Speak No Evil_ A Novel - Allison Brennan [38]
Carina took a deep breath. “I’m sorry. I wasn’t aiming that at you, Will. I guess . . . I don’t know. I’m just frustrated.”
He gave her a curt nod and leaned back against her desk, arms crossed. “We thought we had an easy case, open and shut, and it’s turned out to be anything but.”
Carina felt sheepish. Will cared as much about the victims as she did. She had to remember that he was not only her partner but her best friend. “Did Patrick say he had anything from Angie’s computer?” she asked, changing the subject.
“Oh, yeah. We have our work cut out for us. A lot of legwork, but maybe we’ll get a break.”
Will’s phone rang and he reached across Carina’s desk to answer it.
“Will Hooper.”
“It’s Patrick. Are you at your computer?”
“Two feet away.”
“Log on to Angie’s MyJournal page ASAP. Seems Angie’s friends have paid a tribute to their dead friend, and you’re not going to like it. I’m on hold with MyJournal security because Angie’s journal needs to be taken down. Immediately.”
He walked down the street, around the corner, and down two blocks to the Quik-Stop. He bought a newspaper, a thirty-two-ounce Coke, and a breakfast burrito, using the store’s microwave to heat it.
He sat at a picnic table at the park across the street, eating as he turned to the obituaries.
There it was. Angie’s memorial service: Thursday. Six p.m.
He’d learned a lot from his mistakes with Angie. She was the first, and of course it wasn’t perfect. That’s why the end wasn’t satisfying. He’d kept her too long, for one. The excitement of that first night gave way to fear of being caught, an urgency that he couldn’t fulfill.
Last year he’d made a mistake, and it had taken him a full year to plan and gather the courage to go through with his idea.
He should have killed Randi, but he’d been too nervous to go through with it. Fortunately, he’d scared her into silence, and she’d since moved away.
He’d taken Randi to dinner and a movie. She was perfect. Shy, quiet, timid. All he wanted was to fuck her. They’d been dating for several months and it had been time.
They’d eaten dinner at a nice restaurant, seen a movie, did all the things they usually did on a date. Then he took her to a wooded park up in the San Diego hills with a distant view of the ocean and kissed her. She let him, her mouth soft and warm, tentative. They’d kissed before, but he wanted more. Needed more.
At first she gave him what he sought. Her breasts. Her neck. She let him touch her through her pants, but when he unzipped them she grabbed his wrist. “I’m not ready.”
She was out of breath.
“We both want this. You know it.”
“I thought . . . but no. I can’t. Just kiss me. I like that.”
So he kissed her and heated up. Kissed her and wanted more. He pinned her down in the dirt with his body—he was bigger than she—and she protested again. This time, he didn’t stop. He unzipped her shorts and she began to squirm and cry.
“Please, stop! I don’t want to do this.”
“I want to.”
And shouldn’t that have been enough? She was here, she liked him, she kissed him, and she wouldn’t let him fuck her? There was something very wrong with that, and he wasn’t going to let her get away with it.
He held her down, his body rigid, and she screamed. She screamed so loud he thought every person in town could hear. They would come and take him away.
It stunned him into stopping.
Randi was sobbing and he rolled off her. They were both covered in dirt and leaves.
“Don’t tell anyone,” he warned her. “If you tell anyone, I’ll kill you.”
“I won’t,” she whispered. “No one.”
He took her home in silence. They never spoke about that night, never spoke again for that matter. She transferred to another school two weeks later.
After she found her dog dead.
Still, he’d been nervous for months. But his fears gradually began to subside. Randi hadn’t told anyone what happened that night. And besides, what had happened? It was all a misunderstanding.