Tom opened his morning newspaper at the breakfast table. Joyce sat a cup of coffee down in front of him as the doorbell rang.
"Probably Ben," Joyce announced. "I'll get it,"
Moments later, Ben sauntered into the kitchen.
"Morning, Jones,"
"Morning, sir,"
"Have a seat. I haven't finished my coffee,"
Ben sat at the table. "Coffee, Ben?" Joyce asked.
"No thanks Mrs. Barnaby,"
"What's on your agenda today?" Tom asked Ben curiously.
"Well," Ben drummed his fingers on the table, "I want to look into the father. He seems intent on keeping us away from Sophie, don't you think?"
Tom nodded.
"And I can't help but wonder why he doesn't want us talking to her,"
"Very good, Jones,"
"Sir?"
"You're reading my mind, as all good sergeants should for their inspectors," Tom smiled.
Later that day, Jones stared at his computer screen in somewhat disbelief at the information he'd just discovered.
"Sir, take a look at this,"
Tom came around the side of Jones's desk. "What is it?"
"Mr. Joseph Quinn is not Sophie's father. He's her uncle. Apparently, Giles Quinn, Sophie's biological father died when she was seven. Two years later her mother married Giles's brother, Joseph,"
"That's got to be a lot for a little girl," Tom remarked.
"That's a lot for anyone," Jones agreed.
"Now, the question is what do we do with this information?"
"We could ask him directly why he didn't tell us,"
Tom thought, "No. No yet. Sophie is being released today. Let's go to the Quinn home later and gently prod around and see what we can discover,"
"Yes, sir. Something else. Toxicology is back from Sophie's blood work at the hospital. She had the date rape drug in her system,"
"What's that again?"
Jones double checked the report. "Rohypnol, sir."
"Right. Let's go,"
When they arrived at the house they found Sophie and her mother at the kitchen table. Mr. Quinn was away at work. Tom took the opportunity to ask Mrs. Quinn for a cup of tea, and while he had her occupied in the kitchen, Ben sat down opposite of Sophie. If he thought she looked rough yesterday, today somehow, she looked worse. Her color had diminished noticeably, and she'd been crying. He was sure of it.
"Sophie, remember me from yesterday?"
Her lip twitched, "Of course I do," She made it seem like it was the silliest question.
He chuckled, "I guess that was redundant to ask. I get the feeling you wanted to tell me something yesterday before your father came into the room?"
She sighed and looked towards the front door. "I still can't talk about it,"
"Do you know who hurt you, Sophie?" Ben asked.
She nodded, barely. A quick shake of her head.
Ben stood and moved to sit beside her. "Then tell me, please. We can protect you, I promise."
"You can't,"
Jones sighed in frustration. He was sure she wanted to tell him something, but every time he thought she might reveal what it was, she shut down. Just before her mother reentered the room, Jones took her hand.
She gasped at the contact, but didn't pull away. He placed his card into her palm.
"Call me. Anytime, and for anything," he whispered.
Sophie quickly stuffed the card into her pocket.
"Jones? All finished?" Tom asked.
"Yeah," he answered.
"Thank you ladies for your time," Tom told them.
"Can you please leave us alone now? Sophie doesn't know anything about what happened. She can't remember, and all you two are doing is making her feel worse," Mrs. Quinn cried.
Tom nodded awkwardly as they headed for the door.
"Was it you?" Sophie asked suddenly.
"Excuse me?" Ben turned.
"Was it you who found me?"
Ben blinked, "Yes. I was there along with the other officers,"
Sophie nodded silently. She looked as if there was more she wanted to ask of him, but instead she looked away and Jones followed Barnaby out the door.
"Do you think they ever let her out of their sight?" Jones quipped. But he was only half joking.
"I'm beginning to understand why she may have climbed out the window," Barnaby answered as they climbed into the car. "Tomorrow, I want you to go back to the market where she works. See if anyone has heard anything from her, or if they know when she's going back to work. Unofficially."
"Yes, sir,"