The Liar

21

At the end of the day, Shelby dumped her purse out for the second time.

“I swear they were in here. I always put them in this side pocket so I don’t have to hunt for them.”

“Crystal’s checking the back again,” Viola told her as she herself hunted under mani tables and around pedi chairs. “You ought to go look in the van again. You may have dropped them this morning.”

“All right, I will. But I can see myself tucking them in the pocket this morning. But I do it every time, so maybe I’m seeing another time.”

“I’ll call Sid and the Pizzateria again. You had such a bunch of bags, honey, you might’ve tipped them out while you were gathering them all up.”

“Thanks, Granny. I’ve got a spare key to the van at home, but it worries me to lose that set. It’s got keys to the van, to Mama’s, to the bar and grill, to here. If they don’t turn up, everybody’s going to have to change locks. I don’t know how I could’ve been so careless.”

She shoved her hair back as the phone on the counter with the contents of her purse rang. “It’s the Pizzateria. Hi, it’s Shelby. Did you— Oh, thank you! Yes, I’ll run right up and get them. Thanks so much.”

“Now you can stop worrying about people changing out their locks,” Vi said.

“It’s such a relief.” With it, the tight band around her chest loosened. “I must’ve dropped them picking up lunch, just like you said. Johnny said one of the waiters found them under the front counter. I guess I dropped them, and they got kicked under without anyone noticing. I’m sorry for all this trouble.”

“Don’t you worry. I’ll let the girls know.”

“I’m going to be late picking up Callie.” Shelby dumped everything back into her bag. She’d sort it out later. “I’m taking Jackson tomorrow—did I tell you? It’ll give Clay a full free day to visit with Gilly and the new baby, get the house ready for them to come home. He mentioned Jackson could use a haircut, so I’ll bring him and Callie in, if that’s all right.”

“I love seeing my babies. You come on in anytime. We’ll work them in—and maybe give Callie a princess mani if there’s time.”

“I’ll see you then.” She kissed Viola on the cheek, and once again dashed out.

She picked Callie up, then, knowing her parents were having a date night—and wasn’t that sweet?—decided on impulse to drive to Griff’s. Callie could play with the pup for a bit, and Griff could give her the details on the trouble he’d had.

It didn’t occur to her until she’d made the turn into his drive that she should’ve texted or called ahead. Drop-bys were risky, and potentially rude.

She couldn’t change her mind, not with Callie so excited, but she had an apology ready when she stopped beside Griff’s truck.

He was out with the dog, turned, grinned, even as Snickers raced toward the van.

“How’s that for timing? I just got home.”

She lifted Callie out, had no more than set her down when her girl dropped to the ground to hug the wildly wiggling dog.

“Hey. I’ve dropped to second place pretty quick.” Griff crouched down. “None of that for me?”

“Griff.” With a flirty smile, Callie lifted her arms. She kissed his cheek, giggled, rubbed his stubble. “Tickly.”

“I didn’t know pretty ladies were coming.”

“I should’ve called. Just coming by, it’s presumptuous.”

“Presume.” With Callie on his hip, he leaned in before Shelby could think if she wanted to avoid, and kissed her. “Anytime.”

“Shrek kisses Fiona, and then she’s her real self.”

“That’s right. Are you your real self, Red?”

“Last I checked. How’s this going?” A little unnerved, she lowered to give Snickers her attention.

“Not bad today. He handled the job. We finished it.”

“Finished?” She looked up as the dog licked everywhere he could reach. “At Mama’s? Oh my goodness, she’s just going to go crazy. Daddy was getting her straight from the salon and taking her into Gatlinburg to visit Gilly and the baby, then for dinner and a movie. She doesn’t know you finished.”

“She’ll know when she gets home.” He set Callie down. “Do me a favor, Little Red. Run around with Snickers some. He needs the exercise.”

“Come on, Snickers! You need cersize.”

“I’m thinking cold beer. You want in?”

“I better not, but you go ahead. You’ve earned it working so late getting that bathroom done.”

He thought about the trip to Gatlinburg, the ring. But he’d given his blood oath not to say a thing until the deed was done. “Ah, well . . .”

“I only came by for a minute, to give Callie the treat, and to ask you what happened last night. I heard something about it at the salon.”

“Word doesn’t travel around here, it just hangs in the air at all times. I don’t know exactly.” He glanced toward the house, found the anger still wanted to rise. “Somebody was in the house, downloaded my files from my laptop.”

“Why in the world— Oh, I bet you do your banking and all that online.”

“You win. It’s all good. Everything’s changed up, secured. But it’s weird. Easier, right, to break in during the day, strip the damn place. But to sneak in one night with a flash drive? It’s just weird. Talked myself into a real security system, though. In addition to the fierce and deadly guard dog.”

Shelby looked over to where Snickers stumbled and rolled. “He is all that. It’s probably smart getting one out here, though we just don’t have much trouble. Except we have had recently, haven’t we? Sometimes I feel like I brought trouble with me.”

“Don’t.”

She tried to shake it off. “You go get your beer. I’m going to let her run off some energy with Snickers, if that’s all right, then I have to get her home, get her fed.”

“We can throw together something here.”

“I’d like to, so would Callie, but I have a dozen things to do yet. And I’m running late myself as I lost my keys and spent near to an hour hunting for them.”

“You put them in that side pocket of the purse thing.”

She lifted her eyebrows. “You’re observant.”

“You do it every time.”

“Well, I guess I missed, as they ended up under the counter at the Pizzateria. I don’t know how they did. I know I didn’t get them out when I was in there, but that’s where they were.”

“Did you have your purse with you all day?”

“Of course—well, not with me,” she amended. “I can’t cart it around while I’m working.”

“Let’s go check your laptop.”

“What? Why?” She nearly laughed but sudden nerves got in the way. “You can’t think somebody stole my keys right out of my bag, then put them under the pizza counter.”

“Let’s just go check your laptop. It’s probably nothing. Callie can run around the backyard with Snickers. I’ll stop and pick up some dinner.”

“I was going to do up some of Mama’s leftover ham from their Sunday dinner with some mashed potatoes and butter beans.”

“Yeah? I’m all in for that if there’s enough.”

“There’s always enough.” A smart cook knew how to make sure of it, and she’d enjoy spending time with him. But . . . “You don’t really think somebody got my keys. That’s just crazy.”

“We’ll just check it out.”

Because crazy or not, he did think it.

He locked up first, for what good it did, and followed them around the winding back roads—gave the oak tree a narrow stare as he rounded the curve.

He thought of Matt, wondered if his friend had done the deed yet. He decided not quite, because once he had, Shelby would surely get a call or text from Emma Kate.

He hoped it was soon. He could keep a secret, but they made him itchy.

He glanced over at Snickers, riding as any self-respecting dog would, with his head out the window, his tongue happily lolling. As impulses went, the dog was a good one.

It didn’t take long to establish Callie in the backyard. Her kid heaven included her prized bubble maker, a puppy and the old family dog.

“Just look at Clancy, running around like a puppy himself. I think Snickers has taken five years off him with this visit.”

“She’s still got a couple more pups over there.”

“I think the one’s enough right now. I’ll go get my laptop so you can relax. Why don’t I get you that beer first?”

“I’ll take it.”

While he waited, Griff considered the what-ifs. If her computer had been compromised, as his had, it could mean the Ridge had some sort of cyber thief trolling. That might make the most sense.

But it struck him as odd that both his and hers would be targets, and pretty much back-to-back. That played as more personal, more direct, to his mind.

He let the possibilities roll around in his head as he stood at the kitchen door, watching the two dogs play tug-of-war with his homemade toy while Callie danced around them in a flood of bubbles.

Moving to the Ridge hadn’t been an impulse like the puppy. He’d thought long and hard about it, considered the angles, the pros, the cons. But the decision had been, like the pup, a good one.

It was a good life here. Quieter than Baltimore, but he liked the quiet. Some culture shock here and there, but he knew how to adapt and adjust.

And wasn’t it interesting—or fortuitous—that months after he’d settled in down here, Shelby had come home? He might just make tomorrow’s word “serendipity.”

“Oh, Griffin!”

“What?” He spun around. “Somebody was in your comp, too?”

“I don’t know. I didn’t look. The Master Suite.” She said it with a flourish, with capital letters. “It’s wonderful, it’s gorgeous. I knew it would be. I saw it happening, but finished, it’s— I’m going to have a whole box of tissues handy because Mama’s going to cry buckets of joy and delight when she sees it. It’s all just perfect, just what she wanted. And you left it sparkling clean.”

“Just part of the service.”

“You put flowers in there.”

“Also part of the service for exceptional clients.”

“Your exceptional client’s going to cry happy tears and take a soak in that big tub the minute she gets home. When I can afford a house, you’re hired.”

“I’ll put you on the list. Let’s have a look at that.”

“All right.”

She put the laptop on the counter, booted it up.

“Have you downloaded or uploaded anything today?”

“Clay sent a couple more pictures of the baby this morning in an e-mail, but that’s all.”

“Let’s see.” He tapped a few keys, brought up her history first. “Did you go into any of these documents, go to any of these places this afternoon?”

“No.” She lifted a hand, rubbed at her throat. “No, I haven’t touched it since this morning, and then only to check my mail.”

“Shelby, somebody went to these places and into these docs. And you can see here, the data’s been uploaded onto another drive. Copied to another drive.”

“Just like yours was.”

“Yeah, just like mine.” Those clever green eyes sharpened with temper. “You should call your brother.”

“Yes. God. Would you do that? I need to see if— I have to check my banking.”

“You do that now. I’ll make the call.” He stepped back, put in a call to Forrest.

“Everything’s still there.” Her voice trembled with relief. “It’s all still there.”

“Forrest is on his way. You’re going to want to change your passwords. But . . .”

She looked up from doing just that. “But what?”

“It just seems to me if somebody was going to pull money out of your account, he’d have done it. I changed mine minutes after whoever this was hit my comp, but he’s had hours to wipe you out, if that’s the reason.”

“What other reason is there?”

“Information, maybe. E-mails, accounts, sites we frequent, calendars. Most of my life’s on my computer. We’re . . . involved, right, you and me?”

“I— I guess we are.” It felt strange to say it out loud.

“And both our computers are hacked into, about twelve hours apart. Maybe you should take a look around your room, check if anything’s out of place or missing. I’ve got my eye on Callie.”

With a nod, she hurried off.

He glanced out the back door again. All was right with that world. A pretty little girl, rainbow bubbles, a couple of happy dogs, all backdropped by the smoky green hills.

But outside that picture, something was very wrong.

• • •

IT TOOK A LITTLE TIME; she wanted to be thorough. But she found nothing out of place.

“Nothing.” She came back in, waited for Griff to turn from his station at the door. “Everything’s just as it should be. But I checked the computer in Daddy’s office here, and I think someone was on there, too. It doesn’t look like they took anything, but there were searches on it when I know no one was home.”

“Okay. Why don’t you sit down a minute?”

“I’ve got to get dinner going. Callie needs to eat.”

“How about a beer?”

She shook her head, then sighed. “I wouldn’t mind a glass of wine. My nerves are shot. I can’t begin to say how tired I am of my nerves being shot.”

“It doesn’t show. This work?” He picked up a bottle of red from the counter with a blue glass stopper.

“It would.”

“I’ll get it.”

He reached up for a wineglass while she dug out potatoes for peeling.

“Something more personal, you said.” She let the homey task soothe her, tried to think objectively. “My first thought goes to Melody, but I honestly can’t see her thinking of something like this. It’s too complicated.”

“Not Melody. She goes for violence or vandalism.”

She peeled a potato, quickly. “You’re thinking of the murder, but that’s violence. That’s as violent as it gets.”

“I’m thinking connections, and how one thing fits with another.”

“Richard.” Her hands stilled briefly as she looked up. “Richard’s been the root of about all the trouble I’ve had, and the trouble you’ve had comes through me.”

“Not through you, Red.”

“Through me,” she corrected. “I’m not taking blame. I spent too much time taking blame for things I didn’t do, things I couldn’t stop, but facts are facts. Connections,” she repeated, and started on the next potato.

“Okay. If we look at connections—” Griff broke off as he heard the front door open. “That’ll be Forrest. Let’s leave it to the professional.”

“I couldn’t be happier to do just that.”

Forrest walked in, took a beer from the fridge. “Spell it out for me.”

“Somebody got to my keys, and used them to get into the house, then into my laptop like they did Griff’s. I can’t find anything else taken, and I keep some cash money, just a little, in my top drawer.”

“Which is the first place a burglar’s going to look. Move it. Tampon box is a pretty safe place.”

“I’ll keep that in mind, but he obviously wasn’t after cash or valuables.”

“Information’s valuable. Where were your keys?”

“In my purse.”

“Come on, Shelby, don’t be a jerk about it.”

“All right, all right.” She drew in a breath, picked up the wine. Settled down a bit, she went back to peeling as she related the key hunt.

“I know I had them when I got to rehearsal. I took them out of the ignition. I used the key Derrick gave me, because I can rehearse early sometimes, before anyone gets in. That’s what I did today. I was in and out before anyone came in, so I used them to lock up again when I left, put them in the side pocket of my purse, like always. I always put them there. I’m not careless.”

“Never were. She’s always been an organized soul,” Forrest said to Griff. “You may not get the rhyme or reason why she puts something where she puts it, but she knows where she put it.”

“Saves time. I went into the salon, and I put my purse behind the counter. Nobody would go after my keys who works there, Forrest. I know all the girls there, and most of the customers now. I mean, the regulars. We get tourists and such, but it would be next to impossible for one of them to go behind the counter, dig in my purse, come up with my keys without somebody noticing. We weren’t all that busy today.”

“So it stayed there, behind the counter, until you got it back out to go home, and couldn’t find the keys?”

“Yes. I mean, no. I took it with me to get the lunch orders. So I had it with me when I went to Sid and Sadie, then to the Pizzateria, where they somehow ended up under the front counter. I just figured I’d dropped them out somehow.”

“Which is what you were supposed to think, and would have kept thinking if our honorary deputy wasn’t on the ball.”

“It wasn’t hard to figure it out,” Griff put in.

“I wouldn’t have,” Shelby corrected. “I wouldn’t have given it another thought.”

“Did you bump into anybody, get bumped into, while you were picking up the orders?” Forrest asked her.

“No.” Brow furrowed, she took herself back through the route, as she had over and over again while she’d searched for the keys.

“I hit the lunch places just after the rush, because Jolene came in to apologize, and that took some time. I guess somebody could’ve gotten their hand in my bag, but it seems like I’d’ve known it. I did nearly bump into somebody,” she remembered. “I was hurrying back because I was running behind, and nearly bumped into this man looking for the best route up Rendezvous Trail.”

“Mmm-hmm. He asked you about that, asked for directions?”

“Yes. He was visiting the area and wanted . . .” She shut her eyes. “Oh my God, I’m an idiot. Yes, he asked me for directions, and I showed him on his map, and I had my hands full with the lunch bags. I went right in after, set down the orders, put my purse away, then went around handing them out. It’s the only time somebody could’ve gotten in my purse. When it was hanging right on my own damn shoulder.”

“What did he look like?” Griff demanded, then glanced at Forrest. “Sorry.”

“No need. That’s the next question.”

“He was tall. I had to look up. Ah . . . give me a second.” She carted the potatoes to the sink, washed them off, laid them on the cutting board to quarter them. “White, maybe early forties. He had sunglasses on. So did I—it was a bright day. He had on a baseball cap.”

“Color? Logo?”

“I think it was tan. I don’t remember if it had a logo or anything. He had dark hair—not black, but dark brown, longish. Kind of curled up over his ears. A little gray in the mustache and beard. Very trim, short beard. He looked . . . like a college professor who played football.”

“Big guy, then?”

“Yeah. Big, solid build. Not fat or flabby.” She put the potatoes on to boil.

Nodding, Forrest took out his phone, scrolled through. “How about this?”

She looked at the phone, and the photo of James Harlow. “No, he was a little older than this.”

“Gray in the beard?”

“That, and . . . He had that professor look to him.”

“Take another look, try to see him with the beard, the longer hair. Do a Wooly Willy.”

“I used to have one of those,” Griff commented, and studied the image over Shelby’s shoulder.

“I just don’t . . . He had thicker eyebrows—dark like his hair, and . . . Oh God, I am an idiot.”

“I’m happy to call my sister an idiot at any time. It’s part of my job, but you’re not on this.”

“I was standing on the sidewalk, talking to Jimmy Harlow, close as I am to you now, and I didn’t even think, never had a twinge about it. Even when he was stealing the keys out of my purse.”

“It’s what he does,” Forrest reminded her. “He changed his appearance, and he caught you when you were distracted, asked a common type of question. Got you going over the map so he could pick your pocket, and when he was done with the keys, he made sure you’d find them in a logical place. You’d have put it down to rush and accident, and never checked your laptop.”

“What was he after? What’s he looking for?”

Forrest cocked a brow at Griff. “What do you think, son?”

“I think he was looking to see if between us we’ve got millions of dollars tucked away, or know where to find it.”

“Why you?” Shelby demanded. “I understand why he’d think I might know. Even believe I had to know.”

“We’ve been spending a lot of time together since you got back.”

“I know you’re sleeping with my sister,” Forrest commented. “Your euphemisms are wasted on me. You move back to the Ridge, and pretty quick you hook up with this one,” he said to Shelby, “who relocated here not that many months ago. A person, especially one who lives on the grift, is bound to wonder if the two of you don’t go back a ways further.”

“He killed Melinda Warren, so it’s just him now.” Griff considered. “He’d get it all, but he has to find the jewelry, the stamps first. You’re his only link to it, Red.”

“I don’t know where it is, or if Richard sold it and blew the money, buried it or put it in some Swiss bank account. And this Jimmy Harlow wouldn’t find anything otherwise on my computer. Or yours, Griffin.”

“We can hope that’ll be enough for him,” Forrest said, “but we’re not going to count on it. I’m going to contact the sheriff, run all this by him. What’s for supper?”

“Ham, mashed potatoes, butter beans.”

“Sounds good. That your dog out there, Griff? The pup you got from Rachel Bell over your way?”

“Yeah. Snickers.”

“He’s starting to dig in my mama’s delphiniums. She’ll skin you both for it.”

“Oh shit.” Griff bulleted outside, calling for the dog.

Forrest grinned, leaned back on the counter. “I don’t much like thinking about my sister having sex.”

“Then I advise you not to think about it.”

“Doing my best not to. Some people,” he continued, “it takes you a while to warm up to, then maybe you make a friendship, or maybe you don’t. Other people, something just clicks, almost like you think, Hey, I remember you. From where, who the hell knows, but there’s that click. You know what I’m saying?”

“I guess I do.”

“With Griff, something clicked. Took a little while with Matt, but I think we’d have gotten around to it. It was Griff who shortened the time it took.”

Taking his phone off his belt, Forrest keyed in a number. “What I’m saying is, he’s a friend, and a good one, and knowing the kind of man he is, I’m adding on he’s a lot more what you deserve than the last one.

“Yeah, Sheriff, hope I’m not disturbing your supper,” Forrest began, and wandered away as he made his report.

• • •

AFTER DINNER, which turned out just fine despite the fact that her mind hadn’t been on the cooking, she shooed Griff out with Callie to chase the lightning bugs. The early ones blinked their yellow lights against the dark, setting the stage for the multitudes who’d light up the hills and forests in June.

Summer was surely on the way, and the snow-caked winter of the North faded until it became distant and almost otherworldly. Something over nearly as soon as it began.

She thought how much she wanted it to be over, but despite lightning bugs, a sweet fairy garden, the deepening green of the hills, something cold had followed her home. Her little girl might be dancing with the lights out in the yard, safe under the eye of the man she was . . . involved with. Her brother would be off now, looking into that something cold. So it was here, a shadow dogging her, and she couldn’t pretend otherwise.

She had run off looking for adventure, love, an exciting future, and had come home disillusioned and riddled with debt. But there was more, and worse, and she’d have to face that down, too.

She wished she had the damn millions. She’d wrap them up in shiny paper, tie them with a bow and hand them over to this Jimmy Harlow without a single regret.

Just go away, she thought. Just leave me to take a good hold on the life I can see having now.

She couldn’t think what Richard had done with all those jewels and stamps, or the money he’d gotten from them if he liquidated them. How could she know when she’d never known him? He’d worn a disguise throughout their marriage just as truly as Jimmy Harlow had worn one that afternoon.

She’d never seen through it. Maybe a shadow, a shape now and then, but never the whole man.

She knew what Richard had seen now when he’d looked at her. A dupe—a mark, that’s what they called people like her. Something useful, maybe valuable for a time, and once used, once the value had been mined, something carelessly discarded.

She was working her way out of debt, wasn’t she? She’d taken control, taken action. She’d figure out a way to take control, to take action in what was happening now.

She wouldn’t live her life being haunted by the actions of a man who’d used her, who’d lied to her, who’d been a stranger to her.

She put away the last of the dishes, decided, hell yes, she’d have another glass of wine. She’d let Callie have a little longer before bath and bed, a little longer to dance with the lights. And tomorrow she’d start working on a way to clear her life of the past, all of it, once and for all.

She poured the wine, started for the door when her phone signaled.

She pulled it out, checked the text from Emma Kate.

I’m getting married! Holy crap! Didn’t know I wanted to until he asked. I’ve got a ring on my finger, and I’m crazy happy. I need to talk to you tomorrow—too busy now. Sending this from the bathroom before I get busy again. OMG and WTF! I’m getting married. Gotta go.

Shelby read it a second time, felt her smile getting bigger, brighter. Her best friend was dancing in the light, too.

So happy for you! she texted back. Crazy happy for you. Stay busy—I can be jealous there as I don’t know the next time I’ll be able to get busy. We’ll talk tomorrow. I want every detail. I love you—tell Matt he’s the luckiest man in the world.

She sent the text, then stepped out to do a little dancing of her own.