Before She Said I Do (Martina Monroe Book 14) by H.K. Christie

Author:H.K. Christie [Christie, H.K.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Keekstar Media
Published: 2025-09-26T00:00:00+00:00

28

MARTINA

Hirsch and I busted through the doors of the San Jose police station, the air-conditioned lobby slapping against my face like a cold front. My heart pounded in my chest. I needed to see this man, this person connected to my daughter’s kidnapping. I needed to look him in the eye and make him tell me where Zoey was.

I could only hope Lieutenant Blackwell would agree to let me question him. Maybe even without the cameras on in the interview room. Near the front desk stood Blackwell, likely anticipating our arrival. Not waiting for Hirsch, I surged ahead, barely able to keep the desperation from spilling out of me.

“Who is he? What has he told you? Where is Zoey?”

“The suspect’s name is Diego Gentry,” Blackwell said. “So far, he hasn’t said a word except when he asked for a lawyer.”

“Well, it’s a good thing I’m not in law enforcement. I can question him all I want. He can sit there and stay quiet, or he can talk to me. You will let me talk to him, right?”

Blackwell seemed caught off guard by my request. I wasn’t sure why. Hirsch stepped in. “When Martina wasn’t with the CoCo County Sheriff’s Department, we let her question suspects associated with her investigations. It’s completely legal,” he explained. “He doesn’t have to talk, like she said, but she can ask what she wants.”

Blackwell nodded slowly, clearly still weighing the risk. “Hirsch, you’ll be in the room with her?”

“Of course.”

Did Blackwell not trust me? Or did he think my judgment was clouded because my daughter had been taken? Either way, I didn’t care. I just wanted to talk to this Diego Gentry, and I wanted to do it now. “Well then, let’s go. Where is he?”

Blackwell hesitated slightly, then said, “This way.”

He led us down a narrow hallway into a secure room. Inside stood a uniformed officer. I gave the guard a nod, then turned toward the thick glass.

Through the window sat a young man, maybe late twenties. Dark hair. Tan skin. Thin build. Hard to say exactly how tall, but maybe six feet if he stood. He didn’t look dangerous. He looked tired. Like he’d been through the wringer. “What do you know about him?” I asked.

“He’s twenty-eight. From San Jose, born and raised. He’s got a record: petty theft, receiving stolen goods, and a few drug charges.”

“Any connection to organized crime?”

“Not that we can tell, but you never know. Organized crime’s more rampant here in San Jose than we like to admit. They’ve got tentacles everywhere. He could be connected, but he’s not a big enough fish to be on anyone’s radar.”

I nodded, understanding. “And he hasn’t said anything useful?”

“Nope. Asked for a lawyer almost immediately.”

Hirsch said, “So, he’s not a complete idiot.”

“He’s been taught not to talk to cops.”

I pulled out my phone and opened the grainy video clip of the man who took Zoey, that we’d reviewed again and again. “I’m assuming you’ve reviewed the security footage again?”

Blackwell glanced at the screen.

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