Behind Every Lie(66)

Andrew’s phone rang and rang, finally kicking to voice mail.

“Andrew, I just got off the phone with Detective Jackson. He was being weird. Is something going on? Call me.”

I pulled my hat lower on my head and lifted the collar of my coat, letting the warmth of my breath heat my chilled face. On the horizon, dark, bruised-looking clouds raced closer.

What was it Mom always said? Not all storms cause chaos. Some just clear the air.

Ginger had disappeared, so I headed home alone, my boots squelching in the mud. I picked my way over the rocky incline that sloped steeply into the water and rounded the last bend to home.

I froze.

Someone was there, moving just beyond the garage. He threw a glance over his shoulder, then walked behind the house. I dropped down behind a large bush and peered into the thickening shadows. Was it Sebastian? Or the man who’d been following me in London? My heart thumped painfully in my chest.

A second later, the man reappeared. He was very tall, with a grizzled face and colorful tattoos crawling up his throat. He wore black steel-toed boots, a black raincoat, and a black beanie pressed tight against his skull.

“Hello, Eva!” a voice boomed behind me.

I jumped to my feet, heart thudding. Mr. Ayyad stood grinning at me. He was clad in full Lycra running gear. His dog gazed at me with bemused blue eyes. You are so ridiculous, his expression said.

“This is Jung,” Mr. Ayyad said, waving at the dog. “After Carl Jung. It is ironic, no? Because I was a psychologist in my former life.” He grinned and stroked a hand down his beard, which hung past his collarbone.

I held out a hand for Jung to smell. “You nearly scared the life out of me!” I laughed, but it sounded a little strangled in my throat.

Mr. Ayyad’s smile dropped. “I am terribly sorry!” He followed my gaze to the person creeping around my house. “Oh, I see.”

He tugged Jung’s leash, and together they strode across the gravel drive.

I was too far away to hear the conversation, but Mr. Ayyad said something to the man, who walked up the driveway to an unmarked van I hadn’t noticed. He pulled a small box out of the back, handed it to Mr. Ayyad, then got in the van and drove away.

“Here you are.” Mr. Ayyad handed me the box. The bank of clouds had started to release a fine drizzle, the moisture glistening on his lined skin. “He was one of those freelance delivery guys.”

I took the box and read the packaging: ISLAND ALARMS. Liam’s house alarm had arrived early.

“Thank you. I-I thought he was a burglar or something.” I felt ridiculous saying it out loud.

He nodded, his dark eyes serious as he stroked his beard. “No need to apologize. We must trust our instincts, no? Certainty can only arise through doubt, after all.”

“Thank you.”

“You will reach out if you need me, yes?”

I nodded.

“I am an old man, but I am good for some things.” He smiled one of his full-face smiles, and tapped his ear. “Listening is one of them.”

My face flushed and I looked at my feet.

Jung tugged at his leash, ready to return to running. Mr. Ayyad raised a hand as he started jogging in place. “I must run now. I’m practicing for the Ninety-Five to One Hundred World Championship race in November.”

I gaped at him.

He laughed at my obvious surprise. “We aren’t dead until we’re dead, my dear.”

He waved good-bye and jogged away, Jung following close behind.

I dug my keys out and unlocked the front door. In the bedroom, I stripped my damp jeans off but couldn’t find a clean pair, so I headed into the walk-in closet and emptied the dirty clothes basket onto the floor. Grabbing the cleanest jeans I could find, I pulled them on, but as I turned to go I caught sight of something that had been stuffed in the very corner of the closet, behind the dirty clothes basket.

My missing green corduroy coat.

I picked it up. And then I saw something that made me freeze. Large rust-colored blotches stained the collar.

Blood.

My hand went limp and the coat dropped, lead-like, to the floor. Horror slid like heated metal through my insides.

Whose blood was on it? And why had I hidden it at the back of the closet?

Something scratched at my brain. A memory? A shadow? It felt tantalizingly close. I thumped my forehead with the heel of my hand, something flickering there. But nothing came.

My phone started ringing from downstairs, cutting through the blankness. I shoved the coat back behind the laundry basket and hurried to answer it.





thirty-four

kat




17 years before

SEEING ROSE HAD NUMBED my brain. Eight years. I’d thought she was dead for eight years!

Finally I managed to open my mouth. “Rose?” My voice was hoarse with shock.

She threw her arms around me, laughing and crying at the same time.

“Katherine! I found you!” She pulled back to look at me, her hands caressing my face, running over my shoulders, my arms, as if to ensure I was real. “It’s you! It’s really you!”

“Where … what … ? I thought …” I had so many questions I had no idea where to start. All that came out was a statement: “You aren’t dead.”

Rose shook her head. “No.”