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“I don’t care.” He said the words dully, without emotion, but I saw the darkening of green, the way his hand tightened on the thigh of his jeans. Something was going on.
“You look like you care.”
“It’d be nice for you to meet my family. For us to be normal.”
When the anger came it burned, hot and red through my chest, a hundred emotions pushing out in veins that were too ski
“Is that too much to ask?”
I pushed against the table’s edge and let myself fall.
CHAPTER 8
Present
I’M EXAMINING MY face in the bathroom mirror. Today started out late, a killer headache keeping me in bed until almost noon, two Vicodin barely taking the sting off. When I finally crawled out of bed, I showered, then pulled on a baby-blue camisole and matching thong, blow-drying my hair on the floor by my bed, checking e-mails as the hot air did its thing. When I flipped on the bright lights and climbed onto the cam bed, hooking my laptop in and stretching out on the comforter, my face was off camera, my waist and hips on full display, my fingers busy as they logged into different sites and sent my live feed into every corner of cyberspace. When I propped up on one elbow, pa
I need to go out, buy makeup. I can’t cam like this, not without enticing a thousand fans to storm to their feet in chivalrous support. One will probably call the cops, report the jealous boyfriend that they will assume is responsible. I don’t normally wear makeup, nothing more than mascara and gloss, which gives me the i
“Dea
“Yes.” I curl my toes inside my socks and dig my nails into the door frame. Wonder idly if her eyeliner is waterproof. If I strangle her, will her eyes water? Will the liner run? I need more of her voice in order to properly imagine it gasping for help.
“I’m Detective Boles; this is Detective Reuber. We are with the Tulsa Police Department. May we come in?”
Detectives. Police. Words I’ve waited years to hear yet today is the moment. How odd. I blink to buy time, and it is too short. May we come in? “I’d rather you not.” No, you may not come in. I will not let you set foot into this place. I lost my virginity here. Touched for the first time here. Seduced here. Contained crazy here. Killed here.
“We just have a few questions. They’d be easier to handle inside.” Oh, so TheOtherOne can speak. I flick my eyes to him. Notice the calm chew of his jaw as he works a piece of gum. The steady stare of his gaze as he meets mine. The lift of his chin that speaks of more authority than his cheap suit.
“No.” I lift my own damn chin.
The woman glances down the empty hall. “Ms. Madden, these questions are of a personal nature.”
“I don’t really let people in.”
“We can take this down to the station if you’d prefer that.”
I hesitate for a long moment, my eyes darting from the woman to the man. The woman to the man. They have guns, both of them, the precious weapons hanging casually from their belts. Bulletproof vests also, the bulk of it most obvious on the woman. Then, against my better judgment, I open the door and step back. “Come on in.”
CHAPTER 9
Present
SHE HAS SOCIALanxiety. That’s what they’d been told. Detective Brenda Boles looks into Dea
The girl stands, one hand on the knob, the other on the frame, and stares at them, her eyes darting from her, to David, to her. Her back hunches a little forward, her hands are braced on the door as if to hold herself back. Her eyes show no sign of fear, or stress. Instead they are wary. Confident. Smart.
Brenda has locked eyes with a thousand suspects before. And she can tell you, in that moment, right there in the hall, without a word between them, without a question asked, that this girl is guilty.