The Sweet Life #2: Lies and Omissions by Francine Pascal (top 10 books to read .TXT) 📗

say just the right thing, and it would be over. And with this whole scandal gone, maybe she and Bruce could pick up their life again.

But what about the young, frightened girl in front of her? Could Elizabeth—in good conscience—tell her just to give in and call it quits? And what if what she was saying was true? The damage to her life would be devastating. Where was the justice in that?

Not to mention, if what she said was true, Bruce could do it again. Could Elizabeth live with herself if she told Robin to run and some other girl wound up his next victim?

Elizabeth mentally shook herself. She couldn’t believe her mind had even gone there. Bruce wasn’t a serial rapist. He wasn’t a criminal.

Elizabeth had the power to make this all go away for him. She could do it with one word.

Robin clutched at Elizabeth’s hand. “Laura,” she pleaded. “I trust you completely. Should I stay and fight this or should I just drop the charges? What should I do?”

Chapter Fifteen

Bruce Patman looked at the photos and papers Gavin MacKay had brought to Nevin’s Pub and shook his head, trying to make sense of it all. Gavin, the big, burly ex-L.A. cop turned private detective, had found his accuser’s identity.

“Robin Platt? I don’t even know her,” Bruce said as he scratched his head. He caught the bartender’s attention and signaled for another round of scotch. He’d lost track of how much he’d drunk so far. Three? Four? He didn’t know anymore. He’d gone to the bar early and Gavin had been a little late. He’d drunk from pure nerves, but now he’d ordered another because he wanted to dull the harsh reality of his situation. Now that he had his accuser’s name, it made everything all the more real to him.

“She didn’t work for the foundation very long,” Gavin said. “But she was there. Take a look at this photo. Remember her?”

Gavin held up a color picture. In it, Bruce saw a pretty, petite, blond girl standing with a man unloading moving boxes from a rental truck.

“That’s the girl from the bar,” Bruce said. “But I swear, I never saw her in my office.”

“Records show she was there for at least two weeks in July.”

Bruce tried to think back to last summer. Had he been out of the office a lot that month on business? It was possible. Otherwise, when he was around, he always made an effort to meet the interns. He just thought it was a nice thing to do. He had gone around and introduced himself in August, he remembered that much. But by then, she would have been gone.

“Robin had been living in Sherman Oaks,” Gavin continued. “But I talked to her neighbor, who said she just moved to a house in Sweet Valley. The neighbor didn’t know the address, but I found it. That’s where I took this picture.”

Gavin tapped the photo to show Bruce. In the background, he could just make out the address on the mailbox.

“Did you find anything about why she would do this to me?”

Gavin shrugged. “Still digging. Don’t worry, we’ll find something.”

“I have to believe that. And thanks for finding this girl so quickly. I know it wasn’t easy.”

“It wasn’t—the police made sure she was well hidden—but being a private eye for twenty-five years gives you some advantage. And then a few well-placed bucks doubles it.”

“I can only assume the police were protecting her from me. No wonder Elizabeth couldn’t find her.” Still, he couldn’t help thinking she’d been working this case for more than a week. How could she have missed finding the girl no matter how they hid her? She was a good reporter. Scratch that—great reporter.

Something wasn’t right. He’d been feeling it since this whole thing started. First Elizabeth was with him one hundred percent, but then she seemed uncertain. Okay, he understood. Even if it wasn’t true, it was horrendous to have the guy you’ve been living with for three years accused of attempted rape. But he couldn’t understand how it was possible after all these years of friendship and of loving each other, of planning to spend their lives together, that she could have any doubts about him.

She did love him, didn’t she?

God, he didn’t know what he believed anymore.

Gavin stood to go. “I’ll find out whose name is on that lease tomorrow.”

Bruce waved a hand to show he had Gavin’s drink covered. The private eye flipped on a dark baseball cap and then hesitated by the bar stool, eyeing the fresh scotch on the rocks the bartender slid in front of Bruce.

“Do you want me to call you a cab? Make sure you get home okay?”

Bruce waved away the offer. “No. I’m going to stay here awhile.” He downed half of his drink in one big slug. He motioned for the bartender to bring him another.

Gavin felt a little uncomfortable about leaving him in this condition, but he was Bruce Patman, not a guy you could tell what to do.

“See ya,” he said, deciding to leave him.

“Thanks, Gavin,” Bruce said.

Bruce didn’t know how long he’d stayed at the bar downing scotch, but it was long enough to push Elizabeth into the background and give full concentration to Robin Platt as he stared at the picture Gavin had given him. Who the hell was she anyway? And why was she doing this to him?

He had to find out, and there was only one way. His anger cut through the foggy blur of alcohol, and he began to think about what Jessica had said about Robin being an opportunist—someone just out for fame and money. He looked at the picture again and saw the address on the house showed up clearly. After a couple of clumsy minutes, he managed to pull up the GPS on his phone. Her house was less than five minutes away.

He stared at the picture and at the map, and the