Carly stamped her foot. “I need your support here, James. I need someone to be strong, because I’m feeling really weak.”
James stood up immediately, taking her in his arms and shielding her with his body, protecting her. “I’m here. I’ll make it better. I promise.”
While they stood there together, drawing strength from each other, a scruffy-looking young man came out of the lobby. His T-shirt was faded and his jeans were torn. Barely glancing at them, he lit up a cigarette and took a deep drag, seeking as much solace in that lonely action as Carly and James had in their embrace.
“That’s my brother,” James said, hardly recognizing him in the surreal situation. Waving to get his attention, he watched Stephen come forward, a puzzled expression on his haggard face.
James was intensely aware of Carly’s slender arms around his neck, the proximity of her body, the smell of her shampoo. He knew how it looked to Stephen, and felt a measure of regret that he hadn’t trusted his brother enough to take him into his confidence.
In addition to confusion, Stephen’s face registered a mixture of emotions James didn’t understand. One was relief. “Damn, man, where have you been?” he asked, glancing at Carly. “You had me worried half to death.”
James felt Carly’s hands drop away from him.
Stephen gave him a canny look. “This your girlfriend?”
“I’m Carly,” she said, flashing a thousand-watt smile.
Stephen blinked, momentarily blinded by her beauty. Then he recovered. “Stephen,” he said, shaking her hand. “No wonder you’ve been hiding out,” he added, arching a brow at James. “I would be, too, if I had such a pretty lady to hide out with.”
James shuffled his feet, uncomfortable with the deception.
“I have to go back inside and wait for my dad,” Carly said, affecting a sulky pout. She didn’t seem very pleased that he hadn’t mentioned her to Stephen.
“I’ll be a few minutes,” James replied. He needed to talk with his brother about things he didn’t want Carly to overhear.
She turned to leave and then halted, moistening her lips. “James?”
“Yeah?”
“Can I have my panties back now?”
His face grew hot. He fumbled in his pocket, came up with them, and pressed the tiny purple bundle in her hand.
She smiled and gave him a quick kiss before she walked away. Both brothers watched her go, admiring her cute little backside all the more for knowing it was bare underneath a scant few inches of well-worn denim.
When she was out of hearing range, Stephen whistled long and low, clapping James on the back. “Oh my God, bro! How in the hell did you hook up with that?”
“I don’t know,” he said, for it was glaringly obvious she was way out of his league. “But it’s not what you think. She’s a nice girl.”
Stephen took a deep drag on his cigarette. “Whatever you say, dude.”
James was adamant. “I mean it. I don’t want you to get the wrong idea about her.”
Stephen studied Carly’s retreating form speculatively. James knew he saw only what she wanted him to see, a sultry façade, but Stephen shrugged, not really caring one way or another. Even before Rhoda and drugs screwed him up, Stephen had been wary of women. He liked looking at them, but that was about it.
“And whatever you do, don’t say anything to Dad.”
Stephen sobered, seeming to understand the reason for James’ secrecy. “Well, James, that’s what I’ve got to talk to you about,” he said, dark blue eyes glinting in the sun. “Dad’s dead.”
When Carly emerged from the ladies’ room, Ben was waiting for her. He clamped his hand around her upper arm, using more pressure than was necessary.
“You’re in big trouble, young lady,” he grated, leading her out the double glass doors.
“Why? I didn’t tell them anything.”
He paused, appalled that his sixteen-year-old daughter had lied to the police. Or, just as he had, simply withheld information. “You talked to them?”
Her perfectly arched brows drew together. “Not really. They asked about Mom’s bracelet.”
Anxiety coursed through him. Why had he believed that motherfucker Grant? Of course they were happy to release Carly-after they were finished grilling her.
She worried at her lower lip. “I said maybe Lisette stole it from your room.”
“Why would you say that?”
Her pretty face crumpled. “I don’t know!”
“You knew she came into my room that night?”
Carly covered her ears with her hands. “No! I don’t want to know, okay?”
Ben looked around the parking lot uneasily. James and an older boy were standing by a tree-lined median, and for once, Carly’s boyfriend was a welcome distraction. “We have to talk about this, but now is not the time. And here is definitely not the place.” He nodded toward James. “What’s up with them?”
“That’s James’ brother, Stephen,” she said miserably. “I guess they’re having a family crisis of their own.”
Ben grunted, feeling less than generous toward James. “Say good-bye. We’re leaving.” When she started to comply, dragging her feet, he added, “And tell James you won’t be seeing him for a while. You’re grounded.”
She whirled around. “What for?”
“For what you got caught doing in the movie theater.”
Carly’s face flushed pink. “They’re fucking liars, Dad.”
“Yeah, right. Tell your boyfriend bye-bye.”
She crossed her arms over her chest. “No.”
Ben saw red. “No?”
“I wasn’t doing anything! Especially compared to what you did upstairs with Summer.” Her voice lowered to a hiss. “And Lisette!”
Fueled by a dangerous mix of fury and shame, Ben dragged Carly over to where James and Stephen were talking quietly underneath a gorgeously blooming jacaranda. “What were you doing to my daughter in the movie theater, you ballsy little white-trash bastard?”
James blanched against the sudden onslaught. He looked from Ben to Carly. “Why don’t you take your hands off her? Can’t you see you’re hurting her?”
Ben released her abruptly. The red marks on her skin were a testament to his loss of control, and having a boy half his age call him on it did not improve his mood. He stepped up to James, towering over him. “Start talking, before I put my hands on you.”
Stephen inched closer, trying to play mediator. “Sir, my brother was just telling me what a nice girl your daughter is-”
“Shut up!” James and Ben said in unison.
Carly covered her face with her hands and wailed.
“I’m not a bastard,” James said. “I might be trash, but I’m not a bastard. My parents were married. Unlike you and Carly’s mother when she was born.”
The cigarette fell, forgotten, from Stephen’s bewhiskered mouth.
Ben felt the heat of rage suffuse his face. “Are you calling my daughter a bastard?” he asked in a low voice.
James sent Carly an apology with his eyes. “No, sir. I’m just letting you know I don’t care for that label.”
“Let me tell you what I don’t care for, James. Last night you said you had good intentions. Today, some asshole cop tells me my sixteen-year-old daughter was going down on you in the movie theater!”
It was James’ turn to flush. “No. That didn’t happen. She’s never done anything like that.”
“I told you, Dad.”
Ben looked from one solemn young face to the other. Carly had lied to him on numerous occasions, and he trusted James about as far as he could throw him, which was probably at least ten feet, in his current state of mind.
“We were just kissing,” James said. “She was sitting on my lap, and I told her to get up because I was getting…uncomfortable. She thought she’d hurt me, because she’s so innocent she didn’t understand.”
James was staring at Ben, honest and steely-eyed. Carly was sitting on the curb, shaki
ng with mortification. Stephen, having located his cigarette, was smoking quietly, analyzing Ben through dark blue eyes identical to James’.
Ben was the only real adult present, but damned if he felt like one. Sometimes this responsible parenting crap was a real pain in the ass. “Why did they say you were on your knees?” he asked Carly.
She looked up. “He put a cup of soda in his lap. I thought I’d squashed something, and he had to ice it. I was only trying to help.”
Stephen laughed softly, and that sound echoed across the quiet corner of the parking lot. Three pairs of eyes glared at him.
Ben rubbed a hand down his face, feeling like the biggest idiot in the world, because he actually believed their story. James had probably edited a few details, for Carly’s sake, but Ben couldn’t fault him for it. Nor did he fool himself into thinking that youthful lust wouldn’t win out eventually over restraint. “You two are going to be the death of me,” he said with a sigh. “I thought Carly was accident-prone enough on her own.”
“Is Nathan here?” James asked.
“He’s inside, filing some paperwork. Why?”
“I was wondering if I could borrow him. I could use a lawyer.”
The tension that had eased from Ben’s shoulders returned, with reinforcements. “You in some kind of trouble?”
James eyed Ben warily. “Maybe. I guess they think I killed my dad.”
CHAPTER 17
After requesting that the slab in the Matthews’ backyard be excavated, and turning in Olivia Fortune’s bracelet to Grant, Sonny had a sit-down with Paula DeGrassi, bringing her up to speed on the federal case.
Ben and Carly had been released pending further investigation. With the new evidence linking Arlen Matthews to the SoCal murders, and to Olivia Fortune’s death, Grant had decided to focus their efforts on him. He and Mitchell went to the Matthews residence to oversee the excavation.
Sonny had no choice but to divulge the truth about James, explaining that he had made the Christmas Eve phone call reporting Lisette’s body.
She knew better than to air her concerns that the evidence against Arlen had been planted, reveal the details of their unfortunate biological connection, or confess that she may have been responsible for his death.
If James didn’t tell either, the point would be moot. DeGrassi said she’d been aware of Arlen Matthews for years. Although none of the prostitutes he’d beaten up had pressed charges, he had an incredibly violent reputation. Any number of wronged women could have done the world a favor and taken him out.
Sonny was weaving a fine web of deception, one that might wrap her up and suffocate her, but she could see no other alternative. Revealing more at this juncture would only draw suspicion to Ben, James, or herself.
Complicating matters, Nathan Fortune had agreed to represent James. Sonny wasn’t looking forward to meeting him across the interrogation table, considering what Ben had just gone through because of her.
She followed DeGrassi down the hall, every nerve in her body on edge.
In the interview room, Nathan was sitting next to James, looking windswept and elegant in navy trousers and a cream-colored sweater with maroon pinstripes. He could have just stepped off the pages of a cologne ad with a nautical theme.
“Ladies,” he said pleasantly.
DeGrassi introduced herself to James, who shook her hand in sullen silence. Sonny studied him as she took her seat. He didn’t look happy to see her.
Neither did Nathan. She supposed he didn’t care for liars infiltrating his family’s ranks. “Is my client under suspicion of committing a crime?” he asked.
“At this time we have no charges pending against him,” DeGrassi hedged.
“Why is he here?”
“His father is a suspect in the murder of Lisette Bruebaker.”
Nathan glanced at James, whose face registered neither relief nor surprise. Even so, the blank expression was telling. It was unusual for a seventeen-year-old boy to wear such an impenetrable mask. With a jerk of his chin, James consented to the interview.
“Did you see your father last night?”
He shifted in his chair. “Sure.”
“What time?”
“Around midnight.”
“Had he been drinking heavily?”
“As always.”
“Did anything unusual happen?”
His blue eyes cut to Sonny and back. “Like what?”
“Late-night visitors…scuffles…accidents?”
Sonny couldn’t help it. She closed her eyes and held her breath, waiting to be outed.
“No,” James said. “When I left, he was asleep.”
Relief washed over her, along with a measure of shame. She was amazed that he would cover for her, appalled that she would let him.
DeGrassi asked about Lisette, and in this, James told the truth. He described every detail of the morning her body was caught in the fishing net, omitting nothing, from his regurgitated Fruit Loops to his father’s callous treatment of the remains. If anyone had been in doubt about what kind of man Arlen Matthews was, they weren’t any longer.
“When did you last see Lisette alive?” DeGrassi asked.
“A few weeks ago, she was at my brother’s.”
“What happened?”
“We talked,” he said shortly, fooling no one.
“You had sex?” DeGrassi interpreted.
“Just oral,” he muttered.
“She performed oral sex on you? Then what?”
He shrugged. “Then nothing.”
“Did you get her phone number? Arrange to meet again?”
“No. It was a one-time thing.”
DeGrassi was speculative. “How do you know she felt the same way?”
Color stained his cheekbones. “She was kind of mad at me when she left. I said ‘Carly’ when I, uh-at the wrong moment.”
“Who’s Carly?”
“My girlfriend.”
DeGrassi didn’t mince words. “You said her name when you ejaculated into Lisette Bruebaker’s mouth?”
James put a shaky hand over his face. “Yeah,” he said, almost inaudibly. He glanced at Nathan. “This was before I started dating Carly, but Lisette knew I liked her. I think that’s why she did…what she did. Anyway, when she left, she said, ‘I’ll tell Carly you said hi.’ So she was threatening me, I guess, saying she was going to tell Carly about it, to embarrass me.”
DeGrassi’s brows lifted. “Did she?”
“Probably not. Carly didn’t even know I existed back then. It wouldn’t have meant anything to her.”
“Did your father know about you and Lisette?”
“No. Why would he?”
“This incident occurred at your brother’s house, correct?”
He followed her logic. “Yeah, but not in front of anyone. We were in the closet. Stephen didn’t know, either.”
“Do you meet a lot of girls at Stephen’s?”
“Some,” he admitted. “But it’s not what you think. Stephen’s girlfriend teases me. My dad called me queer all the time. I felt pressure, you know? To prove myself. Act like a man.”
“Is that how you felt in the closet with Lisette? Like a man?”
“No. I felt like a jerk. That’s why I didn’t tell anyone.”
DeGrassi studied his handsome face. “Do you like boys, too, James?”
James’ eyes darkened. “No.” He leaned back in his chair, distancing himself from the very idea. “Hell, no.” As an afterthought, he turned to Nathan, aware that his attitude had been insulting. “No offense.”
“None taken,” Nathan replied amiably.
“Why do you think your dad accused you of that?”
James stared at the wall behind her head. “Maybe he wished I was queer, so he’d have an excuse to beat me up.” He let out a harsh laugh. “Like he needed an excuse.”
“He physically abused you?”
“Every day,” he said, meeting her eyes.
“Sexually?”
<
br /> James looked at Sonny. Her heart broke for him, but she couldn’t offer him any words of comfort. DeGrassi had threatened her with bodily harm if she interfered. “He didn’t touch me or anything like that. But he did other stuff that I would call sexual abuse.”
“Like what?”
James studied his hands. “He made me watch, when he was with prostitutes. He made me participate.”
“He made you participate in sex with them?”
“No,” he replied with a shudder. “I couldn’t. He made me tie them up. I guess he thought that if I helped, I was just as guilty as he was.”
“Tying up a woman for sex, if she consents, isn’t a crime.”
“Yeah, well, what he did to them should be, if it isn’t.” He put his head in his hands, humiliated to voice his father’s atrocities.
“James, I know this is difficult for you,” DeGrassi said, and gave him a moment. Then she asked, “Are you ready to continue?” When he nodded, DeGrassi brought out the photos of the previous victims. “Did your father ever have contact with these girls?”
James examined them carefully. “Not that I know of.”
“Did you see any of them at Stephen’s house?”
He shook his head. “No.”
“What about Carly’s mom? Did your dad ever meet her?”
“No. Our families didn’t exactly travel in the same social circles.”
“Are you sure you haven’t seen the others?” DeGrassi persisted. “Would you remember them if you had?”
“Yeah. Why wouldn’t I?”
DeGrassi leveled with him. “We know what goes on at your brother’s house. You said you meet girls there. Lisette was known to party. Do you like to party, too?”
He handed back the photos. “Are you asking if I do drugs? If I drink?”
She nodded.
“I’ve tried some stuff,” he said, looking away again, out into space. No one in the room was surprised by that admission. A lot of troubled teenagers experimented with drugs and alcohol. Children of abusers were twice as likely to become addicts themselves. “But I found out something pretty quick.”
“What’s that?”
His gaze met hers, and in that moment, Sonny was convinced that he was speaking as a man, not a boy. “I duck blows a lot easier when I’m sober.”
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