Faye Kellerman - Justice

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The eighth book in the hugely popular Peter Decker and Rina Lazarus series from New York Times bestselling author Faye KellermanThe cruel and bizarre slaying of a beautiful teen leads Detective Decker into the dark heart of an exotic subculture: the seamy, sometimes violent world of Southern California's rootless, affluent youth. But even the confession of a disturbed kid with cold "killer eyes" cannot soothe Decker's inner torment. For he knows in his gut this crime goes much deeper and higher than anyone expects – and that true justice, brutal and complete, has yet to be done.

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“Yes, it sounds ducky.”

He bent down and kissed my forehead. “You’re a great sport.”

“Thank you,” I muttered. “You can put it on my tombstone as an epitaph.”

He left without answering me. I shuddered. I was sorry I’d made the wisecrack.

After the break, Chris became very mathematical about his proportions. He measured distances and angles—from my shoulder to my hand, from my hand to his headboard. He struggled with many positions until he found a couple of poses he liked. By the time he actually began drawing, it was close to eleven. At one in the morning, Chris ripped up his current work.

“I’m fading.” He paused. “You looked tired, too.”

I was exhausted. I never realized that modeling was such hard work. He untied me. I shook out my limbs, feeling numb and drained. He placed the comforter around my shoulders, then told me to put my clothes on.

He didn’t see me when I walked into the living room. I watched him play back his answering machine messages, the last being a girl telling him to get his butt over to Tom’s because he was missing a terrific party. I knew the voice. She was pretty and loose—two traits that made her very popular. Short blond hair and bright blue eyes. The sex goddess of Central West Valley High.

“Cheryl Diggs,” I said.

Chris turned the machine off and pivoted to face me. “You’ve got a better ear than I thought.”

“For some things.” I rubbed my eyes. “What’s the story with you and her? Why is she always giving you neck rubs?”

“What are you really asking me, Terry? You want to know whether I’ve slept with her? Yes, I have.”

I looked away. Chris said, “You want me to treat you like I treat her, Terry?”

“No, but …”

He waited for me to complete my sentence.

I sat on his sofa. He sat next to me. I didn’t look at him. “I’m not a nun, Chris. I have sexual feelings—”

“I know that—”

“I also have human feelings. I get jealous.”

“And that’s precisely why I’m not sleeping with you. I don’t want to hurt you.”

And what could I say to that? “You don’t mind hurting Cheryl?”

“Cheryl’s been around the block. I walk away tomorrow, she couldn’t care less.”

“How do you know?”

“I know.”

“Yeah, you’re a mind reader.”

“No, I’m not. I know she doesn’t care because she’s promiscuous. Terry, I’d rather be with you. But you’re complicated. Cheryl’s easy. So that’s why I’m with her. Any other questions?”

I didn’t answer. He blew out air. “Look, we’re both real tired. How about we try this again next week?”

Finally I kicked the words out. “I don’t think so. I’m a tutor, Chris, not a model. I don’t feel comfortable doing this, even for immortality.”

“But you’re a great model.”

“Thank you, but it’s irrelevant—”

“Let me show you some of the drawings. Maybe they’ll change your mind.”

He started up, but I held his arm. At least he didn’t tense. I said, “It won’t change my mind.”

He tapped his foot. “Look, you’re making fifteen an hour as a tutor, right? I’ll pay you fifty an hour to model for me.” He glanced at his watch. “Tonight’s haul would be two hundred and fifty just like that. That’s great bread by anyone’s standards.”

I glared at him. “You think I’m holding out for money?”

“No, of course not. I was just trying to motivate you—”

“By offering me money? I’m not a nun, Christopher, but I’m not a whore, either.”

The room fell quiet. Something wasn’t right.

I said, “You know, Chris, you’re doing okay in your work. Maybe it would be better—”

“No, no, no, no, no.” He smiled weakly. “I’ll behave myself. Forget about this whole modeling thing. I shouldn’t have … let’s just go back to the way it was.”

My head was reeling. “Chris, that isn’t possible—”

“Sure it is.” He began to pace. “It’s just perspective, Terry. That’s all it is. I can view you this way. Or I can view you that way. You can be my girlfriend. Or you can be my tutor. Or you can be my model. It’s just perspective, compartmentalizing. You know what I’m saying?”

I stood and slipped the strap of my bag over my shoulder. “No, I really don’t.”

“Terry, please don’t leave.” He grabbed my hand. “Just sit a moment, okay?”

With great reluctance, I sat back down. He sat next to me. Calmly, he said, “Just tell me what you want.”

“I don’t want anything, Chris. Everything’s okay.”

“Then if everything’s okay, we’ll go back to the way it was. You’re my tutor, I’m your student. I’ll see you on Monday then.”

I kneaded my hands. “I think …” I cleared my throat. “It really would be better if you found another tutor.”

The room turned silent and cold. I started shivering. He rubbed my arms.

“Is that what you want, Teresa?”

My eyes became moist. “I don’t know.”

“We’re both too tired to make decisions. Let’s talk on Monday.”

“Chris, this past week has been real intense. I need a break. How about if you call me in a week, okay?”

He stared at me for a long time.

“Please, Christopher. If it’s love, it can wait a week.”

His eyes never left mine. Staring me down. Finally he shrugged. “Sure, I’ll call you in a week.”

Suddenly, I could breathe. “You’re not mad?”

“Mad at you?” His smile was wide but off. “I could never be mad at you. Sure, I’ll call in a week.”

We both knew he’d never call again. He dropped my hands and scratched his head. “In the meantime, I’ve said some things to you in confidence.”

“You know I’m very trustworthy.” I laughed nervously. “Besides, you have some pretty detailed drawings of me. In the leverage department, you’ve got a clear advantage.”

He laughed out loud. “Yeah, you’re right about that.”

“Can I have the drawings, Chris?” I gave him as earnest a look as I could muster. “Please?”

But he shook his head no. “Don’t worry. I’ll keep them locked up. No one but me will ever see them.” He crossed himself. “That much I swear.”

“Why can’t I have them?”

He smiled slowly. “Because they’re mine.”

9

Over the weekend I had second thoughts. By Monday, I was determined to talk to him. I spotted him before first period. He was with his friends, Cheryl Diggs on his lap, his hands traveling her body like ants on a sandhill. She was equally demonstrative. From a distance, it looked like he saw me. He paused, then brought Cheryl’s face to his and devoured her mouth.

Something snapped inside as I walked away, a long-buried aching that surfaced as a ravenous need for love and affection.

I became moonstruck and boy, did Chris know it! For the next three months, he drew me into a horrid game of “I told you so.” And the more he tortured me, the more I lapped it up. I knew I had reached rock bottom when I found myself flirting with Steve Anderson just to get close to Chris. Next thing I knew I was going to the parties.

The parties.

There was always some house available, somebody with out-of-town parents. The drugs were plentiful, the booze flowed like tapwater, and sex was open and often. Chris sprawled out on the floor, one hand up Cheryl’s blouse, the other down her pants. Her hands on his crotch, teasing him to a massive erection.

I looked away.

But I always came back for more. The only thing I can say in my defense is that I never let Steve touch me in public. In private, though I guarded my virginity like a chastity belt, I had no choice but to give him something if I was to keep him. And I needed to keep him because he was my link to Chris. I hated doing things with him. I wondered if he told his friends about me. I wondered if he told Chris. How I despised myself.

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