Page 109 of Long Way Down

Lynn stiffened immediately, a fine line of tension drawn through each limb.

“You sounded pretty sure earlier that it must be one of the boys in your class.”

“Boy,” she spat. “Like he’s innocent or something.”

“Male classmates, then. Are any of them aggressive? Ever threatened you? Daniel said that you two dated.”

Her eyes flashed with sudden anger. “We didn’tdate. We went ononedate. To that charity thing with his parents.”

“And you realized you guys weren’t a good match?” Contreras asked.

“Realized? I knew from the start.”

“Then why go out with him?” Melissa asked.

A dark look pulled her bruises into deeper shadow, a hard sort of anger that radiated out into the room, startling in its fierceness. “Because apparently I’llenjoy dating moreif Idate within my own socioeconomic bracket.” She did a wicked impersonation of her mother, down to the flutter in her voice, which must not have purely been the result of Lynn’s attack.

“Ah,” Melissa said.

“I went with him to shut up my mother,” she said. “I already knew I didn’t like him, but he was anassholethat night. God. I know my parents are rich, and I’ve had lots of advantages, and probably I’m an awful brat who other people hate, but he’sinsufferable. I wanted to hit him so bad.” She flexed her hand, as if she still wanted to.

“At the event,” Contreras said, “did he try to get you off alone? Pressure you to do something you didn’t want to?”

“Oh no.” She shook her head, emphatic. “I mean, if you told me he and a bunch of his friends date-raped a girl at a frat party, I’d totally believe you. He would go along with something like that.” She scowled. “But he’s too much of a pussy to do anything on his own. And he wasn’t interested in me, anyway. He had me there for his parents, just like I was there for mine. We haven’t spoken since.”

She seemed sure enough, pissed enough, and disgusted enough that Melissa believed her completely. It didn’t make Daniel innocent, but in her mind, she flicked his photo to the edges of the suspect web.

“What about Doug and Tobias?” Contreras asked. “Either of them ever do anything inappropriate?”

“Doug’s a total stoner,” she said, dismissively. “He’s high one-hundred percent of the time. It’s hard to imagine him making his bed in the morning, let alone raping somebody.”

Contreras tipped his head.Fair point.

“Tobias…” Here she faltered. Bit at her lip and drew her arms in tighter around her middle. Her sleeve pushed up when it rubbed her pants leg and revealed another ugly bruise wrapped around her wrist. “He’s nice. Heseemsnice,” she amended, and reached to tuck a lock of hair behind her ear.

Was there a word less specific thannice? Paired with the sudden shift in her body language, her hesitancy, Melissa could read in Lynn the very thing she could read in herself when it came to Tobias: attraction. Her own had cooled, some, its intensity eased by last night’s hours spent with Pongo, but she knew all too well the strange discomfort of it.

“You don’t sound too sure about that,” Contreras said.

“No, I am. He is. Nice, I mean.” She chewed at her lip some more, uncertain, now. “But” – she tipped a look of appeal up to them – “isn’t that the thing, though? That whoever it is, he won’tseemlike a creepy rapist? And if it wasn’t Daniel, and it wasn’t Doug” – she swallowed hard, and sucked her next breath in through parted lips – “then that leaves Tobias, right?”

“We still need to follow up with your friends, other professors, check for video at the places you mentioned,” Melissa said, tapping her list.

But Lynn shook her head. “It doesn’t matter. I don’t know who it is.” The sun must have peeked from behind a cloud, because the light brightened, suddenly, glinting off a fresh sheen of moisture in her eyes, framed by bruises. “How could I ever go back into that classwithoutknowing?”

“We’re going to find him,” Melissa said…but doubt licked at the back of her mind.

~*~

Pongo got a few hours sleep, showered, dressed in fresh clothes, with his cut this time – he’d felt naked without it lately – and took his bike around to make his usual pick-up from Four Shoes Jimmy on Theater Row.

Jimmy was sitting on the stoop of a theater back exit that wouldn’t unlock until after dark, nibbling on the edge of a Snickers bar with the blankest look on his face. Pongo pulled up to the curb, killed the engine, but didn’t bother getting off his bike. If one of them got busted, it damn sure wasn’t going to be him. Sorry, Jimmy.

“Hey, man,” he called, and Jimmy looked up slowly, and blinked with the coordination of a bargain bin doll. Pongo pulled out a new pack of Camels and waved them in offer. “Want a smoke?”

It was a signal they’d worked out a while ago, after a truly painful conversation, but it worked like a charm. Jimmy perked up, held his Snickers in his mouth, and got unsteadily to his feet. He ambled over digging in both coat pockets, shoes swaying from the strings around his neck, and let out a muffledah-hawhen he found what he was looking for. He held out a pack of Marlboros, squashed and scuffed, and grinned around the candy bar clenched between his teeth.

“Good job, bud,” Pongo said, urging him forward.