The Murderer's Daughter: A Novel by Jonathan Kellerman

Author:Jonathan Kellerman [Kellerman, Jonathan]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Literature & Fiction, United States, Mystery; Thriller & Suspense, Mystery, Thrillers & Suspense, Psychological Thrillers, Suspense, Thrillers, Psychological
ISBN: 9780345545312
Amazon: B00MZWA65K
Publisher: Ballantine Books
Published: 2015-08-18T05:00:00+00:00

Nancy the Detective drove fast to juvenile hall and Grace knew she couldn’t wait to get the job over with. Within moments of passing through a series of locked doors, she was gone and Grace was being escorted by a huge black woman who called her “honey,” and reassured her she’d be fine.

Saying nice words, but in a tired voice, like she’d swallowed a tape recorder and pressed the Play button.

—

Grace’s clothes were taken away and she was given bright-orange pants and a matching shirt. A plastic band with her name misspelled “Blande” was snapped tight around her scrawny wrist. The room she was placed in was tiny and smelled of pee and poop, with crude graffiti all over the walls and bars for one wall. The only window, set high up, was black because it looked out on the night. Furniture was a cot, a dresser, and a metal toilet without a lid.

The big black woman said, “Sorry we got to use a solitary cell for you tonight, honey, but it’s for your own good, there’s no sense placing you in a dorm, you didn’t do nothing to end up here. Not like some of the kids, they’re real bad, no need for you to know, just take it as fact, okay?”

“Okay.”

“That’s why I’m going to have to lock you in, honey. For your own good. Try to get a good night’s sleep and in the morning you can ask questions, the morning people gonna answer your morning questions, okay?”

“Okay.”

“I mean, honey, you won’t be in here long anyway, it’s just until your case gets adjudicated. That means fixed up.”

I know what it means. Press Stop on your tape machine.

“Honey?” the woman repeated.

Grace walked into her jail cell.

—

The following morning when another black woman came by with breakfast on a tray and said, “Rise and shine, what can I get you, missy?” Grace said, “Books.”

“Books…” As if Grace had requested moon rocks. “How old are you?”

“Eleven.”

“Hmm, see what I can do.”

“I read adult books.”

The woman frowned. “You talking dirty stuff?”

“No,” said Grace. “Grown-up reading material—psychology, biology.”

The woman stared at her, skeptical. “You some genius?”

“I’m curious.”

“That ain’t so good around here, missy.”

—

Six hours later three dog-eared fifth-grade textbooks ended up in her cell. Baby math, baby English, baby science.

This was punishment, Grace decided, for being in the wrong place at the wrong time. She wondered where Sam, Ty, and Lily had ended up. Maybe they were right here in different prison cells. Maybe once Grace was let out, she’d see them. She hoped not.

As it turned out, there was nothing to worry about on that account. For three consecutive days she was never let out, mostly the staff seemed to forget about her. She kept quiet, thinking and sleeping, feeling more and more stupid like her brain was rotting and she was drowning in her own emptiness.

And she’d done nothing wrong. Just like the red room.

Keeping calm wasn’t always easy; it required blocking out the cries and screams of prisoners who did make noise.

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