first, he thought I was joking.
Then silence.
Then:
"Pregnant?"
"Yes."
"She's fifteen."
"I know."
"Who?"
"I'm not giving you his address."
That told him enough.
"You know who?"
"Yes."
"I'm coming down."
"No."
"What do you mean no?"
"I mean you are not getting in a car angry."
"Monique."
"Your daughter needs you calm."
He started breathing hard.
"Did he hurt her?"
I closed my eyes.
"We don't know exactly what happened."
"What does that mean?"
"It means she had alcohol, lost parts of the night, and the boy is nineteen."
Silence.
Then Terrence's voice broke.
"My baby."
That almost broke me too.
"Yeah."
"I'm coming."
"Tomorrow."
"Today."
"Tomorrow after you sleep."
He cursed.
I let him.
Then I said:
"If you show up threatening anyone, I will make you leave."
"You're serious."
"Dead serious."
He went quiet.
"I won't."
"Promise me."
"I promise."
He arrived the next afternoon.
Jayla wouldn't come downstairs at first.
Terrence sat on the couch staring at his hands.
He had aged.
Or maybe I had never seen him terrified.
"Does she hate me?"
"No."
"Why won't she come down?"
"She's ashamed."
His eyes filled.
"Of me?"
"Of disappointing you."
He closed his eyes.
"Damn."
We waited.
Finally, Jayla appeared.
Terrence stood.
Then stopped himself from rushing her.
Good.
"Hey, baby."
Jayla looked at him.
"I'm sorry."
His face collapsed.
"No."
She started crying.
"I messed everything up."
"No."
He moved closer slowly.
"Can I hug you?"
She nodded.
He held her.
Then he cried.
Harder than I had ever seen.
"I'm sorry."
Jayla pulled back.
"Why are you sorry?"
"Because you thought you couldn't tell me."
That was the right answer.
For the first time in days, something inside me loosened.
Terrence stayed three nights.
We met with a counselor.
We discussed the pregnancy.
No decision yet.
Jayla said she wanted time.
We gave it.
Then Detective Green called.
They had identified another girl from the party.
Seventeen.
She reported waking in a bedroom with no memory of how she got there.
Same apartment.
Same night.
My stomach turned.
"DeShawn?"
"She identified him as someone who gave her drinks."
"Did anything happen?"
"She isn't sure."
Exactly like Jayla.
Then another girl came forward.
Sixteen.
Different party.
Same name.
My anger became something colder.
Pattern.
Not proof yet.
But pattern.
Police obtained a warrant for DeShawn's phone.
He had deleted messages.
Digital recovery found some.
One to a friend:
Little girls can't handle liquor.
Another:
They don't remember enough anyway.
When Detective Green told me, I had to sit down.
Terrence stood beside me.
His fists clenched.
I looked at him.
"Don't."
He nodded.
"I'm not."
Good.
We were both learning that rage couldn't protect Jayla now.
Only steady choices could.
Then the money theft came back.
Detective Green asked about the three hundred dollars.
I told him.
He asked:
"How did Jayla know where you kept cash?"
"Kitchen drawer."
"Was anything else missing?"
I thought.
"No."
Then remembered.
A spare house key.
I had assumed I misplaced it.
My stomach tightened.
"When did you notice?"
"Maybe a month ago."
"Before or after the party?"
"After."
Green's expression changed.
"Did Jayla give DeShawn access to your house?"
I stared.
"No."
Then doubt.
"Jayla!"
She came downstairs.
I hated asking.
"Did you give him our spare key?"
Her face went pale.
"No."
"Did he ever come inside?"
"No."
"Are you sure?"
"Yes."
Then she whispered:
"But Kiara had one."
I frowned.
"Why did Kiara have our key?"
"Because she fed Peanut when we went to Charlotte."
Our cat.
That trip had been two months earlier.
"Did she return it?"
Jayla looked sick.
"I thought she did."
Detective Green asked:
"Does Kiara know DeShawn?"
"He's friends with her cousin."
My stomach dropped.
We checked the doorbell-camera history.
Cloud subscription only kept thirty days.
Useless.
Then Terrence remembered the neighbor.
Mrs. Dawson had a camera facing the street.
We asked.
She still had footage.
Three weeks earlier, around noon while I was at work, a gray Charger pulled into my driveway.
A man got out.
Baseball cap.
Hoodie.
He walked to my front door.
Used a key.
Entered.
Stayed seventeen minutes.
Jayla stared at the screen.
"That's him."
My entire body went cold.
DeShawn had been inside my house.
Without permission.
"Why?" Terrence whispered.
Nobody knew.
Until I remembered the envelope.
I kept Jayla's birth certificate and Social Security card in a desk drawer.
I ran upstairs.
Drawer open.
Documents still there.
But one thing was missing.
An old tablet.
I had assumed Jayla took it.
She hadn't.
The tablet contained years of family photos.
Emails.
Stored passwords.
Possibly banking access.
I felt sick.
Detective Green asked:
"Anything sensitive?"
"Maybe."
Then my phone buzzed.
Bank alert.
Password reset request.
Not mine.
I stared.
Someone had just tried to access my account.
From a device I didn't recognize.
Then another alert.
Email password reset.
Then another.
Cloud storage.
DeShawn hadn't broken into my house for the three hundred dollars.
May you like
He had taken the tablet.
And whatever was on it, he was trying to use now.
