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a shiny purple.
    “Leanna Vita Cruz!” yelled Christian from his dad's pickup truck. “Get in now.”
    I beamed like always and hopped into the passenger seat. “Ew.” I stared at Christian who was dressed in old clothes. Clothes that looked like a grandma glued patches of fabric on. “What are you wearing?” I asked, thinking if I should ask him about how he got my number—but, I decided not to ask.
    “When you called me I was on my way to go hunting. Well, not hunting but more like shooting bottles.”
    I looked in the back seat of the truck and stared at the six rifle guns. I grabbed one and Christian jumped in fear as he drove off. He tried to yank the loaded rifle from me, but I shoved him away. “I know how to use a gun, honey.”
    He began to breathe heavier. “Okay, I believe you, but you're in a car. If a police sees you with a rifle in the front seat, they might just shoot you dead on the spot. So, put it back.”
    I laughed with sarcasm, “You get frightened easily.” I pointed the gun out the window to the desert. I spotted a Joshua tree surrounded by nothing and aimed the rifle at it.
    Christian stopped the car in shock, as I shot the tree with one hit. His mouth dropped in worry, “That was a perfect aim.”
    “Barbie boy used to take me shooting,” I teased. “Some people are just born to shoot.”
    He laughed and began to drive again. “So, you're telling me that Ken shoots?”
    “He doesn't, but I do.”
    With a confused face, Christian continued to drive. “So, you are pretty, intellectual, and you can shoot. What the hell is wrong with you then? You are perfect.”
    I smiled, “Honey, I cannot draw.”
    “You're still perfect in my eyes.”
    I did not like that word—perfect. Just because he would find a flaw about me and then what would I be—imperfect. However, I liked the rush of his complements. They made my heart race with excitement, and kept a smile on my face. It was like I were high.
    He kept me high.
     
     

Chapter 4
    Blue Jeans
     
    I had my shopping cart full of bread and cereal since I did not know how to cook—breakfast was my specialty. Derek was supposed to be at my home every morning to cook, but he apparently was sent to jail for a DUI and had no one to bail him out.
    It was not his first DUI either. I could not imagine having a father like him. Honestly, I could not imagine having a father at all.
    “...My husband who works for the police department told me that both deaths were from a gun shot and that the killer drank...”
    I pulled my fitted pink Hollister hoodie over my head and hid behind the oranges to get a better listen at the housewives gossip. I despised getting into Riverbed's hot topics, but it was so tempting.
    I kept my eyes on the leader of the five ladies. She had at least four inches of height over them, so she claimed the throne. I could tell they hung around each other a lot because they all wore matching floral dresses that were hemmed right above the knee and perfectly curled dark hair. I called them the gang of Riverbed—Riverbed's gang.
    “...How does he know exactly that it was a gun shot?” said the shortest of the bunch.
    “Because the way the blood splattered around the room. They all had gun shots to the head before being decapitated,” said the leader.
    “So, where are the heads?”
    “Does it look like I would know?” she snapped. “But, this is all gossip.”
    “They were not decapitated! Little Sammy started that rumor last night,” said another member.
    I screeched as I tripped over an orange. The ladies stared at me, then ran off to get some fresh apples. They probably did not recognize me, or they would have stopped to ask if I knew anything else about Mrs. Carol's death.
    I tugged on my tiny jean shorts and picked up the oranges I dropped. I turned my head quickly as I felt like someone was staring at me.
    “Leanna?” Tyler narrowed his eyes as he walked toward me. He was dressed in a suit, with leopard print