Crash Into Me (31 page)

“Not
by my invitation,” he murmured, no longer concerned with implicating himself.
He was too disillusioned to care.

“Did
Carly know?”

Ben
snapped to attention. “Did Carly know what?”

“That
Lisette had been in your room, in your bed? What would she have thought about
her friend snuggling up to Daddy…wearing Mommy’s bracelet?”

He
felt the blood drain from his face. On some level, he knew that Grant was
trying to manipulate him into saying too much, but his insinuation that Carly
had a motivation for murdering Lisette shook him to the core. Ben would do
anything to protect his daughter. Anything.

“I
heard she’s been experiencing some emotional turmoil lately,” Grant continued,
smooth as silk. “Throwing herself into a rip current. Experimenting with
drugs.”

Under
the table, Ben clenched his hand into a fist.

“Special
Agent Vasquez told me all about her new boyfriend. He seems like
such
a
positive influence. The uniformed officer we sent to pick them up said he found
Carly on her knees in front of him at the movie theater.”

Ben
amended his initial impression of Grant. The man wasn’t trying to goad him into
talking; he was trying to goad him into fighting. “You lie,” he growled,
seconds from exploding across the table.

When
a quick, efficient knock sounded at the door, they both turned to look.

Nathan
poked his head in. His dark hair was attractively windblown, his eyes
smoldering with intensity. “What’d I miss?”

Carly didn’t have a chance to get her
panties back from James before the police officer escorted her from the
theater, claiming there had been a family emergency.

Over
her shoulder, she pleaded with James to follow them, but she wasn’t sure he
had. When he saw the man in uniform, he’d practically climbed the curtains in
his haste to get away. He seemed surprised to discover the policeman was there
for her, not him.

Now
she was in a room with another cop, a hunky FBI agent named Mitchell. He wanted
to know about all the kinky stuff Lisette had been into. Carly didn’t care if
he had awesome biceps, she wasn’t saying shit.

“I
want to call my dad,” she said, affecting a bored tone. “You can’t keep me here
without his consent.”

“You
aren’t being charged with anything, Carly,” Mitchell said amiably. “It’s
perfectly legal for us to ask you a few questions. Lisette’s parents would
thank you for cooperating.”

Carly
rolled her eyes. “Look, I don’t know where she is, okay? I haven’t seen her in
a week.”

“Did
she say where she was going when you talked to her last? Tell you she was
meeting someone? A boyfriend, maybe?”

She
counted off her responses on her fingertips. “No, no, and I don’t know. She
didn’t really have boyfriends, she had targets.”

His
eyebrows lifted. “Targets?”

“That’s
what she called them. Boys she liked. She’d zero in on one, screw him for a
while, and move on.”

“Like
a game? Did you play, too?”

She
shot him a disgusted look. “No.”

“She
was your best friend, right?”

“Yeah.
Was. Past tense.”

“Why
is that?”

Carly
tugged on the frayed hem of her short skirt, uncomfortably aware that she was
wearing nothing beneath it. She’d only meant to tease James, not go all Britney
Spears in public. “I got tired of her sleazy ways, I guess.”

“Did
she target the wrong guy? Your boyfriend, maybe?”

She
gave him a cold smile. “No.”

“Your
dad?”

Carly
felt her face freeze.

“How
long have they been sleeping together?”

She
tossed her long hair over her shoulder. “They aren’t sleeping together,
asshole. I want to call my uncle Nathan. He’s a lawyer.”

Mitchell
leaned forward. “Carly, do you remember a bracelet your mother used to wear? It
said, ‘To Olivia. Love, Ben. Forever.’”

She
shook her head, but her eyes filled up with telltale tears.

“We
found Lisette this morning.”

“Is
she okay?” she whispered, dreading the answer.

“No.
She’s dead.”

Her
heart sank. “What happened to her?”

“That’s
what we’re trying to find out.”

She
moistened her lips, her throat so dry she wasn’t sure she could get the words
out. “Did she have my mom’s bracelet?”

Mitchell
posed a question of his own. “Did your father give it to her?”

Her
protective instinct took over. “He wouldn’t have given her the time of day,”
she returned hotly. “If she had it, it’s because she found it somehow, or stole
it from his room that night—”

“She
was in his room? The night she disappeared?”

Carly
clamped her mouth shut. Wrapping her arms around her middle, she stared down at
the surface of the table until her vision blurred.

“Did
your father and Lisette have an argument, Carly? Did you hear any strange
noises? Sounds of a struggle?”

She
blinked away the tears, refusing to speak.

“What
about your mom and dad? Did they argue a lot?”

Her
jaw clenched and her voice went hard: “I’d rather die than say anything bad
about my dad. He would never hurt my mom. Never.” She glared at him from across
the table, taking in a ragged breath. “I want to talk to my uncle. I know you
can’t keep me here. You can’t make me say another word.”

James waited for Carly in the lobby at the
police station, drumming his fingertips against his jeans-clad thigh, too
intimidated to ask anyone where she was.

As
Arlen would say, he was as nervous as a long-tailed cat in a room full of
rocking chairs. Any minute, he expected a uniform to slap on the cuffs,
arresting him for having his girlfriend in a compromising position in a public
place.

Or
any number of other, unreported transgressions.

James
had witnessed a thousand illegal activities at Stephen’s house, and he was no
lily-white innocent himself. He’d been stealing a pint of whisky for Arlen from
the booze aisle at Neptune Grocery every Saturday night for the past five
years. It was more than luck that he’d never been caught. It was a freaking
miracle.

He
started sweating. Hell, they probably had a poster with his face on it around
here somewhere. They were definitely looking for the anonymous tipster who left
a message about Lisette. What if Summer had already turned him in?

Surreptitiously,
he rose to his feet, holding on to the armrest of the chair for balance.
Putting one foot in front of the other, he counted the steps to the door, his
ears ringing in anticipation of someone saying,
Hey you! Get back here.

He
was only inches from freedom when he heard a voice behind him. “James!”

It
was Carly. He froze, weighing his options. Bolting outside was pretty tempting.
But playing it cool in front of Carly outranked all.

He
turned to see her beautiful, troubled face. A beefy cop had his hand clamped
around her upper arm. Uh-oh.

She
struggled against the unwanted restraint. “This is my boyfriend. Get off me.”

The
cop squinted at James, sizing him up and probably finding him lacking. James
gulped under the examination.

The
officer nodded and released her. “Ma’am,” he said in a polite voice, and ambled
away.

Carly
looked around the lobby uneasily. She seemed as nervous around the law as he
was, if such a thing were possible. “I have to talk to you outside,” she said,
grabbing his arm and leading him away.

“Thank
God,” he replied, hurrying along beside her.

Outside
in the parking lot, she stopped him, her face pale, eyes wide with panic. “They
think my dad killed Lisette.”

His
stomach dropped. “What?”

“Lisette’s
been missing since last Friday, when she stayed over at my house. Now she’s
dead and my dad is in deep shit.”

James
thought of all the secrets he’d been keeping. Some had been building his entire
life. Others had piled up more recently. Arlen’s abuse of women and children.
Lisette’s body. Stephen’s drugs. Summer’s job. Seven minutes in heaven. A
lifetime in hell.

“Fuck,”
he said, sitting down on the curb, putting his face in his hands. “Fuck,” he
repeated, knowing what he had to do.

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.”