Jonathan Kellerman_Petra Connor 02 Read Free Page A

girl?”
    â€œBoy.”
    â€œWhat’s his name?”
    â€œRocky.”
    â€œGot a picture?”
    Bonnie reached for her sequined handbag, then stopped herself. “What do you care? George said if I don’t get home on time he’ll like just leave and Rocky sometimes gets up like in the night, I don’t wanna him to be all like scared.”
    â€œWho’s George?”
    â€œThe father,” said the girl. “Rocky’s a George, too. Jorge, Junior. I call him Rocky to make him different from George ’cause I don’t like how George acts.”
    â€œHow does George act?”
    â€œHe doesn’t give me nothing.”
    Sandra Leon’s blouse was skin-hugging champagne satin, off one shoulder. Smooth, bare shoulder stippled by goose bumps. She’d stopped tapping her foot, switched to hugging herself tightly, bunching soft, unfettered breasts to the center of her narrow chest. Dark skin clashed with a huge mass of platinum blond hair. Deep red lipstick, an appliqué mole above her lip. She wore cheap, fake-o gold jewelry, lots of it. Her shoes were rhinestone mules. Parody of sexy; sixteen going on thirty.
    Before Petra could ask, she said, “I don’t know nothing.”
    Allowing her eyes to drift to the victims. To pink sneakers.
    Petra said, “Wonder where she got those shoes.”
    Sandra Leon looked everywhere but at Petra. “Why would I know?” Biting her lip.
    â€œYou okay?” said Petra.
    The girl forced herself to meet Petra’s gaze. Her eyes were dull. “Why wouldn’t I be?”
    Petra didn’t answer.
    â€œCan I go now?”
    â€œYou’re sure there’s nothing you want to tell me?”
    The dull eyes narrowed. Sudden hostility; it seemed misplaced. “I don’t even have to talk to you.”
    â€œSays who?”
    â€œThe law.”
    â€œYou have experience with the law?” said Petra.
    â€œNope.”
    â€œBut you know the law.”
    â€œMy brother’s in jail.”
    â€œWhere?”
    â€œLompoc.”
    â€œFor what?”
    â€œStealing a car.”
    â€œYour brother’s your legal expert?” said Petra. “Look where he is.”
    Sandra shrugged. The platinum hair shifted.
    A wig.
    That made Petra take a closer look at her. Notice something else about the girl’s eyes. Dull because they were yellow around the edges.
    â€œYou okay?”
    â€œI will be when you let me go.” Sandra Leon righted her hairpiece. Slipped a finger under the front and smiled. “Leukemia,” said the girl. “They gave me chemo at Western Peds. I used to have real nice hair. They say it’ll grow back but maybe they’re lying.”
    Tears filled her eyes. “Can I go now?”
    â€œSure.”
    The girl walked away.

CHAPTER
    3
    O ver the next week, five detectives worked the Paradiso shootings, interviewing family members of the dead teens, recontacting potential witnesses. None of the victims had gang affiliations, all were praised as good kids. No relatives had criminal histories; no one had anything of value to say.
    The girl in the pink sneakers remained unidentified, a personal failure for Petra. She’d volunteered to do the trace, worked at it, came up empty. One interesting fact from the coroner: The girl had undergone an abortion within the last few months.
    Petra asked Mac Dilbeck if she could go to the media and he said sure. Three stations ran sketchy renderings of the girl’s face on the evening news. A few calls came in, nothing serious.
    She worked the shoes, figuring maybe an item like that was unusual. Anything but: Kmart special, made in Macao, shipped to the States in huge lots for over a year, she even found them for resale on eBay.
    She tried to recontact Sandra Leon because Sandra had given off an uneasy vibe, though maybe it was just tension about being sick. Resolving to go gently with the poor kid, Lord knew what