“I’m not running for class president.” She tried to laugh it off, but he wasn’t finished.
“Too bad Daddy’s money won’t be able to fix this.”
He thought he knew her and her situation. But he had no clue. He was judging her based on facts and impressions that were fourteen years old.
“Your opinion of me is pretty smug, isn’t it?” she asked.
“You’re saying I’m wrong?”
“I’m saying if you believe you’re the only one who’s ever suffered, you need to take a look around.”
“Meaning I should take a look at you? The pretty little rich girl who’s always had everything?”
“Rich girl? Obviously, you haven’t bothered to keep up. My father’s dead, Rod. He lost his business the year after you left, became an alcoholic and moved to Phoenix. He was basically homeless—until he was struck by a car while crossing the freeway. My mother couldn’t tolerate the loss of status that went along with the bankruptcy, so she’d already divorced him—which is part of the reason he never recovered—and immediately remarried some guy she met online. Her new guy had money, still does. Gary O’Conner bought the feed store and moved to town the same winter. He put a roof over my head and food on the table, but…”
She stopped talking. She’d never told anyone this. Except her mother. And Starkey.
“But…” he prompted.
Somehow it was more important to humble Rod than it was to guard her secret. “He felt I owed him a few liberties for his generosity.”
“What kind of liberties?”
He sounded much less confident. She’d succeeded in surprising him. And although part of her balked at stating what she’d kept to herself for so long—what felt dirty and shameful and better off forgotten—another part was dying to pour it all out and put him in his place.
“Let’s just say I had to make sure I was never alone with him. I was so scared he’d come into my room late at night that I couldn’t sleep. When I started losing weight, ten pounds and then twenty, my mother said I was becoming anorexic in my attempt to compete with the other girls at school.” She laughed, still incredulous that her mother could live in such denial. “I’d tried to tell her what was happening, but she wouldn’t believe me. She’d salvaged her image and found another meal ticket. She wasn’t about to let go of Gary and end up with nothing.”
His expression was inscrutable. “So what’d you do?”
She curled her fingernails into her palms, hoping the physical pain would diminish the crushing sensation in her chest. “What you did. I moved out.”
He propped his head on his arms, but he was far from relaxed. “That’s when you moved in with Starkey?”
“That’s when. But, as it turned out, his place wasn’t such a safe haven.”
“He’s a member of the Hells Angels. Was then, too. You didn’t know that?”
“I knew it. His reputation and his contacts were what protected me from Gary.”
“And once you no longer needed his protection?”
“I didn’t use him, if that’s what you’re implying. At the time I thought I was in love with him, enough to give up a regular law-abiding life. But once I learned the kind of sacrifices that would require, I realized it was impossible for me and struck out on my own. So forgive me if I’m not willing to offer you the pity you think you deserve,” she said and walked out.
Pity? That was the last thing Rod wanted. But he could see how Sophia might’ve misinterpreted his words and actions. He’d been pretty hard on her since he’d come back. Maybe too hard.
Muttering a curse, he sat up. He was usually better at remaining objective, at looking beyond preconceived notions in order to evaluate a situation. But he’d been too prejudiced against Sophia to do that. His body language, maybe even his tone of voice, had conveyed that he didn’t like or respect her. So how could he have expected her to react any more positively than she had?
Given their history, he probably would’ve rejected his help, too.
Remembering her embarrassment as she tried to get him into his boxers, he felt the sudden urge to laugh. She’d busted into his room with her cop tools, feeling she finally had the advantage—and got a little more than she’d bargained for.
Burying his face in his hands, he stopped laughing and sighed. Why had he wasted his time behaving in such a counterproductive manner?
Because he’d been attempting to assuage his pride, which was what he’d accused her of doing, although the damage to her pride had been a lot more recent.
They were stupid to fight each other. That only aided and abetted whoever was behind the murders—and Sophia’s political enemies—which could be one and the same. He didn’t want to side with Leonard, a man who’d used the threat of deportation to force a woman to have sex with him, did he? And if that wasn’t enough, Sophia’s picture on the back of his bedroom door proved conclusively that Leonard was a prick.
He stood. “Hey! Sophia!”
Had she left? Since he hadn’t seen another officer, he figured she was working all night, but maybe she’d gone out.
She hadn’t. Not yet, anyway. She appeared a few seconds later, holding a cup of coffee. “What do you need?”
“Why are you still here?”
“I traded Grant for graveyard this week, just in case there are any more shootings. Why are you still here?”
When he gave her a dirty look, she smiled sweetly. “Oh, I forgot. You interfered with my investigation. Then you refused to turn over the evidence. And now you’re under arrest.”
He studied her for a few seconds. “You did this because I embarrassed you.”
“I did it because you gave me no other choice.”
Leaning a shoulder against the bars, he tried to look as innocent as possible. “Do you really want to keep fighting me instead of your enemies?”
“I thought you were one of my enemies.” She took a sip of coffee. “I don’t have many friends whose life mission is to get me fired.”
“You’d just shocked me with a Taser when I said that.”
Her eyebrows went up. “You’re telling me you didn’t mean it?”
Noting her skepticism, he scratched his arm. “Not entirely.”
“How does that improve our situation?”
“I’m wondering why we can’t be professional allies. You need some help. I’m here to provide it.”