Lies I Told(73)

Cormac started the truck and headed back down the driveway. The sky was turning a paler shade of indigo, the sea becoming visible again as the sun climbed out of sight in the east. I checked my phone. Six thirty in the morning.

Something thudded under the truck, and my mom braced herself against the dash. My dad put it in park and climbed down, circling the truck to the passenger side.

“Fuck!” he shouted, too loud.

“What is it?” my mom asked.

His sigh was muffled through his mask. “We have a flat.”





Fifty-Six


I raced to the house to open the gates and rearm the alarm while my mom and dad changed the flat. We were already running late, pushing the boundaries of the darkness that had been our ally while loading the gold. With no idea what had happened to Parker or how much heat it had brought down on the peninsula, we needed to find him and get out of Playa Hermosa as quickly as possible.

I entered through the kitchen door and hurried to the keypad in the foyer. For one brief moment I hesitated, my finger hovering over the Gate Entry button. Then I pushed the button, rearmed the alarm, and walked out the door.

When I got to the truck, my dad was rolling out the spare while my mom paced nearby. The truck was jacked up, the front passenger side sporting an empty wheel well.

“Can I do anything?” I asked, my breath warm and moist inside my mask.

“Just keep watch,” my dad said, positioning the tire.

“Everything okay in the house?” my mom asked.

Okay wasn’t the word I’d use for the fact that Logan was drugged upstairs, oblivious to the fact that we’d just stolen twenty million dollars from his family. But what was the point in saying it?

“Everything’s quiet. Gate’s open. Alarm is back on.”

She looked up at one of the cameras near the driveway. “I hope to God the cameras are still on a loop.”

“If they weren’t, we’d be done already,” I said. It was weird talking to her through our masks. Without her face and smile, she was like a stranger.

Her nod was tight.

The breeze was frigid, a fine fog blowing in off the water. I stuffed my hands in my pockets and glanced up at the sky. It was more orange and pink than blue, and I wondered how long the Valium I’d given Logan would hold out. Getting caught with the gold wouldn’t be the worst thing. It would be having to face Logan. Having to look in his eyes when he realized what I’d done would be the thing to break me.

I paced the driveway as my dad tightened the lug nuts on the tire. I felt exposed without the carriage house to shield us on one side, the dense strip of woods on the other. Now there was just the open expanse of lawn leading to the house, the cliffs beyond opening up to the sea, the rising sun casting more light by the second.

I thought of Parker, on the run from the police or maybe even already in custody, being questioned about his motive for baiting the guard at Allied. How long would it be before they realized the monitoring equipment had been tampered with? How long after that before they figured out it was only the Fairchilds’ video feed? And why had the police been called to handle a simple vandal? Why tonight, after weeks of Parker baiting the guard?

I couldn’t even think about the other thing. About the blood on my dad’s shirt and the guard who must have been hurt—or worse—when Cormac had gone to Allied. There wasn’t room in my already overcrowded head to consider the possibilities.

I tasted copper and realized I’d bitten my lip hard enough to make it bleed. I had to stop. I was running in circles. It wasn’t doing us any good. Most important, it wasn’t doing Parker any good. I needed to focus. Concentrate on getting off the Fairchild property. On finding Parker.

“How much longer?” I asked.

“Almost . . . there . . . ,” Cormac said, steam puffing out around his mouth. He gave the wrench a couple more turns, tightening the lug nuts on the new tire. “Let’s go.”

He had the truck in gear before I’d even shut the passenger side door.

We continued down the driveway, past the house. Everything looked the same. Logan’s BMW was still in front of the garage, as if nothing had changed since I’d arrived the night before. I took one last look as we entered the winding, tree-lined drive.

Cormac eased off the accelerator as he came to the open gates. Hitting the road at an excessive speed would only draw attention. If we were careful, anyone who happened to be watching would think we were one of what were probably many trucks that made deliveries to the Fairchild house.

He pulled out into the street and headed for the stop sign at the corner. We were halfway there when something wandered in front of the truck, a splash of blue-green against the asphalt, barely visible in the gray light of early morning.

“Stop!” I yelled.

Cormac accelerated. “We don’t have time to stop.”

A dull thud sounded under the truck as we hit the animal at full speed. Cormac kept going until we came to the stop sign. I pulled off my mask and opened my door.

“Grace!” he yelled after me. “Get back in the car, Grace!”

I ran back to the peacock lying in the middle of the road. It didn’t look dead, but I knew it was. It was perfectly still, its magnificent blue and green feathers fanned out against the asphalt, one glassy brown eye staring unblinkingly into mine.