LANA TOOK A step backward. “Dan hit Cindy?”
“I told you your brother was a bully. I suspect he learned that behavior by watching your dad.”
Lana opened her mouth to rebut Chip’s words, but then closed it without speaking. Chip threw up his arms in disgust and turned away from her. Several long minutes went by.
“How do you know?” she asked quietly.
He leaned against the counter. “I saw him backhand her one day after drivers’ ed. I was in the wrong place at the wrong time and couldn’t ignore what I saw.”
Lana sagged against the refrigerator. “Oh my God. Cindy never said anything.”
“She was embarrassed. The blow left a bruise, and she was out of school for a week. She wore a lot of makeup when she came back.”
Lana nodded, remembering Cindy had started wearing heavy foundation and powder around the first time she and Dan had broken up. Lana had thought it was her way of luring a new boyfriend. But Dan had hit her? Oh my God.
“Poor Cindy,” Lana murmured. “So that’s why they broke up?”
“Yeah.”
“Was that the only time he hit her?”
“I don’t know.”
“Then your fight with Dan was over Cindy?”
“Not exactly.” Chip shook his head. “I got Cindy away from Dan and drove her to Kwik Mart for some ice for her cheek. She begged me not to say anything to anyone, told me that she would make up a story for her parents about what had happened to her. I promised to keep quiet, but started worrying about Dan hitting you.”
“Me?”
“Or Sandy. If he hit his girlfriend, what would stop him from hitting his sisters? I always feared your father beat you. So the next day I confronted Dan, told him if he ever harmed you or Sandy, he’d answer to me. He laughed at me, told me to mind my own business, he’d do what he wanted and to stay away from his family.” Chip shrugged. “I grabbed his shirt and it ripped. From there it escalated into blows. Others gathered to watch. We were stupid kids.”
“So you thought you were protecting me?”
Chip nodded.
“Thanks, I guess, but I didn’t need your protection. Dan never touched me.”
“Because I warned him off,” Chip stated, obviously convinced of that fact.
Lana blinked. Was he right?
“So, that was the secret, the secret you kept, the reason you guys became enemies?”
Chip folded his arms and nodded. “This all happened a long time ago, Lana.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“I lived next door to you. I saw how much you adored your older brother, and that’s normal for a little sister. I knew it would hurt you to learn the truth about him.”
She nodded. “But he’s dead now.”
“That secret had nothing to do with Dan’s murder. I didn’t want to tell you something so ugly when it didn’t matter. But now...” He trailed off.
“What?”
“If you join that gym, you need to be careful around Gary. You need to pay attention.”
Lana closed her eyes. Secrets and lies. That was what her life had always been made of. Her mother had hidden the truth about her father’s abuse from the world, as well as the fact that they had been broke after he had left. Lana thought she’d gotten herself out of that life, but her worst nightmare had come true.
She had turned into her mother, a clueless woman who hid from the truth, whose life had been a series of bad decisions and mistakes. How did I not know my brother was like my father?
Lana looked around, not seeing anything, feeling as if her life had tumbled strangely out of control.
“I’ve got to get out of here.” She hurried out of the kitchen, away from Chip. She’d thought he was her friend, but he’d kept secrets from her just like everyone else had.
“Lana,” he called out. “Wait.”
She ignored him.
Without looking back, she grabbed her purse and ran out the front door.
IN THE SUPERMARKET, Lana raced down the aisles, throwing items into her cart, trying not to think about anything but what food they needed. She grabbed a loaf of the whole wheat bread Chip preferred, glared at the packaging and tried to figure out what the hell was wrong with her.
There was so much going on inside her brain, she didn’t know where to start.
Dan had hit Cindy. Chip knew and had never told her.
Why hadn’t Lana seen Dan for what he was? If she’d been paying attention, she would have realized. But just like her mother, she floated along and allowed things to happen.
Damn Chip Peterson for not telling her.
Chip. She tossed the loaf of bread into the cart, not wanting to think about Chip, but she couldn’t lie to herself anymore. She cared about him as more than a friend. God, she loved the feel of his mouth on hers, got totally lost in their kisses. For the first time in her life, she was able to relax and enjoy that kind of intimacy. Her feelings about him had grown into something special.
And she didn’t know what to do with those feelings. Not when he wasn’t honest with her.
And she knew that Chip wanted her. Talk about proof from a lawyer. Her face warmed as she remembered how she hadn’t backed away, how she’d pressed against the hard feel of his erection. She’d encouraged him.
And he’d been the one to pull back. Not her. She’d been possessed by an insane impulse to rip off his clothing and make love with him. They’d be in his bed right now, which would be a whole lot more fun than... She shook her head and dropped another loaf of bread into her cart.
This new way she felt about Chip changed everything, unsettled her. Living with him had shown her a glimpse of another way to live, a life that didn’t revolve around catching Dan’s murderer. And Chip’s revelations altered everything she thought she knew about the past.
She no longer wanted to be that person obsessed with the idea of finding justice for a long-dead boy. Why not forget her promise to her mother, let all the ugliness go?
But if she let go of that single-minded goal, then who was she?
She didn’t know. It was as if the ground beneath her feet had become shaky, and that scared her. So she ran away from Chip and his truths. What did that say about her?
That she was her mother? That she was a coward? She’d never thought of herself as a coward before, but—
“Excuse me, please.”
The voice of an elderly woman jerked Lana back to the grocery, where she stood frozen in the aisle, blocking other shoppers from reaching the bread.
“Sorry,” she murmured and pushed her cart out of the way.
Oh my God. I can’t believe Dan hit Cindy.
Her brother’s image had been seriously tarnished by all the mud thrown over it. As truths were revealed about him, truths had also been uncovered about her. She was no longer certain what she believed in.
Lately she thought more about Chip than she did about anything else. Did that mean she was in love with him? Or just in lust with his body. Or maybe that she was totally screwed up. Like her mother.
How could she help but be furious with Chip for thinking he needed to protect her, for keeping things from her?
How could she be with a man who hadn’t been honest with her?
Was she even more screwed up than she’d been in high school, when apparently she couldn’t fricking see or understand what was in front of her face?
Like Cindy’s bruises. Lana thought about Cindy’s face and all that makeup hiding the damage her brother had inflicted. Had that damage been lasting?
No wonder Cindy had been so weird in Moe’s and Joe’s a few weeks ago. I forced her to recall painful memories.
But why didn’t she reveal the truth about Dan? She couldn’t still be embarrassed after all this time. If Cindy had hidden the fact that Dan had hit her, maybe she’d been hiding other things, too. Maybe Dan had smacked her around so regularly that she’d wanted revenge.
Had Dan’s abuse given her a motive for killing him?
Lana pushed her cart toward the cashier. No, that didn’t ring true for an eighteen-year-old girl, and she had an airtight alibi, one that Lana had confirmed. Cindy had been out of town, five hours away, in St. Petersburg when Dan was murdered.
Just the same, Lana wanted another conversation with Dan’s old girlfriend. If for nothing else than to apologize for her brother. If Dan hit her, Cindy was as much a victim as my mother.
Lana pulled out her phone to check the time. The game would be about over, and Cindy was a regular at Moe’s and Joe’s, where the owners had multiple screens to watch every NFL game. What were the odds she’d be there now, having tossed back a few shots and looking to hook up for the night? She’d likely be a little tipsy.
Certainly worth the short drive to check.
LANA FOUGHT HER way into the noisy crowd at Moe’s and Joe’s. No one paid her any attention. The sound of laughing conversation, along with the smell of spilled beer and liquor, overpowered her senses, made her feel alone in the middle of a packed bar.
She spotted Cindy, wearing skintight black jeans and a red scoop-neck knit shirt, holding court in the center of a group of no-doubt “interesting” men. At least they seemed interested in her. Lana was relieved to see most of the other Sunday football patrons were dressed as casually as she in her shorts, sandals and a cotton blouse.
She edged her way into the group surrounding Cindy and murmured a greeting.
Cindy took a swallow of her drink—one with a salted rim, so likely a margarita—and threw Lana a pointed look that said, Go away. I’m busy.
“Well, well,” one of the men said, possibly sensing the tension flowing off Cindy. “Who is this new lady? Friend of yours, Cindy?”
“What are you doing here, Lana?” Cindy asked, her voice dripping with ice. As if this bar were her exclusive territory.
“Can we go outside?” Lana asked. “I need to talk to you.”
“Uh-oh,” the same man said. “Sounds serious.”
“It is serious,” Lana said. “Please, Cindy.”
“Talk to me about what?” Cindy asked in a voice slurred by alcohol. “Oh, don’t tell me. I know. The great Danny Lettino.”
“And who is Danny Lettino?” another of the men asked.
“And what makes him so great?” a dark-haired dude added. “I think I’m jealous.”
“A dead boy,” Cindy said.
“Did you kill him, Cindy?” someone asked with a laugh.
Cindy shot him a scathing look. “Of course not.”
“Do you know who did?” Lana asked.
Cindy’s gaze snapped to Lana. “Don’t be ridiculous.”
“I don’t think it’s ridiculous,” Lana said. “Answer the question.”
Shaking her head in disgust, Cindy narrowed her eyes. “I don’t have to answer your stupid questions, Lana, so just go away.” She looked at the men and said, “She’s always been a bitch. And her brother was a bastard.”
Lana yanked her police badge out of her purse and shoved it in Cindy’s face. Cindy’s eyes widened, and she stepped back. One of the men leaned forward to examine Lana’s credentials.
“You can answer my questions here,” Lana said, “or you can accompany me to my station and answer them there.” A bluff, of course, but she bet it would work.
“That’s not real,” Cindy said, but her voice held a note of uncertainty.
“Yes, it is,” said the man who’d checked it out. He stepped away.
The other men surrounding Cindy disappeared into the crowd.
“Gee, you have loyal friends,” Lana said. “I hope none of them was your attorney.”
Cindy stared at the badge. “Get out. You’re a cop?”
“Yes. Let’s go outside to my car, where we can talk.”
As she threaded her way outside, Lana wondered if she’d made a huge mistake. Would Gary learn he was living next door to a law-enforcement officer and close up shop?
She’d done exactly what Chip had accused her of doing, acted impulsively. Something a cop should never do. But damn, Cindy had always acted as if she was better than every other student at Southeast High.
But now that Lana knew the truth, she understood Cindy a little better. Maybe her bravado was all a big act.
“Here,” Lana said, beeping open the lock of her three-year-old Ford with a remote. A quick glance told her none of her usual debris clogged the passenger seat. Cindy eyed her vehicle with a smirk, and Lana wondered if she chauffeured her physician clients to lunch and drinks in a Mercedes or a BMW.
Lana slid behind the wheel and turned to face Cindy, who hugged her purse to her chest, looking pissed but not frightened.
“What’s this about, Lana?” Cindy demanded. She passed a hand over her forehead, obviously trying to think.
Lana suspected the amount of tequila she’d consumed made that difficult.
“You can’t believe I had anything to do with Dan’s death,” Cindy continued. “I was out of town that night. If you’re really a cop, you already know that.”
“Maybe you paid someone to kill him.”
“Why would I do that?”
“Because he beat you.”
Cindy closed her eyes. She took a deep breath and exhaled in a whoosh, sending a strong odor of alcohol into the car.
“You know.” Her words were a statement, not a question.
“Yes,” Lana said.
Cindy tightened the hold on her purse. “Chip told you?”
“Yes.”
She opened her eyes. “He promised he never would.”
“Was it just the time Chip witnessed or more than that?” Lana held her breath, waiting for the answer.
Cindy lifted her chin. “The bastard hit me three times. I broke up with him each time, but he could always sweet-talk me into forgiving him.”
Lana nodded. Typical behavior for battered women.
“I was such a fool back then,” Cindy muttered.
“I’m sorry for what my brother did.” Lana placed her hand on Cindy’s arm. “I swear I never knew until about an hour ago.”
Cindy jerked away. “I never wanted anyone to know how stupid I was in high school. Believe me, I’d never put up with a man hitting me now.”
“That’s good.” But Lana wondered about that. “Did you get counseling?”
“In college.” Cindy shook her head. “Dan really screwed me up.”
“Is there anything you want to tell me about his death?” Lana asked. “Do you know something you didn’t tell the police?”
“Why are you doing this now, Lana? It’s been so long.”
Lana looked away. Because my mother asked me to, and I’m repeating her mistakes in life.
“Danny’s murderer was never found,” Lana said. “Whoever he—or she—is is walking around free as a bird.”
“I don’t know who killed him,” Cindy said. “And if I did, I would have told the cops eight years ago.”
Lana nodded. That sounded like the truth. “Can I ask you a few questions?”
“Do I have a choice?”
“When was the last time you spoke to him?”
“The day before his murder. I was leaving for the freshman orientation in St. Pete. He was pissed because I didn’t have time to see him before I left. God, I was relieved to be getting away from him.”
“Was there anything strange about your conversation?”
Cindy lifted her gaze to the windshield again. “Not that I remember. His anger wasn’t anything unusual.”
Lana observed Cindy with a cop’s eyes. Her words were slurred, a sure sign of intoxication, but she was oriented to time and place, knew what she was saying.
“Did Dan mention meeting anyone in the next few days?”
“Yeah, he was meeting with Coach Robby for work on some kind of pass. But that wasn’t unusual, either. Those two were joined at the hip.”
“Did Dan seem worried about anything?”
“No.”
“Did you know about the steroid rumors?”
Cindy snapped her gaze to Lana. “Yes.”
“Was Danny taking steroids?”
“How the hell do I know?”
“Did you guys ever talk about the rumors? Did you ask him?”
“Hell, no. I learned not to ask questions. Your brother was mean, Lana.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Not good enough. I wish I’d never met Dan Lettino,” Cindy said.
“I don’t blame you. Apparently he wasn’t a particularly nice guy.”
“No kidding.” Cindy narrowed her eyes. “Did he ever hit you?”
“Never.”
“What about your little sister?”
“No.” But Sandy was afraid of him.
“Lucky you.”
“Maybe, but his death changed my mother. I need to find his murderer for her sake.”
Cindy laughed. “As far as I’m concerned, whoever killed him did the world a favor.” She opened the door, stuck out one foot, but paused and looked back. “Are we done here?”
“Yes,” Lana said. “Now give me your keys.”
“My keys?” Cindy leveled a disbelieving look at Lana. “No way.”
“You can’t drive,” Lana said. “No question you’re over the legal limit.”
Cindy laughed, a brittle sound. “Are you going to arrest me?”
“If you get behind the wheel of your car.”
Cindy slanted her head. “I don’t believe you’d do it.”
“Try me,” Lana said warningly. “I’ll give you a roadside sobriety test right here. You’ll fail.”
Their gazes locked and held.
“Come on, Cindy,” Lana urged. “I’m doing this for your own safety. You can call a ride service.”
Finally Cindy looked away, cursing viciously. She dug around in her purse and extracted her cell phone.
“Or I can give you a ride home,” Lana offered. “I’ll even bring you back to get your car tomorrow.”
“No, thanks. I’ll call a cab. The company will be better.”
Lana listened while Cindy made the call, confirming she’d truly ordered a ride home. When finished, Cindy exited Lana’s vehicle without comment and stomped over to the meager shade of a palm tree. Lana waited until the taxi drove up. Cindy gave Lana an obscene gesture and then climbed into the back seat.
“Nice,” Lana murmured as the cab drove away.
No question she’d lost a friend. No. What was she thinking? Cindy had never been her friend. Just like Danny hadn’t been the guy she’d thought he was and Chip hadn’t told her the truth.
Lana had been wrong about so much, living in some kind of imaginary world of her own making. She obsessed about finding justice for someone who didn’t deserve it.
What kind of a cop am I?
She wanted to do the right thing, to put criminals behind bars, where they belonged. That was why she’d become a police officer, and she loved her job. Helping people in trouble was the best thing in the world. Nothing made her feel better.
So how had it all gotten so complicated? Maybe she should just forget this whole crazy quest for justice. It was making her life miserable, and no one cared a flying fig about who killed Dan anymore. No one except her and her mother.
The department hadn’t worked this ice-cold case in years.
If I walk away, someone will get away with murder.
Her brother had been a happy little boy until their father had started smacking their mother around. Maybe that had turned Dan into an abusive jerk, but he’d been an immature nineteen-year-old kid whose murder had caused a lot of people pain.
Lana started her car and backed out of the parking space. She needed to take control of her life and make better decisions. Badging Cindy had been stupid. For sure moving in with Chip hadn’t been the most genius move she’d ever made, either. And now she wanted to tumble into bed with him because he was conveniently available and so smoking hot.
Exactly the kind of brainless decision her mother would make.