Page 57 of Long Way Down

“Shopping and all that,” he said with an offhand wave. “Only listens to pop music. She wore this sweater the other day that said, ‘This is my Hallmark Christmas Movie Sweater’ on it,” he said, lip curling in disgust.

“Not exactly your speed, huh?” Contreras said.

“Nah.”

~*~

Daniel Loraine wiped both hands down the legs of his jeans when he joined them in the seating area, gaze darting and tongue dampening his lips with a nervous flicker. His smile trembled and nerves turned his voice wavery. “Is this about Lana and Lynn?” he asked, straight away.

Contreras, still in the act of sitting down, said, “Yeah, it is.”

“Attacks like these,” Melissa said, “are personal in nature: the attacker knows his victims; it’s not random street violence or a crime of opportunity.”

“This class is the girls’ only connection,” Contreras said.

Daniel nodded and blew out a hard breath. “Yeah. Makes sense.” A tight smile. “Guess you have to ask us all where we were and what we were doing, huh?”

“Something like that.”

He nodded. His hands fidgeted and then stilled. “Okay, so, there’s something I should probably tell you up front. Just to get it out of the way.”

His uneasiness was getting to Melissa, his twitching like a prickle of awareness at the back of her neck.Not right. Something’s not right.

If Contreras felt it, too, he didn’t show it. “Okay. Shoot.”

“I…” Another large breath and slow exhale. A self-soothing technique, she thought. “I went out with Lynn, once.”

Contreras cocked a brow. “Is this your way of warning us we’re gonna find your DNA on her?”

“What?” The color drained out of his face. “What, no, I –no. It was weeks ago, and we didn’t even kiss, so there’d be…no. No DNA. I wanted to–”

“Cover your bases?” Melissa asked.

“No, I–”

“Take a breath, kid,” Contreras said. “We have to ask questions, that’s part of our job.”

Daniel nodded, did his breathing routine, and slowly calmed, though his hands continued to clench and unclench on top of his thighs.

“Walk us through it. Who asked who out?”

“I asked her. My parents were having this benefit.” He rolled his eyes and relaxed a little more. “Mom kept bugging me about bringing a date – wanted me to look ‘successful.’ They don’tgetart, either of them. They’ll drop cash on a big canvas to go in the dining room, but not know a thing about the artist who painted it or what they were trying to accomplish.”

“But they must have some appreciation to send you to art school.”

His hand flexed in a quick, dismissive gesture. “Oh, I’m nothing but a disappointment to them. My brother’s a doctor, my sister’s on Wall Street and gonna take over the firm from Dad one day. Each of us had a college fund started for us the day we were born, and I’m, in their words, ‘wasting mine.’” He spoke in a matter-of-fact way, without heat or emotion, like this was a story he’d told many times before.

Melissa frowned. “Sounds like you have some resentment there.”

He gave a little shrug with his brows. “No, I’m used to it.”

Yeah right.

“So your parents were throwing a benefit,” Contreras said. “Why go?”

“It’s…a thing. I don’t know. They’ve had one every year since I was born, and we always go. They want their whole family there – even the ones they’re ashamed of.” He pointed at himself, as if that was necessary. “Mark’s engaged and Diana’s getting serious with her boyfriend, and Mom wanted me to have someone there – for symmetry, she said. Can you believe that?”

Melissa ignored that. “You invited Lynn?”