“You knew she came into my room that night?”
Carly covered her ears with her hands. “No! I don’t want to know, okay?”
Ben looked around the parking lot uneasily. James and an older boy were standing by a tree-lined median, and for once, Carly’s boyfriend was a welcome distraction. “We have to talk about this, but now is not the time. And here is definitely not the place.” He nodded toward James. “What’s up with them?”
“That’s James’ brother, Stephen,” she said miserably. “I guess they’re having a family crisis of their own.”
Ben grunted, feeling less than generous toward James. “Say good-bye. We’re leaving.” When she started to comply, dragging her feet, he added, “And tell James you won’t be seeing him for a while. You’re grounded.”
She whirled around. “What for?”
“For what you got caught doing in the movie theater.”
Carly’s face flushed pink. “They’re fucking liars, Dad.”
“Yeah, right. Tell your boyfriend bye-bye.”
She crossed her arms over her chest. “No.”
Ben saw red. “No?”
“I wasn’t doing anything! Especially compared to what you did upstairs with Summer.” Her voice lowered to a hiss. “And Lisette!”
Fueled by a dangerous mix of fury and shame, Ben dragged Carly over to where James and Stephen were talking quietly underneath a gorgeously blooming jacaranda. “What were you doing to my daughter in the movie theater, you ballsy little white-trash bastard?”
James blanched against the sudden onslaught. He looked from Ben to Carly. “Why don’t you take your hands off her? Can’t you see you’re hurting her?”
Ben released her abruptly. The red marks on her skin were a testament to his loss of control, and having a boy half his age call him on it did not improve his mood. He stepped up to James, towering over him. “Start talking, before I put my hands on you.”
Stephen inched closer, trying to play mediator. “Sir, my brother was just telling me what a nice girl your daughter is-”
“Shut up!” James and Ben said in unison.
Carly covered her face with her hands and wailed.
“I’m not a bastard,” James said. “I might be trash, but I’m not a bastard. My parents were married. Unlike you and Carly’s mother when she was born.”
The cigarette fell, forgotten, from Stephen’s bewhiskered mouth.
Ben felt the heat of rage suffuse his face. “Are you calling my daughter a bastard?” he asked in a low voice.
James sent Carly an apology with his eyes. “No, sir. I’m just letting you know I don’t care for that label.”
“Let me tell you what I don’t care for, James. Last night you said you had good intentions. Today, some asshole cop tells me my sixteen-year-old daughter was going down on you in the movie theater!”
It was James’ turn to flush. “No. That didn’t happen. She’s never done anything like that.”
“I told you, Dad.”
Ben looked from one solemn young face to the other. Carly had lied to him on numerous occasions, and he trusted James about as far as he could throw him, which was probably at least ten feet, in his current state of mind.
“We were just kissing,” James said. “She was sitting on my lap, and I told her to get up because I was getting…uncomfortable. She thought she’d hurt me, because she’s so innocent she didn’t understand.”
James was staring at Ben, honest and steely-eyed. Carly was sitting on the curb, shaking with mortification. Stephen, having located his cigarette, was smoking quietly, analyzing Ben through dark blue eyes identical to James’.
Ben was the only real adult present, but damned if he felt like one. Sometimes this responsible parenting crap was a real pain in the ass. “Why did they say you were on your knees?” he asked Carly.
She looked up. “He put a cup of soda in his lap. I thought I’d squashed something, and he had to ice it. I was only trying to help.”
Stephen laughed softly, and that sound echoed across the quiet corner of the parking lot. Three pairs of eyes glared at him.
Ben rubbed a hand down his face, feeling like the biggest idiot in the world, because he actually believed their story. James had probably edited a few details, for Carly’s sake, but Ben couldn’t fault him for it. Nor did he fool himself into thinking that youthful lust wouldn’t win out eventually over restraint. “You two are going to be the death of me,” he said with a sigh. “I thought Carly was accident-prone enough on her own.”
“Is Nathan here?” James asked.
“He’s inside, filing some paperwork. Why?”
“I was wondering if I could borrow him. I could use a lawyer.”
The tension that had eased from Ben’s shoulders returned, with reinforcements. “You in some kind of trouble?”
James eyed Ben warily. “Maybe. I guess they think I killed my dad.”
CHAPTER 17
After requesting that the slab in the Matthews’ backyard be excavated, and turning in Olivia Fortune’s bracelet to Grant, Sonny had a sit-down with Paula DeGrassi, bringing her up to speed on the federal case.
Ben and Carly had been released pending further investigation. With the new evidence linking Arlen Matthews to the SoCal murders, and to Olivia Fortune’s death, Grant had decided to focus their efforts on him. He and Mitchell went to the Matthews residence to oversee the excavation.
Sonny had no choice but to divulge the truth about James, explaining that he had made the Christmas Eve phone call reporting Lisette’s body.
She knew better than to air her concerns that the evidence against Arlen had been planted, reveal the details of their unfortunate biological connection, or confess that she may have been responsible for his death.
If James didn’t tell either, the point would be moot. DeGrassi said she’d been aware of Arlen Matthews for years. Although none of the prostitutes he’d beaten up had pressed charges, he had an incredibly violent reputation. Any number of wronged women could have done the world a favor and taken him out.
Sonny was weaving a fine web of deception, one that might wrap her up and suffocate her, but she could see no other alternative. Revealing more at this juncture would only draw suspicion to Ben, James, or herself.
Complicating matters, Nathan Fortune had agreed to represent James. Sonny wasn’t looking forward to meeting him across the interrogation table, considering what Ben had just gone through because of her.
She followed DeGrassi down the hall, every nerve in her body on edge.
In the interview room, Nathan was sitting next to James, looking windswept and elegant in navy trousers and a cream-colored sweater with maroon pinstripes. He could have just stepped off the pages of a cologne ad with a nautical theme.
“Ladies,” he said pleasantly.
DeGrassi introduced herself to James, who shook her hand in sullen silence. Sonny studied him as she took her seat. He didn’t look happy to see her.
Neither did Nathan. She supposed he didn’t care for liars infiltrating his family’s ranks. “Is my client under suspicion of committing a crime?” he asked.
“At this time we have no charges pending against him,” DeGrassi hedged.
“Why is he here?”
“His father is a suspect in the murder of Lisette Bruebaker.”
Nathan glanced at James, whose face registered neither relief nor surprise. Even so, the blank expression was telling. It was unusual for a seventeen-year-old boy to wear such an impenetrable mask. With a jerk of his chin, James consented to the interview.
“Did you see your father last night?”
