Behind Every Lie(56)

My fingers went numb with fear. I scrolled to the next message. It had been sent from a different blocked number.

Go home now, Eva. Or go home in a body bag.



“Everything all right?” Dad asked.

“What? Oh. Yeah.” I forced a laugh. Dad was worried enough about me as it was. I couldn’t tell him about this too. “Just letting Liam know when I’ll be home.”

Dad pulled up behind Melissa’s car. I leaned across the console and hugged him good-bye, but he grabbed my arm as I turned to go.

“Eva, promise me you’ll speak to that lawyer. You have to take him in with you when you talk to the detective. I’m serious now, okay? Promise me.”

I nodded. “I promise, Dad.”

I hugged him again. An extra one for luck.



* * *



The evergreen trees and steel-gray waters of Puget Sound were shrouded in an uneasy fog as I drove off the ferry a little later. I couldn’t get my mind off those texts. Who were they from?

As I drove through Langley, I decided to swing by the gallery and get Fiona’s broken urn. I had the piece of jade, and I knew exactly how it should be repaired now. I would fix it tonight before I went in to see the detective tomorrow morning.

Melissa was out to lunch, so I grabbed the things I needed and ran back to the car. I drove home too fast, an invisible urgency pushing at my back. The house was painted in stark bands of light and shadow that fell between the evergreen trees. Dirty-gray clouds lumbered through the sky. The air smelled earthy and damp, like pine and rainwater and rotting leaves and death.

Shadows danced across the gravel at my feet as I got out of the car. The house looked quiet, almost abandoned in the shifting light. I shivered, that familiar tingling feeling zipping like electricity down my arms and up my spine. I looked around, expecting the weight of someone’s eyes to be boring into me.

But there was no one there.

It’s just because it’s so empty out here, I reminded myself.

Mr. Ayyad appeared around the curve of the lake in the distance, out for a run with his husky faithfully keeping pace. He waved, his lined face creasing into a huge smile. I waved and forced a smile, turning quickly to hurry toward the front door.

“Liam?” I called as I entered.

I dropped my backpack on the floor. The gunshot sound of my shoes striking the hardwood floor reminded me to take them off. I was just kicking them into a corner when Liam appeared at the top of the stairs.

“Eva!”

He jogged down the stairs and swept me into a hug. He was wearing a charcoal-gray business suit with a crisp white shirt and a navy tie. I pressed myself against him, savoring the feel of his body, his smell, the warmth of his skin.

“I’ve been so worried about you!” he murmured into my hair. “How’s your head? How are you feeling?” He held me at arm’s length, his eyes caressing my face, checking to make sure I was okay.

“Fine. Look.” I shrugged my coat off, dropped it to the ground, and lifted my shirtsleeve to show him my arm. “The marks are almost gone.”

Liam hung my coat and backpack on the coatrack and tugged me over to the couch. I sat next to him, letting myself relax into him, his presence like a warm cup of tea after coming in from the rain.

For the first time in days, I felt safe.

I leaned my head back against the couch. “It is so good to be home,” I said.

“Err … not to bring you down, but that detective was here again yesterday,” Liam said. “He wants you to call him.”

I stiffened. “Why was he here?”

“He had more questions. I think he wants to formally question me, and I’m sure he’ll want the same from you. I told him we wouldn’t answer his questions without our lawyer.”

“What sort of questions was he asking?”

“The same ones, really. Where were you that night? What time did you leave? He mentioned …” Liam hesitated.

“What, Liam? What did he mention?”

He froze, his face blank. Too blank. He pulled a blanket from the side of the couch and tucked it tight across my lap, like I was a child.

“Just … that night, the night your mom was killed. You had a migraine and said you were going to take some medicine and go to bed. Did you take anxiety medication with the migraine meds?”

“I don’t remember,” I said finally.

Liam looked disappointed, like I’d failed a particularly important question, so I rushed to add, “But I did learn some things while I was in London. Apparently my mom kidnapped me when I was three years old. My name isn’t Eva.…” I hesitated, unsure I wanted to say it out loud, to make it real. I took a deep breath. “My name is really Laura Ashford.”

Liam stared at me, his face slack, the color of old putty. His mouth moved, but no sound came out. It was the first time I’d ever seen him completely speechless.

I laughed drily. “Imagine what you’re feeling now and multiply it by a thousand. That was me a couple days ago.”

“I don’t understand,” he finally said. “You were kidnapped?”

“Sort of.…”

I told him everything I’d learned about Mom’s past, excluding everything about my own. Call it pride, call it shame, I still didn’t want Liam to know what happened to me. Maybe I should’ve told him in the beginning, but how could I when I doubted my own memories? I couldn’t risk losing him, then or now. Besides, it was too late to sit around stroking my Freudian beard and pondering all the things I should’ve done instead.