Jill Sorenson - Crash Into Me

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.