Sam asked, “What do you mean, Rebecca?”

More wine. “How do you think he got me hooked?” Another sip of wine. “I never told you that I hadn’t slept with anybody for three years before I met him.”

“You?”

“Funny, huh? Sexy me. The femme fatale of the Central Coast? The truth was a lot different. What did Daniel Pell do for me? He made me feel good about my body. He taught me that sex was good. It wasn’t dirty.” She set down the wineglass. “It wasn’t something that happened when my father got home from work.”

“Oh,” Sam whispered.

Linda said nothing.

Downing the last of the wine. “Two or three times a week. Middle and high school…You want to hear what my graduation present was?”

“Rebecca…I’m so sorry,” Sam said. “You never said anything.”

“You mentioned that day in the van, when we met?” Speaking to Linda, whose face was unmoved. “Yeah, we were there for three hours. You thought we were fucking. But all we did was talk. He was comforting me because I was so freaked out. Just like so many other times—being with a man who wanted me, and me wanting him, only I couldn’t go there. I couldn’t let him touch me. A sexy package—with no passion inside. But Daniel? He knew exactly what to say to make me feel comfortable.

“And now look at me—I’m thirty-three and I’ve dated four different men this year and, you know, I can’t remember the name of the second one. Oh, and guess what—every one of them was at least fifteen years older than me…. No, I’m not any better than you guys. And everything I said to you, I mean it twice for myself.

“But come on, Linda, look at him for who he is and what he did to us. Daniel Pell’s the worst thing you can possibly imagine. Yes, it was all that bad…Sorry, I’m drunk and this’s brought up more crap than I was prepared to deal with.”

Linda said nothing. Sam could see the conflict in her face. After a moment she said, “I’m sorry for your misfortune. I’ll pray for you. Now please excuse me, I’m going to bed.”

Clutching her Bible, she went off to the bedroom.

“That didn’t go over very well,” Rebecca said. “Sorry, Mouse.” She leaned back, eyes closed, sighing. “Funny about trying to escape the past. It’s like a dog on a tether. No matter how much he runs, he just can’t get away.”

Chapter 38

Dance and Kellogg were in her office at CBI headquarters, where they’d briefed Overby, working late for a change, on the events at Reynolds’s house—and learned from TJ and Carraneo that there were no new developments. The hour was just after 11:00 P.M.