The Liar

“Panic.” Meticulously, Griff tested the next seam. “It’s a gateway to accidents.”

“The widow comes to, calls an ambulance for the son. It was touch and go there, but he pulled through. Neither of them can say for sure who fired the weapon. It all happened fast, and the son was in a coma for near to three weeks, and never did get anything but spotty memory back of the whole event.”

“What about the bad guys?”

“They split up, with plans to meet at a motel on the way to the Keys where there’s supposed to be a private plane waiting to take them to Saint Kitts.”

“I always wanted to go there. I take it not all the bad guys made it to the tropics.”

“No, they didn’t. The brunette and Harlow show up at the motel. Foxworth didn’t. But the cops did.”

“Because Foxworth tipped them off.”

“Now you’re stepping on my finish. They sure did get an anonymous call from a drop phone, and it’s smart money to bet it was Foxworth.”

Griff snagged the Mountain Dew from Forrest, took a long gulp before handing it back. “Honor among thieves is bullshit.”

“The shittiest bull in the field. To top it, Harlow had a diamond ring in his pocket worth about a hundred grand. Pretty clear Foxworth planted it on him just to sweeten the . . . duplicity.”

“Nice use of the word.”

“I’ve got some skills. He’d done time before, Harlow, but nothing violent. He swears he didn’t shoot anybody, and that the brunette had a clear eye line on who did, but she made the deal first, and they stuck with it. She got four years, he got twenty-five. And Foxworth walked away with millions.”

“That’d piss you off.”

“Wouldn’t it just?”

“But if Harlow’s doing twenty-five years—”

“Should be, but he’s out.”

Slowly, Griff lowered the sanding block. “How the hell did that happen?”

“The prison authorities and the State of Florida wonder the same. He escaped right before Christmas.”

“Happy fucking holidays.” Rolling it around, Griff took off his cap, shook off the dust, settled it on again. “He’s got to be the prime suspect on this murder. Why didn’t you tell me straight off?”

“I wanted to see if you’d get around to asking. I already sent his mug shot to your phone, though all three of them had a hand with disguises. He’s a big guy, formidable.”

“Like Big Bud?”

Tickled, Forrest laughed. “No, I said big. Not massive. You take a look at the picture I sent, and if you see anybody who puts you in mind of it, stay clear and call me.”

“You got that. Forrest, you said he never got busted for violent crimes, but the brunette told Shelby different. That he was violent.”

“Makes you wonder, doesn’t it? Keep an eye on my sister, Griff.”

“Both of them.”

Forrest started out. “That’s tedious work you’re doing there.”

Griff shrugged. “It’s just work,” he said, and went back to sanding.

15

Shelby stood by the counter in Emma Kate’s trim little kitchen and watched her friend slide a lasagna casserole into the oven. She didn’t have long, but wanted to squeeze through the small window of time to see Emma Kate and her apartment.

“I’m going to get laid good and proper tonight.” With a wicked grin, Emma Kate set the timer on the oven. “Spinach lasagna’s Matt’s favorite, and I picked up a nice wine on the way home from the clinic. Anything with spinach might not be my idea of a romantic dinner for two, but it sure is his. I’ll reap the benefits.”

“It’s nice what you have with him. I can see how well you fit together. And I really like your place here.”

“I do, too.”

Turning from the stove, she could see through the doorway—Matt had taken off the door and stored it—to the old butcher block table he’d refinished, and where they’d have their romantic spinach lasagna.

“Of course, when Matt and Griff sit around, it’s how they’d take out this wall here, or do such and that with the backsplash. I guess one of these days I’m going to let Matt have his way with building a place from the ground up. He talks about it a lot.”

“Do you want that?”

“He’s gone native on me, Shelby. Wants a tucked-away place in the hills, in the woods, like Griff has. I guess I can see it, too. Quiet and ours. Maybe I’ll learn to garden. But for right now, it’s sure easy to step out the door, walk a few minutes and be at the clinic.”

“Oh, but wouldn’t it be fun to build a house from scratch? Deciding just where you want this room or that room, where the windows would go, and what kind?”

“The three of you could have endless conversations on that,” Emma Kate decided. “I start getting nervous once it goes beyond what color paint for the walls. In an apartment like this, everything’s pretty well set.

“Do you want to sample the wine?”

“Better not. I can’t stay long. I just wanted to see you and your apartment. Pretty well set or not, it’s really you, Emma Kate, bright and fun,” she said as she wandered out of the kitchen to the living room with its deep-cushioned red sofa, crazy-patterned pillows tossed over it. The framed posters of big, bold flowers added more color, more charm.