Crash Into Me (10 page)

She
kept her eyes on his face as she extended her hand. “Mr. Leeds? I’m Special
Agent Vasquez.”

Leeds
didn’t return the favor, dropping his gaze to give her body a thorough
examination, but he did return her handshake.

Clearing
her throat, she added, “Thank you for agreeing to speak with me.”

“My
pleasure,” he murmured, taking a seat at the same time she did. The guard who’d
escorted him stood sentry outside the door. When she inclined her head, Deputy
Duncan joined him there. Leeds raised his brows and studied her anew, seeming
impressed by her lack of concern at being left alone in a room with him.

She
got right down to business. “What can you tell me about Darrius O’Shea?”

His
eyes narrowed. “What do you want to know?”

“Did
he talk about the murder?”

Leeds
shifted back in his chair, bracing his hands on the edge of the table between
them. A cocky-looking woodpecker twitched on the middle of his forearm.
“Maybe.”

Sonny
didn’t have any bargaining chips. Hopefully, the novelty of her presence here
would be enough to keep him talking. “Did he ever claim to be innocent?”

“Sure,”
he said with a smirk. “We all are.”

“Did
you believe him?”

He
shrugged. “Guys with clear consciences don’t usually hang themselves.”

Good
point. “Do you think he was mentally disturbed?”

“We
all are,” he repeated, not smiling this time.

“What
was his state of mind in the days before the suicide?” she pressed. “Did he
seem disturbed? Was he sleeping, eating, acting strange?”

Leeds
considered this question more carefully than the others. “He had nightmares,”
he admitted. “’Nam stuff. They got worse and worse. During the day, he hardly
ever talked, but in his sleep he wouldn’t shut up.” He ran a hand over his
smooth head. “Drove me batshit.”

“What
did he say?”

“Nothing
that made much sense. Soldier’s orders. Sometimes he would mumble that he
didn’t do it. Others, he’d say he was sorry. Over and over again, ‘I’m sorry.’”
Leeds rolled his big shoulders, as if his muscles were tense.

“Was
he speaking to his war comrades?”

“I
don’t know.”

“Did
you ever ask him?”

“No,”
he said shortly, his eyes blazing with scorn. Men, in or out of prison, rarely
questioned each other about personal issues.

“Is
there another inmate he confided in?” she continued, glancing at his tattooed
forearm. Leeds was obviously a member of the Peckerwoods, a dangerous all-white
gang. “A group he was affiliated with?”

“Not
really,” he said, cracking his knuckles. “He kept to himself.”

Sonny
felt a wash of frustration. Leeds wasn’t exactly a fountain of information.
“Did you notice anything different about him, that final night?”

“Yeah,”
Leeds said, his voice flat. “He was quiet.”

She
left the prison feeling conflicted. Last week after studying O’Shea’s file,
she’d spoken to the detectives who had…facilitated his confession. The
interrogation tactics they’d used were hardly cruel or unusual, and if they
hadn’t delved too deeply into O’Shea’s motives, it was because they hadn’t
needed to.

The
electrical cord yielding his fingerprints was better than a smoking gun.

Even
so, Sonny found herself doubting the veracity of O’Shea’s sworn statement.
Despite her profession, she had very little confidence in the criminal justice
system. It wasn’t beyond her scope to believe Darrius O’Shea had been framed,
coerced, or manipulated.

The
person she cared about most—her brother, Rigo—was in prison, and his situation
colored her worldview. He was guilty, of course, but that fact didn’t make her
love him any less.

Sighing,
she drove back to La Jolla, navigating freeway traffic with absentminded ease.
On a whim, she passed Neptune Street and continued on to Shores Beach, where
O’Shea had been arrested. She parked in a pay lot and got out of her rental
car, crossing her arms over her chest as she walked across the sand.

An
affluent area like Torrey Pines didn’t have a large homeless population. The
beaches were well patrolled, the sidewalks clean, and the boutiques upscale.
The cost of living here was too high for most street people. Fast food,
inexpensive clothing, and cheap liquor weren’t readily available.

She
looked down the beach, past the cliffs leading toward San Diego Harbor. Closer
to the busy metropolis, there were always vagrants, some of whom wandered along
the coast, drawn by the lure of soft sand and a comfortable sleep.

Wind
whipping at her short hair, she cupped a hand over her eyes and considered the
opposite direction. Windansea Beach, where Ben lived, was only a few miles to
the north.

Nibbling
at her lower lip, she pulled her attention back to her immediate surroundings.
The small parking lot was about half full. She didn’t see any bearded men or
overloaded shopping carts, but it was broad daylight, and there were some nooks
and crannies to hide in at the base of the cliffs.

Out
on the water, there were only surfers, black wetsuits gleaming in the sun.

Lisette Bruebaker was in love.

Carly’s
dad was so freaking
hot.
Every time she got close to him she thought she
might go up in flames. She’d been practicing her sex kitten expressions in the
mirror all week, along with the “Oops! I dropped something” ruse she employed
at school. Boys never failed to sneak a peek down her top, or up her skirt,
when she wanted them to.

Ben
Fortune had never looked at her that way, but she hadn’t targeted him for
seduction before. He’d be a hell of a notch in her bedpost. The man was a catch
and a half.

On
the flip side, Carly had been a total drag lately. She’d been grounded since
her dad caught them getting stoned in her bedroom last weekend, so they
couldn’t go anywhere, and Carly wouldn’t even consider smoking weed again.
Every time Lisette brought it up, Carly made a pouty face and said it made her
“freak out.”

If
Lisette’s parents hadn’t made plans to go out of town, Ben probably wouldn’t
have let her come over. He was
way
too strict. Carly wasn’t allowed to
have friends in her room when she was on restriction, and he’d been really
steamed about the pot. He’d actually grabbed Lisette’s wrist and taken the
joint right out of her hand. It was the only time she could remember him
touching her.

He’d
been so…forceful. Mmm.

Drag
or not, Carly was a good friend to have. Half the boys at school were in love
with her. Or in love with her dad, which amounted to the same. Lisette might
have been jealous if she hadn’t benefited from the association. Carly was a
perfect partner in crime. Guys were always approaching Lisette to get to her.

Carly
didn’t put out, but Lisette did, so it was a win-win.

Unfortunately,
things had been going sour between them for weeks. Carly had been acting weird
since way before the pot incident, and Lisette had the feeling this sleepover
was going to be their last. Carly just couldn’t keep up with Lisette’s wild
ways.

If
Lisette was going to make a move on Ben, it would have to be tonight. This
might be her only chance.

After
dinner, Ben cleared off the kitchen table and the three of them pasted together
a family scrapbook, like the frickin’ Brady bunch. It was totally lame, except
there were a couple of hunky photos of Ben without his shirt on. Carly’s mom
had also been super-sexy. Dark-haired and sultry. Like Carly, only with bigger
boobs.

Lisette
liked to fool around with girls, too, just for fun. It sure got the boys to
take notice, and it was kinky. She’d even talked Carly into kissing her once,
but Carly had giggled like a dork the whole time and totally ruined the mood.

Lisette
hoped Ben Fortune was kinky. He’d have to be, to do it with her, wouldn’t he?

Getting
into the spirit of the evening, she let a pencil roll off the table. Oops!
“I’ll get that,” she said breathlessly, making sure her cleavage was on full
display as she bent down.

It
turned out to be a total waste. He didn’t even notice.

Later,
Ben took her and Carly to the video store to rent DVDs. He always let them get
whatever they wanted, and although Lisette had requested
Cabin Fever,
Carly picked some dumb movie about racing cars:
The Fast and the Furious.

Ben
didn’t watch with them, but he did check in a few times, to Lisette’s delight.
To her disappointment, he didn’t look her way when she flashed her panties at
him.

Lisette
wished they’d rented scary movies instead. She loved scary movies. They were
always full of horny teenagers, and the screaming and stuff made her hot.

Hours
later, when Carly finally fell asleep, Lisette was struck by inspiration. She
knew one thing she could do, something she was damned good at, and it never failed
to hold a man’s attention.

Ben was having the
most realistic erotic dream of his life. Summer had not only dropped her towel,
she’d dropped to her knees in front of him, and was taking him into her mouth,
drawing him deep, practically eating him alive.

He
was reaching down to tell her to take it easy, they had all night, when he came
up with a tangle of long, curly hair.

Oh,
shit.

Coming
fully awake, he jumped out of bed, stumbling, his feet still wrapped up in the
sheets. Light from the hallway illuminated the room enough for him to confirm
that the woman in his bed wasn’t Summer.

It
wasn’t a woman at all, but a sixteen-year-old girl.

His
daughter’s best friend, Lisette.

“Don’t
you want me to finish?”

Following
her gaze down his body, he realized he was fully aroused, and she was
responsible for it. This wasn’t an erotic dream. It was a fucking
nightmare.

He
jerked his boxer shorts up with shaking hands. “Get out,” he said through
gritted teeth, feeling totally violated.

She
pouted prettily.

“Get
the fuck out, now!” He looked around the room in a panic, as if the pedophile
police were about to burst in on them. “I’m going to call your mom and tell her
about this, you little—” He bit off the word he was about to say, reminding
himself that Lisette was just a confused girl, not much different from Carly,
and he would go apeshit if some unfeeling bastard called his daughter names.

Her
face crumpled. “But I love you!”

“Oh,
Christ,” he muttered, turning away from the sight of her naked body.

Like
Carly’s cutting herself, this was a situation he couldn’t have anticipated. He
knew Lisette was a problem child and a bad influence, that she wore too much
makeup and too few clothes. Her parents let her run wild, and he’d always felt
kind of sorry for her. Never once had he imagined she would try to climb into
bed with him.

He
should have locked his door.

“Just
get out of my room, Lisette,” he said over his shoulder. “I’m not interested in
little girls. Don’t ever do this again.”

“I’m
not a little girl, you asshole, I’m a woman!”

He
felt the pillow hit his back, and was infuriated to think that Carly might
wander in on this insanity. He couldn’t make Lisette leave, short of physically
removing her, and he wasn’t going anywhere near her. Spine stiff with fury, he
walked out of the room.

Downstairs,
as he dialed her mother’s cell phone number with stabbing fingers, it occurred
to him that Lisette would have a very different story to tell about tonight’s
debacle, one that could get him into a considerable amount of trouble.

If
he kept his mouth shut, she probably would, too.

Then
again, silence implied guilt.

Before
he could rethink his actions, Lisette’s mother answered. Her voice was low and
throaty, as distinctive as always. From the background noise, it sounded like
she was at a party.