Fifteen
“OKAY,” HELEN SAYS, “let’s go over this again, Father McCoy.”
We’re sitting in the interrogation room at the Myerton Police station. Helen is across the table from Father McCoy and Angela Jenkins. I’m in a chair off to the side. She let me sit in as long as I was quiet. We have been here for about an hour, Helen asking questions, Father McCoy giving brief answers when he answered at all, his lawyer making notes on her legal pad and occasionally interjecting.
“My client,” Jenkins is saying, “has already answered your questions, Detective. I don’t see why you keep going over the same ground.”
“Because, Ms. Jenkins, your client isn’t telling the truth,” Helen says.
“And you know that how?”
Helen hadn’t mentioned the text messages up to this point. I notice her take a file folder
