The Liar

Stupidity had killed her, in Harlow’s opinion. Maybe prison had dulled her edge, but either way, she wasn’t a factor anymore.

The redhead now, that was another matter. But he had what he wanted, for now. Enough to keep him busy, for now.

Cut it close at the boyfriend’s place, he thought. Pushed it, he admitted. Always better to go in an empty house—but the door was unlocked, and the laptop right there.

Still, he’d gotten the data.

He’d taken a risk walking right up to the redhead on the street, but he’d gotten what he wanted there, too. More, he’d seen no recognition in her eyes when she looked at him.

He wouldn’t have figured her for Jake’s type, but maybe that had been the point.

Plenty to think about there, but for tonight, he had the numbers right in front of him. He had pictures, he had e-mails. He had lives spread out on the screen.

He’d figure out what to do with them.

He’d figure out what to do about them.

24

The wild rhododendrons burst into bloom along the banks of streams, flashed and flamed their way up the slopes. In the high country the starry yellow blossoms of bluebeard lily peeked out from fanning ferns going thick and green.

She took Callie on hikes and hunts to find them when she could, or just to sit and listen to the music of bluebirds and juncos. Once, from a safe distance, she let her girl share the wonder of watching a bear fish in a tumbling stream before he lumbered off into the green.

Callie celebrated her fourth birthday in the backyard of the house where her mother had grown up, with friends her own age, with family, with people who cared about her.

For Shelby it was the shiniest gift in the pile.

There was a chocolate cake shaped like a castle with all the characters from Shrek scattered around it, and games, and gifts, balloons and streamers.

“It’s the happiest birthday she’s ever had.”

Viola sat, her great-grandson in her arms, and watched the kids play on one of Callie’s treasured gifts. A Slip ’n Slide.

“She’s getting old enough to know what’s what about a birthday now.”

“It’s more than that, Granny.”

Viola nodded. “It’s more than that. Does she ever ask about her father?”

“She doesn’t. She hasn’t said a word about him since we came home. It’s like she’s forgotten him, and I don’t know if that’s right or wrong.”

“She’s happy. She’ll have questions one day, and you’ll have to answer them, but she’s happy. She sure has a love affair going on with Griff.”

Shelby smiled over to where a soaking wet Callie clung to Griff’s legs. “She does.”

“How about you?”

“I can’t deny we’ve got something going, and since where we are makes me happy, I’m not thinking too much where we’re going to end up.”

“You’ve lost most of the sad, worried look behind your eyes. You’ve got my eyes—through me, to Ada Mae, to you, and on to Callie,” Viola pointed out. “Don’t think I can’t read them.”

“I’d say the sad’s gone, and the worry’s lessened. Are you going to give up that baby and give somebody else a chance?”

Viola laid a kiss on Beau’s forehead. “Here you go. Sleeping like an angel right through all this noise. Go ahead and take him out in the sun for a few minutes. Not too long now, but I expect some vitamin D’s good for him.”

It felt wonderful to have a baby in her arms again, to feel the weight and the warmth, to smell the down of his hair. She looked over at her daughter. Such a big girl now, sprouting like a weed. And the yearning pulled and tugged inside her as Beau waved a hand in the air in his sleep.

When Clay, nearly as wet as the kids, walked over, she shook her head. “Don’t you even think about stealing this baby from me. You’re too wet to take him. Besides, I’ve barely had my turn.”

“I figured I wouldn’t get much chance to hold him today.”

“He favors you, Clay.”

“That’s what Mama says.”

“She’s right.”

“I’m after a beer—Gilly’s driving. You want one?”

“I’m sticking with lemonade until this is over.”

Still he put an arm around her shoulders, turned her so they walked to the big tub holding the beer. “Forrest filled me in on what’s going on with you.”

“I don’t want you to worry about any of that. You have a new baby to think about, not to mention Gilly and Jackson.”

He kept his arm around her. He had a way of hugging you in, and always had, Shelby thought, that made her feel cherished. “I’ve got plenty of room for my sister in my thinking-about book. Nobody who looks like this Harlow character’s come by work. I haven’t seen anybody like that around the neighborhood. I know the police are still looking—that’s what they have to do. But he’s most likely gone. Even so.”

He pulled out a beer, popped off the cap. “You be careful, Shelby. I feel better knowing Griff’s looking out for you.”

Instantly the shoulders he’d soothed tightened. “I’ve done a pretty good job looking out for myself.”