Murder of Innocence (Murder Is Forever)

by James Patterson

  “Hey, I love your dress.”

  Tonja turns to see a tall, good-looking man. His brown hair is thick and wavy. His shoulders are broad. But he’s in his thirties, a decade older than the guys she’s usually attracted to.

  Normally Tonja’s first instinct would be to brush him off. Even if he were her own age, she’s here to hang out with her sister, not to let unknown men hit on her. Yet there’s something striking about this one, something undeniably alluring. An instant spark.

  So Tonja says, “Thank you,” and unconsciously tugs the hemline of her tight magenta skirt down toward her knees, bashful under his gaze.

  “You look a little thirsty,” the man says. He flashes Tonja a smile—warm, friendly, instantly disarming. “Here. Do you want a glass of water?”

  CHAPTER 4

  NO, THANKS,” LISA SAYS, butting in. “But we’d love a couple of vodka and cranberries.”

  The man pauses for a moment, then bobs his head. “What do you say we grab a table on the patio?” he asks. “It’s quieter out there. Easier to have a real conversation.”

  “Sounds like a plan,” Lisa answers, and the man heads toward the bar.

  “What are you doing?” Tonja demands. “Do you even know that guy?”

  Lisa shakes her head. “But I saw the way you were looking at him.” Tonja blushes. “I think he’s kinda cute too! Look, let’s just sit down for a minute, give our feet a rest, have a free drink, make a little small talk, then we’ll leave. What do you say?”

  Tonja isn’t thrilled about the idea of leading a guy on like this, but she agrees.

  A few minutes later, Tonja, Lisa, and the man are easing onto a banquette on the rear patio. Flickering tiki torches cast shadows across their faces.

  “Three Grey Gooses and cranberry,” he announces. He hands Tonja and Lisa each a glass filled with ruby-red liquid and keeps one for himself. “Cheers. To new friends. And new adventures.”

  They all clink glasses and take a sip. The sharp tang of alcohol catches Tonja by surprise. “Wow,” she says. “These are pretty strong.”

  “Mike, the bartender—he’s a friend of mine. I asked him to mix them like that.”

  Lisa introduces herself and her little sister, Tonja. “She’s visiting from Arizona,” Lisa tells him.

  “No kidding,” the man says, turning and staring intently into Tonja’s eyes. “I would’ve guessed you came from heaven.”

  Lisa groans. It’s a painfully corny line, and all three of them know it. But Tonja genuinely laughs. Maybe it’s the booze. Maybe it’s his magnetism. Or maybe it’s something else.

  “I’m Andrew, by the way. And I couldn’t be happier to meet you both.”

  From there, the conversation flows easily. Despite his cheesy intro, Andrew is suave and engaging. He drops enticing hints about his life, which sounds quite charmed. He tells the two women that he’s a successful screenwriter and director and that he owns a major production company.

  “Would we have seen any of your movies?” Lisa asks.

  “Probably not. I’ve been focusing on smaller, independent films so far.”

  When Tonja says she’s considering a career in real estate, Andrew shares his experience buying his beachside bungalow and offers some thoughts on the Southern California property market. When she says she’s always wanted to try surfing, Andrew practically leaps out of his seat. He’d love to teach her sometime.

  “Another drink?” he asks Tonja as she’s finishing the last sip of her cocktail.

  It’s Lisa who answers. “Thanks, but it’s getting late. We should probably—”

  “Sure!” Tonja interjects.

  Andrew holds up his hand and gets the attention of a passing waiter, who hurries right over. “Hey, Andrew, good to see you! What can I get you guys?”

  “Brian, these are my new friends, the lovely Tonja and her equally lovely sister, Lisa. We’d like another round, please.”

  Andrew removes a massive wad of folded cash from his pocket and slips a bill into the waiter’s palm. It’s dark on the patio, but Tonja sees it’s a hundred. The waiter nods appreciatively and scurries off.

  “The bartender, the servers—seems like you’re pretty popular around here,” Lisa says.

  If Andrew detects a hint of judgment in her voice, he ignores it. “That’s because I love it here. I work hard, I play hard.” Subtly brushing his fingertips across Tonja’s forearm, he adds, “Is that a crime?”

  The next round of drinks arrives and the conversation continues.

  Tonja can tell that Lisa is unimpressed by Andrew. Rich LA guy, full of himself, likes to party and hit on younger women. Thinks he’s a total bad boy but is about as exciting—and dangerous—as a wet beach towel. Living in Santa Barbara, Lisa has met his type a million times, and that’s what she tells her little sister under her breath while Andrew’s busy chatting to another waiter.

  Tonja shrugs off Lisa’s comment. She’s hanging on Andrew’s every word. She’s flattered by his attention, charmed by his confidence, and more impressed by his money and success than she wants to admit to herself. When she finishes her second drink, she’s the one who suggests a third.

  “Now it’s really getting late,” Lisa says with a sigh. “Tonja, you’re probably wiped out from traveling. It was nice meeting you, Andrew, but we should get going.”

  “Actually, I feel great!” Tonja says brightly. “You can leave if you want. I’ll take a cab back or something.”

  Lisa gives her younger sister a long, hard look. Is this really what she wants? Tonja stares back steadily. She’s an adult, old enough to make her own decisions, live her own life.

  “Okay. Sure,” Lisa finally says. “You two have fun. I’ll see you when you get home, Ton.”

  Alone with Andrew on the banquette, Tonja scoots a little closer to him. “Should we order more drinks?” she asks.

  Andrew grins. Rests a hand on her bare knee.

  “I was thinking … I could make us some. Back at my place. I know a secret recipe for the best margaritas in the world.”

  CHAPTER 5

  ANDREW PULLS HIS FOREST GREEN SUV into his driveway. He cuts the engine, which starts ticking like a metronome as it cools. He walks around the car, opens Tonja’s door, takes her hand, and helps her climb out.

  “Such a gentleman,” she says with a coy smile.

  It’s a chivalrous move, certainly. But it’s also a necessary one. After a long night of drinking, Tonja’s a little unsteady on her feet.

  Andrew guides his guest up the path to his home. Tonja’s arm is slung around his shoulders. Andrew’s is wrapped low around her slender waist. “Welcome to Villa Luster,” he jokes when they reach his front door.

  As he unlocks it and lets them in, Tonja gives the outside of the bungalow a long look. A villa? Not even close. The place looks quaint and inviting, but it’s much more modest than she was expecting based on Andrew’s boasts of wealth and success. Then again, he had seemed like the kind of guy who values things like traveling and experiences over material possessions. Maybe his home simply reflects that. Tonja keeps these thoughts to herself.

  Andrew flips on the lights to reveal a clean, cozy quintessential bachelor pad, confirming Tonja’s theory. In the living room, a well-worn beige sofa faces a massive TV that’s hooked up to three professional-looking VCRs. In the dining room, there are half a dozen colorful wooden surfboards stacked in a corner. In the kitchen, a few empty takeout containers rest on the counter. There isn’t much furniture, and hardly anything is hung on the walls. Andrew might be in his thirties, but his home looks like a college dorm room.

  “Sit, sit, please,” Andrew says, gesturing theatrically toward his couch. “I’ll make us some delectable frozen libations.”

  Tonja giggles and flops onto the sofa. Andrew walks into the adjoining kitchen and starts dumping ice cubes from a plastic tray into an old blender.

  “Do you want to call your sister, tell her where you are? Phone’s over there.”

>   Tonja waves her hand as if swatting an invisible fly. “What for? She’s probably fast asleep by now anyway.”

  Andrew uncaps a bottle of Jose Cuervo Especial Silver tequila and pours a few good glugs into the blender. Then a few more. “You two seem pretty close. But also pretty different.”

  “You’ve got that right,” Tonja says, looking around the place. “Lisa’s always been the ‘good’ daughter. Studious, hardworking, dependable. Finished college. Steady job. Long-term boyfriends. All that stuff. She’s a total straight-edge too.”

  “What do you mean?”

  Tonja glances back at Andrew in the kitchen. He’s pouring something blue that resembles antifreeze into the blender. “Is that Kool-Aid?”

  “Hey, no peeking! This is my secret recipe!”

  Tonja laughs and covers her eyes. She starts to apologize, but her words are drowned out by the deafening roar of the blender; it’s so loud, it practically shakes the bungalow walls. Moments later, Andrew joins her on the couch with two tall glasses filled with a frosty, aquamarine slush.

  “Blue curaçao,” he announces. “That’s the secret ingredient. Promise you won’t tell a soul?”

  “Cross my heart.” Tonja takes a sip of her drink, then smacks her lips in delight. “So good!” she blurts out. “I thought it would taste like blueberry, but it’s orange.”

  Andrew gives her a sly smile. “With me, things aren’t always what they seem.” Then he says, “You never answered my question before. You called your sister a ‘total straight-edge.’ What did you mean by that?”

  “I just meant she’s not a big partier. She’ll have a few drinks now and then, like tonight, but that’s it.”

  “What about you?”

  Tonja thinks for a moment before answering. “The way I look at it, life is short. I want to live as much as I can. Have as much fun as I can. Try as many things as I can.”

  Now it’s Andrew who pauses before asking, slowly, “What about … GHB?”

  Tonja squints in confusion. “I don’t think I know what that is.”

  “You never heard of liquid X? Just a couple of drops, and you’ll feel like you’re floating on a cloud. It’s tasteless, odorless, and totally harmless. Want to try some?”

  Tonja feels a shiver of excitement run down her spine. Of course she knows it’s risky to try a new drug, especially with a guy she barely knows. But that’s part of what makes the idea so tempting. “Okay,” she says with a mischievous smile. “But just a little.”

  “You’re gonna love it!” Andrew claps his hands in excitement, then pulls a tiny glass vial from the inner pocket of his jeans. Inside is a clear liquid.

  He unscrews the cap and holds the vial over Tonja’s blue drink.

  “I lied,” Andrew says. “My margarita recipe? This is the secret ingredient.”

  CHAPTER 6

  TONJA FLUTTERS OPEN HER eyes, but she can’t see much of anything.

  She’s blinded by a warm ray of sunlight streaming in through an open window. Outside, she hears the soothing lap of waves against the sand and the cawing of a distant flock of seagulls.

  Tonja rolls over. Rubs her aching temples. Looks around.

  She’s in an empty, unfamiliar bedroom, lying on top of the covers in an empty, unfamiliar bed.

  Her head feels heavy, her mind hazy; it’s like having a bad hangover mixed with a sinus infection. Slowly she starts to get her bearings and piece together where she is.

  This must be Andrew’s room, she thinks. But he’s nowhere to be seen.

  And she has no memory of how she got here.

  Worse, Tonja realizes that after Andrew gave her that GHB-laced margarita last night, she has no memory of what happened at all.

  With dread, she glances down—and is pleasantly surprised to see that she’s fully clothed. The magenta-and-white floral-print dress she borrowed from Lisa is rumpled, but just barely. Her bra, nylons, and underwear are all still in place as well. Even the strappy sandals she wore last night are still on her feet.

  Tonja exhales, deeply relieved. She was very much attracted to Andrew and was having a great time getting to know him. But she definitely wasn’t ready to sleep with him yet. Certainly not under the influence of a strange new drug.

  Now Tonja likes him even more. As she knows from stories she’s heard, plenty of guys in his position might have pushed her to do things she wasn’t comfortable with. Others might have taken advantage of her in her altered state.

  But not Andrew.

  Tonja is starting to think that maybe, just maybe, after years of dating creeps and jerks, she’s finally found a real gentleman.

  The bedroom door opens. “Great, you’re awake!” Andrew bounds into the room. He’s carrying a steaming mug of coffee and a plate with a mound of scrambled eggs and two pieces of whole-wheat toast. He looks like he’s just returned from surfing; his hair is messy and damp, and he smells faintly of the ocean.

  “What a night, huh?” he chirps. “How are you feeling?”

  Tonja adjusts herself so she’s sitting up in bed. “Okay, I guess,” she answers, her voice scratchy and hoarse. “Tired. A little groggy.”

  “Totally. I felt the same way the first couple of times I did liquid X. You’ll get used to it. Here.” He thrusts the mug and plate at her. “A cup of joe and a hearty breakfast. This should have you feeling like new in no time.”

  Tonja thanks him for the coffee and food but then says, tentatively, “Andrew, after we took that GHB last night, I don’t remember a thing. What happened? How did I end up in your bed?”

  Andrew chuckles and drapes a friendly arm across Tonja’s shoulders. “Of course you don’t remember a thing—you passed out about thirty seconds after your first sip! So I carried you into the bedroom and laid you down on the bed.”

  Tonja looks over at the unwrinkled patch of gray duvet cover beside her. “Did you sleep here too?”

  “Of course not. I slept on the couch.”

  Tonja feels her cheeks grow a few shades rosier as she asks softly, “So I guess that means, you know … nothing happened between us?”

  Andrew makes a face as if that were the silliest question in the world. “You think I would—no way!” He lowers himself onto the bed beside Tonja. “Look … I know you’re in California for only a few more days. But I had a great time last night. I’d really love to see you again.”

  Tonja feels her stomach fill with butterflies. Andrew’s words bring her so much joy, she can barely contain it. “Me too. You must be really busy running your production company—”

  Andrew cuts her off and asks with a giant smile, “Are you free tonight?”

  CHAPTER 7

  TOWER, CESSNA THREE-THREE-SIX Victor Bravo at runway one-zero. Ready for takeoff, over.”

  “Roger, Cessna three-three-six, you are clear to fly.”

  Tonja is giddy with excitement as she hears the voices crackle in her headset.

  Andrew is sitting beside her. He’s also wearing a headset—and holding his bulky video camera on his shoulder. With his free arm, he pulls Tonja’s trembling body close and gives her a comforting squeeze.

  The two are already pressed tightly together in the second row of this tiny prop plane. Up front sits Garrett, their pilot for the afternoon.

  Tonja lets out a little gasp as Garrett engages the throttle and the plane rockets forward. It starts to pick up even more speed, rumbling and shuddering down the runway. At last, Garrett eases back on the yoke and … liftoff.

  Tonja stares out the window in silent awe as the plane climbs higher and higher into the blue sky. Below, the hilly green and brown landscape of greater Santa Barbara rapidly falls away.

  Tonja has been on plenty of commercial flights before, but she’s never experienced the thrill of anything quite like this.

  “Pretty quiet back there,” Garrett says from the cockpit. “You two all right?”

  Tonja’s eyes are still glued to the scene out the window. Andrew’s, through his camera’s viewfin
der, are on Tonja.

  “Doing great,” Andrew answers. “Just admiring … the beauty.”

  Tonja turns and blushes at Andrew’s comment. She plants an affectionate kiss on his lips—one of many they’ve shared over the whirlwind of the past few days.

  Since the night they met, the two have hardly left each other’s sides. Andrew has taken Tonja on a string of romantic dates, each more lavish than the last. He’s treated her to fancy dinners, gifted her a shopping spree at a high-end clothing boutique in nearby Montecito, whisked her to a wine-tasting in the foothills of Santa Ynez, and, of course, given her a surfing lesson in the waves behind his home. He’s even introduced her to some of his friends, like his neighbor Jon.

  But a private ride in a prop plane?

  Tonja thought Andrew was joking when he told her his idea. She couldn’t believe it; it seemed too extreme, too extravagant, even for a man as wealthy as him.

  A man she’s known for less than a week.

  Tonja has dated guys who tried to sweep her off her feet. But none of them were this successful. And none of them did it, well, literally.

  The flight lasts for an entire magical hour, and Andrew films every minute of it as Garrett takes them zigzagging through the clouds above Santa Barbara County, then into the neighboring county of Ventura.

  “I think that’s my house!” Andrew jokes, pointing down at the scenic shoreline.

  Tonja laughs and gives him a playful tap. Viewed from this height, the homes are totally indistinguishable, just orange-roofed little boxes nestled between the lush hills and the endless expanse of deep blue ocean.

  After looping back over the water and passing above the rocky Channel Islands just off the coast, Garrett brings them in for a smooth landing at Santa Barbara Airport.

  Tonja can’t help but marvel at her incredible good fortune. When she landed at this same airport just days ago, she’d expected a relaxing visit with her older sister. Now here she is in a private plane with a charming, rich, wonderful man. It’s all beyond her wildest dreams.