Allison Brennan - See No Evil

Dillon walked toward the door, stopping only when Bowen asked, “How did Judge Montgomery die?”

The information would be coming out sooner rather than later. “Penile amputation.” He kept the rest of the details to himself.

Bowen blanched. “Sounds like a sexually motivated crime.”

“Appears so, on the surface.”

“You have a different opinion?”

“I have no opinion at this point.”

“If that’s the case, you have a stronger spine than I thought.”

By the time fourth period ended and lunch began, La Jolla Academy was abuzz with rumors.

“Ohmigod! Did you hear about Emily Montgomery ?”

“She killed herself.”

“No, she tried to kill herself.”

“No, she pretended suicide so she wouldn’t be thrown in jail. Her stepfather’s dead.”

“He was a senator.”

“Dummy, he was a judge. ”

“Maybe one of those people he put in prison killed him.”

“Hey, maybe it was the terrorists, you know, going after people in their homes.”

“Shut up, dumbshit, they use bombs, not knives.”

“Knives? How do you know?”

“I dunno.”

Faye Kessler sat in the far corner of the gym, pretending to eat her lunch. Quiet, reticent, and known on campus as a geek, Faye had few friends at school. That she had been arrested for shoplifting would have surprised not only her teachers, who found her odd but extremely gifted, but her peers, too, who didn’t care enough about her existence to even make note of the occurrence.

Much like her father. If Faye hadn’t broken two display cases at the mall store she’d stolen from, he would have brushed the incident under the rug just like he’d done everything else in his life. She’d gotten his attention for about five minutes. Then he carted her off to a shrink, paid for the displays, and ignored her again.

Get over it.

Yeah, right, she’d been telling herself that for years, ever since her mother walked out, leaving both of them, in order to “find herself” in some country far from America. Faye got a card every August-for her birthday-and that was the only connection with the woman who’d given birth to her, then left seven years later without a second thought.

What Faye knew and what she felt were two completely different things. Sometimes her feelings bubbled up and she couldn’t control her actions. It was both invigorating and terrifying. But most of the time Faye felt nothing. Except when she was angry. She knew this, understood it, but couldn’t control it.

She spotted Mike Olson across the lunchroom. That fluttery feeling came back, starting in her chest and tingling out, down her spine, making her flush. The same feeling she’d had when Trent Payne had invited her to the movies last year. She thought he liked her because he’d told her she was “really sharp” and could get into whatever college she wanted. He’d seemed so impressed with her that she’d mistaken the attention for something more. When he’d kissed her, the same tingles were there, hot and exciting and forbidden, but then he started hurting her and he wouldn’t stop. He tore her new blouse, the one she’d bought just for their date, and tried to pull off her jeans. He was going to rape her, she knew it, while murmuring nice words in her ear, trying to get her to go along with it.

She’d seen then, in the Cadillac truck his parents bought him for his sixteenth birthday, that he had never liked her. He’d thought she’d be easy, an unattractive girl who never had dates, who no one looked at, who got straight A’s in school but no one noticed, not even the teachers. A little attention from a cute football player and she’d be willing to spread her legs and let him fuck her.

She had more self-respect than that.

Not only did she stop him from humiliating her, she’d broken his nose, and a week later his precious truck got broken, too.

Payback.

Mike Olson glanced over at her. Their eyes met. She couldn’t even swallow.

He turned away. Maybe he wasn’t really looking at her. Maybe he didn’t even know her name.

“Faye,” Skip said.

She jumped, her thoughts so focused on Mike Olson that she didn’t see Skip approach. He sat next to her at the lunch table. The tables sat eight, but she had this one all to herself. Faye always ate alone.

“We’re meeting this afternoon,” he said.

“Okay.” She glanced at Skip, Mike’s friend. Had he seen her staring at him? Her pulse quickened. She hoped not.

Skip leaned in. “Deep down Mike’s a jerk like Trent.”

Faye looked at her lunch, her appetite gone. How could Skip even bring up Trent? It was something she’d told them in anonymity. Even though, intellectually, she knew her secrets were no longer her own, no one had said it out loud.

“Hey, I’m sorry, kid.”

Kid. She wasn’t a kid.

“It’s okay.”

“No, it’s not. I’m sorry.” He touched her arm, made her look at him. She blinked back tears, tried to smile. “Men are bastards. Even me. But I don’t want to hurt you. Life sucks and you don’t need crap from your friends. You know I’m your friend, right?”

She nodded, unable to talk. She’d never noticed what beautiful eyes Skip had. Grayish blue, with little flecks of darker gray. Unusual. And long lashes. A small mole on his cheek. No wonder he was so popular.

And now they had a secret together. A huge secret. A secret that bonded them forever.

She smiled a little. “This afternoon. I’ll be there.”

Connor pushed the guilt aside about his plan. Right now, he had to remember that Emily was his number one concern. And if Connor had to use his connections, even if one of them was his brother Patrick, in order to prove her innocence, he would.

Patrick’s e-crimes division was in the far corner of the top floor. It took Connor fifteen minutes to get up there. Unless they were new to the force, those who still didn’t hold a grudge against him for testifying against a fellow officer stopped to ask Connor how he was doing. He felt distinctly uncomfortable. After all, he’d left the force amid a huge scandal. Not his scandal, but he’d uncovered it. It just went higher than he’d thought and he’d been set up to blow.

Just remembering the last six months of his career as a cop made his blood boil with anger and regret. He had been right, but that meant shit when someone in power wanted to destroy you. It was only marginally satisfying that justice had been served for those poor dead girls. Because in the end, he’d lost his job, and the department had been in turmoil for years after. And as much as he was loath to admit it, his ex-brother-in-law Andrew Stanton had done more than his fair share to mend fences in the three years he’d been district attorney.

If Julia Chandler had her way, he would have sat in a prison cell for contempt a helluva lot longer than the three hours she’d managed to keep him there.

Finally, he walked into Patrick’s upstairs work area, a large open room he shared with four other cops, two males and two females. They all looked fresh out of the academy, though their quiet confidence told him looks were deceiving as they worked on eight different computers seemingly simultaneously. Where in the world had Patrick got his technical skill? No one else in the vast Kincaid family, except maybe their baby sister Lucy, could do much more than turn on a computer and check e-mail.

What a difference a few years make.

Patrick looked over, obviously surprised to see Connor. It wasn’t every day that he came by the station. In fact, the last time was when he was working a missing person’s case and needed to chat with Dean Robertson, nearly a year ago.