No One Heard Her Scream

would be close enough, wouldn't it?'

'So approximately seven years ago. Is that correct?' Becca leaned on the table, forcing Sonja to meet her eyes.

'Yeah.'

'And you haven't seen him since that night?'

'No, thank God. Like I told you before, people with money don't exactly travel in my social circle. Why? I thought this was about Isabel.'

Murphy walked behind Becca and caught Sonja's attention, a distraction from the woman's question. She returned his glare, her outward hostility toward him showing, the man who stole her smokes and woke her too damned early. Now he slouched against the wall with the two-way mirror, playing his head game . . . and loving it.

'And you also said Isabel Marquez tried to recruit you into prostitution, to work for Matt Brogan. But you turned her down because you couldn't go through with it. Is that an accurate statement?'

'Yeah, sure.' She fidgeted in her seat and heaved a dramatic sigh, latching her eyes on to Murphy. 'What did you do with my smokes, man? I better get 'em back. They cost money.'

'Smoking is banned in the building. We wouldn't want you to break any laws while you're here.' He slathered on the sarcasm.

Sonja rolled her eyes and sank into her chair, ignoring him again. Becca knew how tough a job that was.

'Look, I already told you all this,' the young woman said.

'Yes, you did. And you also told me Isabel arranged for you to attend a party at the Cavanaugh estate around that same time. Can you tell me about it?'

Sonja regurgitated the same story she had told Becca before, nearly verbatim.

'So Matt Brogan insisted Isabel set you up. He raped you and allowed others at the party to do the same. Is that true?'

'Yeah, Isabel set me up all right. And she left me there . . . with them.'

'And even though you believed you were drugged, you remember enough of the incident to make this claim.'

'You don't forget somethin' like this, lady. I still get nightmares.'

'Why do you think she did it?'

'Because of Brogan. He's a mean son of a bitch. When he wants somethin', he gets it.'

'And he wanted you.' Becca didn't bother to attach a question to her statement, knowing Sonja couldn't resist elaborating.

'Yeah, he wanted me all right. He wanted what he couldn't have otherwise. Guys like that don't take no for an answer. I found out the hard way.'

'How did Isabel feel about Brogan's interest in you? Did she ever act jealous?'

Sonja raised her voice and clenched her fists on the table until her knuckles went white.

'She hated it! The bastard never got enough. For him, an innocent young girl had a target on her back. Fair game and open season year-round. Isabel despised him for it, but she was too weak to say no and walk away. For whatever reason, she needed him like an addict needs a fix. Running with a guy like that? She was bound to get into trouble.'

A glimpse of personal truth. Becca knew with the right question, centered on Sonja's feelings for Brogan, the woman might project her own emotion onto Isabel, a coy game. She liked to dangle a bit of truth in front of Becca, her pattern of lying.

'And he was the one who bought her the expensive gold necklace, the one with a pendant shaped like a heart with diamonds on it. Isabel told you Brogan bought it for her, right?'

'Yeah, she did. She bragged about it in fact. Tried to tell me if I worked for him, I could have the same things, like it would be enough.' Sonja leaned her elbows onto the table, her eyes fixed on Becca. 'You know, you should really be talking to Brogan about all this. But you promised to keep my name out of it. He'd kill me if he knew. You won't tell him, will you?'

'No, he won't be hearing it from me.' Becca raised an eyebrow and crossed her arms. Behind her, Murphy cleared his throat and shuffled his feet.

''Cause I think the son of a bitch killed Isabel and dumped the body where no one would find it. She knew too much. I don't know how or where he did it, but I got a gut feeling he's behind it.' Sonja narrowed her eyes. 'Hey, why all the questions about Matt Brogan? Sounds like you believe me. He's a sick, twisted guy.'

'No more twisted than a woman who arranges a rendezvous with the bastard who raped her seven years ago. A little mattress mambo at a fleabag motel off Guadalupe Street sounds like more than just talk. It sounds like a history of lies and cover-ups.'

Sonja's eyes grew wide, and her mouth opened. Her face twitched with a nervous tic of her lips.

Murphy turned a chair around next to Sonja, and straddled it, his elbows on the backrest. 'Maybe you got a different definition of hard feelings. Sounds real cozy to me.'

'You see where I'm coming from, Sonja?' Becca gestured with her hands. 'Matt Brogan is hard to shut up once he gets going, especially when he's got a different version of the truth. And you lying to Murphy and me is proof enough you're hiding something. You've already lied about how well you knew the man who allegedly raped you. Hell, for all we know you've got him on your Christmas card list. That makes no sense if what you said is true. He didn't rape you.'

'He told you that?'

'And a lot more. Care to revise any of your previous statements?' Becca asked.

'Matt's here? God, is he pissed?'

'He's been better.' Becca cocked her head to one side.

A panicked look spread across Sonja's face. 'If he knows I said anythin', he'll kill me.'

'You should have thought about that before you lied to me . . . and implicated him.'

Implying a dead guy was alive and kicking wouldn't play too well with the church crowd. But police used all sorts of tactics to get a confession, part of the fine line Becca walked. This session would be recorded and used in court. If the defense screamed foul, they would be opening a nasty can of worms about Son-ja's relationship to Brogan, allowing the prosecution to pick at an old festering wound in front of a jury. It wouldn't be worth the risk.

Sonja raked fingers through her hair, then clasped her hands to the back of her neck. She looked deep in thought, considering her options and taking a stroll through her maze of lies. The woman released her grip and let her arms land on the table with a thump.

'You lied about the necklace, too.' Becca rocked forward on the edge of her seat and watched the color drain from Sonja's face. 'Brogan said so. And considering he's the one who allegedly bought the thing according to you, that's another strike against your version of reality. The guy's got a pretty healthy ego, but with your track record of lying, I'd say he's the odds-on favorite to pull ahead in the stretch. And as for him raping you? He said he never needed to. You were all over him.'

'The rape happened. I swear.'

For the first time, a tear rolled down Sonja's cheek. Before yesterday, Becca might have believed she'd been capable of remorse, but not today.

'Oh, Matt had plenty to say about the rape.'

'He told you?' Sonja asked, shock on her face. She winced and wrapped her arms over her chest and rocked back and forth. After a long moment, she opened up. 'He forced me to get Isabel to the party. You don't know what he's like.'

'You knew Isabel would be raped. You could've said no.'

'Not to Brogan.' Her eyes glazed over. 'Isabel was the party. Him and his friends were waiting for us to get there . . . Isabel to get there. I slipped something into her drink, thinking it would make it easier for her to take it. And maybe she wouldn't know I had anything to do with what happened. But Brogan screwed that up, too. He kept her after the party . . . for his men. No drugs.'

More tears, but Becca got the feeling these tasted bitter with regret, more from getting caught than any real remorse.