'Months, I'd say.' Her answer came without hesitation, punctuated by another shrug, the gesture du jour. Her improved memory did not go unnoticed by Becca, along with her contradiction of Rudy Marquez's story about the Mercedes.
Sonja paced her small living room. She took a quick look out her front window, peeking at the rain through dingy Venetian blinds. An animal trapped in a tight cage of her own making. With the growing darkness outside, the room melded into shadow, a blessing as far as Becca was concerned. But eventually, Sonja flicked on a lamp, the pale yellow struggling to make a difference. Ignoring the deluge, the woman turned and flicked ashes to the floor, a question on her mind.
'Why are you here, talking to me? I mean, it's not like me and Isabel were best friends.'
Time to turn up the heat. She stood and joined Sonja at the window. A crack of thunder made Becca's heart race, but she kept her face stern.
'I have an eyewitness who saw you get into a Mercedes with Isabel the week before she disappeared. So if you lie to me, I'll know it. Now tell me what happened.'
Becca held her gaze rock steady and climbed into the girl's space, her discomfort zone. Sonja only flinched for an instant, but the attitude came back with gusto. She raised her chin in defiance. But soon, her eyes glistened with the onset of tears. The sudden change took Becca by surprise, a tough girl taken down a peg.
'A Mercedes? I don't know anyone with that kind of car. Not then, not now. What's this about, Detective?' A tear slid down her face. Without hesitation, Sonja wiped it away. 'Look, I'm telling you the truth. I don't know anything about Isabel and a Mercedes.'
Becca hung tough. She wasn't done with her bluff.
'And your boyfriend, the one with expensive taste in cars? I suppose he never drove a high-priced ride like that.'
'I don't know who you've been talking to, but I never had a boyfriend with that much jack. Look at me ... at this dump. Does that make sense to you?'
Sonja's shoulders took on the image of profound defeat. She retreated to the sofa and slumped into it. The girl had a point. Had Rudy lied to her about Cavanaugh's connection to Isabel? Why would he do that?
'Back then, I dated some, but no one in particular. I wasn't exactly considered outgoing as a kid. I don't understand. What has this got to do with Isabel?'
Her hardened expression melted into genuine concern. She looked lost. Becca joined her on the couch as the rain pelted the windowpane behind her.
'I'm trying to establish a time line prior to her disappearance. What did you and Isabel argue about?'
'What argument?'
'You said you grew apart, but that usually translates to an argument of some kind.' Becca smiled. 'My sister and I used to . . .' She stopped herself. 'Tell me what happened between the two of you.'
'There's nothing to tell, except . . .' No eye contact, but a dark trail colored her cheeks, makeup mixed with tears.
'I'm listening.' Becca edged nearer.
'Look. Isabel and I were friends until she . . .' Sonja took a deep drag off her cigarette and blew the smoke into the air. With slender fingers, she swiped her face again. 'Her mom is real sweet. I don't want her mother to find out.'
'Find out what?'
Sonja leaned forward and stubbed out her cigarette onto a dirty plate. She collapsed back onto the sofa. With pain in her eyes, she began, 'You gotta understand. Kids like us don't see a lot of cash. The money was tempting. I thought about going to college even. A real pipe dream for suckers, huh?' Bitter regret tainted her voice.
'Cash for doing what?'
'I don't want to get into trouble.' She looked away, tears flowing. 'No one can know.'
Becca reached for her hand, a gesture she couldn't resist. 'Talk to me, Sonja. Tell me what happened.' Becca used her first name, a deliberate move.
A roll of thunder outside muffled quiet sobs. Sonja pulled her hand away, looking frail and thin. She crossed her arms over her chest, withdrawing into the past.
'Did someone try to recruit you into prostitution, Sonja?'
Becca took a chance by prompting her, not exactly following interview protocol. To get at the truth, she nudged Sonja and gambled on the prostitution angle. After a long moment, the young woman nodded and wiped her face with a sleeve, her eyes and cheeks red.
'Who?' Becca inched closer. 'Who did this to you?'
She expected to hear Hunter Cavanaugh's name. Becca held her breath and fixed her eyes on the girl, waiting.
Time stopped. Sonja drew a ragged breath and whispered her secret in shame.
'Isabel Marquez.'
Lightning flashed across the blinds, trailed by a loud crack of thunder. A stunned Becca never heard the sound.
CHAPTER8
'I never did it. I couldn't,' Sonja Garza confided as she stood, her arms wrapped around herself. 'No one knows. I was so ashamed I even thought about it. That's why I lied to you before. Denial is so much easier than admitting it to myself. And I always believed Isabel would twist what happened, to get back at me if I said anything.'
The young woman walked toward the window and peeked through the blinds.
'I never wanted Isabel's family to find out,' she added. 'What good would that do? They've suffered too much already. I didn't want to be the one who told.'
Becca knew what she meant. She'd seen the family's pain imprinted in the eyes of Hortense Marquez. And the brothers each carried his own burden.
'You won't tell them, will you?' Sonja turned her head and looked back over her shoulder. 'I don't think they could handle it.'
'Not sure I'll be able to keep a promise like that. Depends on how the investigation goes.' Becca heard the compassion in Sonja's voice and wanted to reflect the same. 'What happened? Tell me about Isabel.'
A low rumble of thunder and light filtered through the blinds, then vanished, casting the room back into shadows. The meager light from the lamp strained against the gloom, but at least the storm had lost its loud bluster. Sonja turned from the window and leaned against a wall. Her eyes stared straight through Becca. The past eclipsed a dreary afternoon.
'She started hanging out with different people.' Her voice was almost a whisper, choked by regret. 'We grew apart, especially after she pushed so hard to get me to—'
Sonja stopped and lowered her head. Becca distracted her with another question.
'Who did she hang out with . . . exactly?'
She thought for a long moment, then answered, 'I never knew. And there were the rumors.'
'Rumors about what?' Becca asked.
She joined Becca on the sofa and gripped a pillow to her chest.
'Isabel came from a poor family, but all of a sudden, she flashed cash and wore expensive jewelry. I hated math in school, but even I knew how to add two and two.'
'She wore a gold necklace. You know anything about it?'
'A gold necklace?' Sonja's brow furrowed.
'Shaped like a heart with small diamonds on it,' Becca clarified.
Sonja swallowed hard, a look of surprise on her face. Eventually, she shook her head.
'No, I don't know anything about it. I think I saw it on her once or twice. She may have worn it for a class photo. But I never knew where she got it.'
'Come on. You mean you weren't even curious enough to ask about it? If I saw my friend wearing a necklace like that, I'd want to know where she got it.'
'You have to understand, Detective. We weren't talking much by then. She was such a stranger . . . and anything like that only reminded me how she earned it.'
