Not One Clue Read Online Free PDF Page B

of doing shit, then feeling bad about it later.”
    I held my breath. Moms were sneaky. Men could be even sneakier. But men who were cops … they were the true experts. “What do you mean?”
    “He’s been accused of rape. Did you know that?”
    I hoped to hell he didn’t know about Jamel’s mother. If Kaneasha’s family knew the truth about the circumstances, Micky wouldn’t have a chance of obtaining custody. “A woman named Sheila Branigan, I believe.”
    “But you hopped on over to Glendale to save him anyway.”
    “What is it with you and weird verbs today?”
    “Did you ever consider your own life might be in danger?”
    “Did you know that Sheila Branigan also accused three other black men of rape? All of whom had solid alibis?”
    “Maybe you’re not aware that most women don’t cry rape just for the fun of it.”
    “I’m a licensed psychologist, Rivera. I’m well aware of the lasting effects of rape, but Sheila’s accusations were entirely fabricated.”
    “You got something for this Micky guy?”
    I raised my brows at the tangy sound of jealousy in his voice. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not a masochist or anything, but jealousy is not necessarily frowned upon in Chrissyland. “He’s a client, Rivera. We have a professional relationship. You’ve heard of that, haven’t you? It’s a situation where two people treat each other with mutual—”
    “Lavonn says he raped her sister.”
    The air escaped my lungs like helium from an overfilled balloon. “What?”
    “She’s not denying that the kid’s his, but she says he’s a product of rape.”
    I kept my voice calm. “Does she have any proof?”
    “The boy’s eight years old. Unlikely to be proof after this much time.”
    I felt myself relax a little.
    “Unless his shrink would step forward with evidence.”
    “Micky’s made some mistakes,” I admitted. “But he has nothing but good intentions where his son is concerned.”
    “Lompoc is full of men with good intentions.”
    “I guess it’s a good thing he found me, then. To help him nurture those intentions.”
    “Is that your job, McMullen? To save the fallen angels of the world?” Rivera had made his share of mistakes. For better or worse, his father, an ex-senator with more charm than morals, had been able to sweep most of them under the rug.
    “Some are too far gone,” I said.
    “Good to know you’re aware of that.”
    “Micky’s not one of them.”
    “Did he rape Lavonn’s sister?”
    “Did you see Lavonn’s eyes?” I asked.
    “You’re avoiding the issue.”
    “That’s my job. Did you see her?”
    “I heard reports.”
    “Did they say she was stoned?”
    “Tox hasn’t gotten back to us yet.”
    It was my turn to snort. “I’m willing to bet Jackson was just as far gone.”
    “That give your boy the right to shoot him?”
    “My client has the right to defend himself … and his son … even in L.A.”
    “Spoken like a gun-toting Midwesterner.”
    “You don’t have to be an ass, Rivera, just because you’re jealous.”
    There was a momentary pause. Maybe it was even thoughtful. “Is that what I am?”
    “Sounds like it.”
    “And what would you say if I told you I was really talking to Rachel last night after I hung up with you?”
    Anger zipped through me. Immediately hot. “Is that skank circus back in town?”
    There was a moment of silence, then he chuckled, soft and low, sending the sound skimming over my nerve endings like fingers on sensitized skin.
    “Mamá says you should come over for margaritas,” he said, and hung up.

5
In my family, being an overachiever means drinking your weight in the alcoholic beverage of your choice.
— Chrissy McMullen, whose
brothers had actually
achieved that feat on more
than one occasion
    “H ey, girl.” Shirley glanced up as I walked into the reception area of L.A. Counseling, then did a double take and popped to her feet. She was freaky graceful for a woman her size. Shirley Templeton is a big