we got lucky,” Evan said.
“Why?” Tucker glared at Lissa. “Because I’m a psycho?”
“I never said that, Tucker.”
“You might as well have.”
“Don’t make this about me. Okay? Tell me why the police are talking to you about this.”
“Because—” Tucker broke off, and Lissa heard him sigh as if he was reluctant but knew he wouldn’t get away without answering.
Evan glanced at him in the rearview mirror.
Tucker said, “I was with Chantelle the Saturday night before she disappeared, okay? I was the last person to be seen with her alive, according to the cops.”
“Chantelle?” Evan said.
“I thought you were in Austin,” Lissa said at the same time. “I thought you said you hardly knew her.”
“Chantelle is Jessica’s—it was Jessica’s stage name.” Tucker tapped Evan’s shoulder. “Dude, you should have seen the deck on her.”
“Tucker!” Lissa turned around as far as the seat belt would allow. “Please tell me you didn’t lie to me.”
“I didn’t. There was a party, okay? In Galveston. Before I went to Austin, I went down there with this other dude, and that’s where I hooked up with Chantelle. I didn’t want to tell you because you’d just give me shit about her.”
“What other dude?” Lissa asked.
“Hooked up how?” Evan asked.
“Have y’all been home? I bet Pop is beyond pissed.”
“Tucker, come on! This is serious.” Lissa hit the seatback with the heel of her hand. “There’s more to it than the fact you were with her, isn’t there? Isn’t there?” She insisted, because she could feel it. “Tell me,” she demanded.
“Okay, okay. Chantelle was into some kind of bad shit.”
“What do you mean exactly?” Evan looked in the rearview at Tucker again.
Lissa stifled an impulse to cover her ears.
“She did stuff just for kicks, like once she robbed a liquor store to see if she could get away with it.”
“And you were dating her.” Lissa didn’t bother hiding her disgust.
“It wasn’t dating, really. I just missed Miranda so damn much. Chantelle loved her, too. We helped each other.”
Lissa might have scoffed at that, but Evan cut her off, and it was just as well, she thought.
“The stuff she did,” Evan said, “you think there might be somebody who had it in for her, maybe bad enough to kill her?”
“It’s possible. She was hooking—”
“As in prostitution?” Evan asked.
“Prostitution!” Lissa was stunned, but then she wondered why.
“Miranda never went that far. I know how it looks—you probably don’t believe me, but just because you work for an escort service doesn’t mean you’re turning tricks. I tried to tell Jessica she was playing with fire. Looks like she got burned.”
“Oh, Tucker.” Lissa rested her head against the seatback. She had no idea what else to say. They passed several miles in silence.
Tucker broke it. “Bad thing is they got my DNA, got my prints, the works.”
Lissa whipped around, finding his gaze, even in the dark. “You let them? Why? Why didn’t you tell them you wanted a lawyer? God, Tucker! Didn’t you learn anything last time?”
“It would have looked bad if I didn’t cooperate.”
Evan asked, “Are you saying you had sex with Jess—Chantelle, whatever her name is...was? They’ll get a match?”
“They could, I guess, but one of the cops who ID’d her body works security part-time at Mystique. He knows Jessica and I hung around a lot together. You know the guy, Liss. Sonny Cade? I think he was in your class at Hardys Walk High, wasn’t he?”
“I remember him, but he was a couple of years behind me. He was kind of a thug, always in trouble. He’s a policeman now?”
“Yep. He’s still a tough guy, but he’s sharp. Runs his own security firm on the side. He knows a lot about the shit that goes on at the club.”
Lissa and Evan exchanged a glance, and Lissa knew they were sharing the same sinking sensation of dread.
Tucker touched her shoulder and said he was sorry, and when she didn’t respond, he settled back, but she was aware of him, of his distress, all the same. She knew his remorse was as real and true as her frustration. But he never changed; he just kept on making the same mistakes, again and again.
“Come on, Liss, it’s going to be fine. Don’t worry.”
How? she wondered. But she didn’t ask. She doubted he had an answer, or if he did, it would be one he’d invented, to placate her.
“I wish you guys had been with us in Austin.” Tucker bent forward. “You would have loved it. That band I was telling you about? I knew the bass player. Me and the dude I was with—”
“What dude?” Lissa asked again.
“You don’t know him,” Tucker said. “The cool thing was we hooked up with these chicks, and we’re sitting there in the club—we got, like, this whole backstage vibe going on, because of me. Because I knew the drummer and the bass player. The chicks were into it. It was great.”
Lissa caught the flash of Tucker’s teeth in the road light and knew he was grinning.
“What can I say?” he asked, having fun with it. “The women love me.”
“Jesus, Tuck.” Evan shook his head.
“Sorry.”
For several moments there was only the sound of the tires, the hum of the truck’s engine. The cab was washed in a dirty swirl of road light.
Tucker bent forward, touching Lissa’s shoulder. “Look, all B.S. aside, I’m really sick about this. Underneath all that crazy shit, Chantelle was a nice girl. Not in the same class as Miranda, but she could have been if she hadn’t gotten messed up on coke and meth. I was trying to help her.”
“Oh, Tucker, when are you ever going to learn? Women like that don’t want to be helped.”
“Nobody deserves to die the way she did, Liss. To get killed and tossed into the woods like a sack of trash. I wish I’d been with her. I wish we hadn’t gotten so pissed off with each other.”
“What do you mean pissed off?” Evan asked.
“It was nothing, really. We had a—a discussion, you know?”
“A fight, you mean,” Lissa said.
“That’s why I left the party,” Tucker said. “I’m sorry as shit now.” His voice wobbled, and Lissa felt her own tears rise in her throat.
“Was Todd Hite there? Did he know Jessica?” Evan asked. “Could she have been involved with him the way Miranda was?”
Lissa turned to Evan. “Oh, my God,” she murmured. It had been a while since she’d thought of him. Todd Hite had been the other person of interest in Miranda’s murder case besides Tucker—someone else’s brother, son, uncle, source for heartbreak. Lissa had been convinced Todd was guilty. The whole family had thought so. Todd Hite was—or he had been—a stockbroker until a police undercover operation exposed him as the ringleader of a white-collar gang, composed mostly of his clients, who were involved in everything from money laundering and drugs to prostitution. Somehow, because