She was petite, and because she recognized him, she wasn’t scared. She even smiled and waved as she approached her car-he was parked next to her, trunk up, pretending to look for something.

“See you later,” she said.

He grabbed her and pushed her into the trunk, hit her once, twice to shock her, then quickly gagged her. The thrill of taking her in a public parking lot, without drugs, just by being smart and fast, excited him. He tied her hands behind her and slammed the trunk closed.

No one saw anything. Forty-five seconds had passed.

He drove off, heart racing, his prize in the trunk.

She was unconscious when he got home, which helped. No one would be able to hear her, and it was dark enough now that no one could see him carry her inside.

He stripped her naked and tied her to the bed. He removed the gag, then glued it on. She stirred a bit, but didn’t open her eyes.

And then he watched.

“You’re so beautiful, Becca,” he said softly, almost reverently.

Becca and Angie were completely different. Angie had brown hair she’d dyed blond, big tits, and a tattoo. She was coarse and crude, and posted disgusting things online for everyone in the world to see that she was a slut.

Becca was pure, smooth, small breasts and a slender body. Sweet and kind, always smiled at him. He wondered how it would feel, how different than Angie. He would be gentle with Becca because she wasn’t the slut Angie was. He would be kind and considerate. Like he would have been with Randi if she hadn’t said no.

“They always say no.”

The voice of his father echoed in his mind. His dad hadn’t been talking to him. He’d been talking to his mother, but he’d been eavesdropping.

He’d been nine at the time and his father had just come home. He’d been in prison for rape. He hadn’t known what that meant when his father first left, but over the next four years he’d learned exactly what it meant. It was all his mother ever talked about.

“Why don’t you just pay a fucking whore?” his mother had shouted at his dad.

“I don’t pay for it.”

“You just paid four years for it!”

He was in the living room watching television, but he heard everything because his parents hadn’t closed their bedroom door.

“You liked it last time. You love it when I tell you all about it.”

“You’re going to be thrown in jail again.”

His father laughed, a loud bellow, and then there were other sounds. The bed creaking, slaps, moans. His parents were having sex. He listened to the sounds of sex outside the bedroom door.

“Do you want to watch next time?” his father asked.

He hadn’t realized his father had seen him. He stood in the doorway, his jeans unbuttoned.

He shook his head but his father laughed and ruffled his head. “Sure you do, kid. You have to learn somehow.”

And his dad walked out of the house.

His mother came out of the bedroom in a robe and kicked him. “Fucking pervert, just like your father. You’re going to end up in prison, too, mark my words, unless you listen to me. Stay away from women who say they want it. They’re lying, and they’ll whip around and cry rape the minute your back is turned.”

Not his women. His women couldn’t cry rape even if they wanted to.

His women couldn’t talk.

He stared at Becca. He’d already decided to only keep her for twenty-four hours. He’d kept Angie for too long and it had ruined his excitement. The clock was ticking. It was after midnight.

“Wake up.” He tapped her. She moaned but didn’t open her eyes.

He slapped her and her eyes opened. Like a bug pinned to a board, she squirmed, realized she was trapped, and fought harder.

“It’s time, Becca.”

She tried to scream.

SIXTEEN

CARINA AND NICK ARRIVED together at the police station early Thursday morning. They didn’t talk much on the drive over. Carina was sure Nick was uncomfortable about having his brother brought in, even willingly, for questioning in a capital murder case.

Her? She didn’t want to talk for fear of saying something stupid. Something like, “Why were you in my dreams last night?”

As soon as her head had hit the pillow, she’d been out. And dreaming about Nick Thomas, his hard body, his too-sexy-for-words cowboy hat. If Nick was an example of the type of men who lived in Montana, maybe she should put in for a transfer.

She’d woken up rested for the first time all week. She didn’t remember every detail of her dream-probably good, lest she blush when she saw Nick-but in her dream she had kissed him and he had pulled her into his arms. Then the way dreams go, they were both naked in her bed and he was about to make love to her…

She cleared her mind, focused on the task at hand. “Ready?” she asked Nick.

“Yes.”

She’d agreed to let Nick observe the interview, but suggested that he stand in the adjoining room where he could watch and listen unnoticed by his brother. He nodded a curt agreement, his face blank. She didn’t know what he was thinking.

At least Steve had taken Nick’s advice and retained a criminal defense attorney. Both were waiting in the interview room.

In the adjoining room, Dillon and Will joined Carina and Nick. “Are we ready?” Carina asked her brother and her partner. On the phone late last night they had decided that the primary purpose of the meeting was to push Steve Thomas to tell the truth about Friday night as well as his past arguments with Angie. Next, they would ascertain what, if anything, he knew about the deleted comments.

They entered the room, leaving Nick behind, introduced themselves, and set up a recorder.

“Let’s start with how you met Angela Vance,” Carina began.

They’d met last September at the beginning of the school year when he sat next to Angie in computer class.

“We became friends immediately.” Steve sat military straight, hands clasped in front of him.

“When did you become romantically involved?” Carina asked.

“In December.”

“How did it happen?”

Steve tensed. “Why does that matter?”

“Anything, no matter how small, could be relevant.”

Steve glanced down at his hands and Carina couldn’t help but wonder if he was trying to come up with a believable lie. “She asked if I wanted to get together one weekend. I said sure. I thought she meant go out for a date.”

“What did she mean?”

He paused long enough for Carina to prompt him again.

“She wanted to be ‘friends with benefits.’ ”

Carina had heard about such “special” friendships. Friends who had sex but no emotional or permanent attachment. An open relationship. Angie had written about several “friends with benefits” relationships in her journal, including hers with Steve. Carina would be a failure at that sort of arrangement. She loved sex, but it meant little without an emotional commitment. Maybe she was a romantic at heart, but the idea of an eighteen-year-old being so nonchalant about meaningful relationships made Carina sad.

“And what did you want?” she asked Steve.

“I wanted what Angie wanted.”

Carina didn’t believe him. “So you were okay with the relationship.”

“More or less.”

“I don’t think you’re telling us everything.”

“It’s not important.”

“You don’t know that.”

“Yes I do!” he said, his fists clenching. “This isn’t about me, it’s about Angie. I didn’t kill her. I keep saying it and you don’t believe me.”

Dillon interjected. “You and Angie had a sexual relationship that you wanted to be exclusive, but she didn’t.”

“But that makes it look wrong, or like I would want to hurt her because we didn’t want the same thing.”

Dillon continued. “Steve, what we want is the truth. Sometimes the truth shines a light on things that you know nothing about.”

Steve didn’t say anything for a long minute. “Yes, I cared a lot about Angie and I didn’t like having an open relationship. I was monogamous, but Angie wasn’t comfortable with that. She thought we should both be seeing other people.”