The Liar

25

She’d known the Hamburgs, a little, had attended a dinner party in their home. Richard had played golf with Ira Hamburg a few times, and she and Richard had hosted them at the country club. They’d socialized at other galas or fund-raisers now and then.

It wasn’t hard to remember some of the details of that particular night as she’d pictured her family here, in this house, celebrating birthdays—and had missed them.

She remembered Richard bringing her a glass of champagne at one point and telling her, impatiently, to mingle, for God’s sake, and stop sulking. He was going outside for a bit to have a cigar and talk some business with a couple of potential clients.

She couldn’t say how long she’d mingled, wandered, put bids on a couple of items in the silent auction as he’d instructed her to do. It could’ve been as much as an hour, she supposed.

“He was in a good mood when he found me—said he’d been hunting for me, and why didn’t we go check on our bids before the auction closed. I thought he’d gotten some business because he was in a better mood, and then he put a big bid on this wine package.”

“The Hamburgs live less than a mile from the hotel,” Boxwood pointed out.

“I know it.”

They asked her about other nights, days, times. Some she could remember, others were lost in a fog. From the photographs, she recognized cuff links, the diamond studs, a three-strand diamond and emerald bracelet Richard had given her once, then accused her of losing when it disappeared from her jewelry box.

Forrest lingered after the FBI stepped out.

“Do you want me to stay?”

“No, no, I’m all right. Mama will be back with Callie soon. Just . . . do they believe me? Don’t answer as my brother, but as a police officer.”

“They believe you. They played a version of good cop/bad cop with Boxwood trying to trip you up here and there, giving you the hard eye. But they both believed you. You were helpful, Shelby. The best thing now is to put it aside. Let the FBI do what they do.”

“I sold stolen property.”

“You didn’t know it was stolen, had no reason to think it had been. We’ll work that out.”

“How could I not see—how can they believe I didn’t know? I swear, if I didn’t know I didn’t know, I wouldn’t believe me.”

“The BTK killer had a wife and raised two children, lived in a community, went to church. None of them knew what he was. Some people wear masks well, Shelby, know how to compartmentalize beyond what’s normal.”

“He wasn’t right, was he? I mean, Richard couldn’t have been right inside to be able to do all he did.”

“The police officer’s telling you he was a sociopath, and a shrink would likely have a lot of fancy terms for what he was. But no, he wasn’t right. That’s done—you’re never going back to that. You’re going to have to deal with some of it, but mostly? You need to look at the here and now, and the future.”

“I’ve been trying to. What was just won’t let go. I keep finding out more.”

“You’re a Pomeroy with MacNee in your blood. You’ll stand up to it. You call me, you hear, if you need me.”

“I will. I don’t know what I’d’ve done if you hadn’t been with me today.”

“That’s just one more thing you never have to worry about again.”

Shelby thought if the whole of the Ridge didn’t know about the FBI, then they soon would. So she told her parents everything as soon as she could.

The very next morning before the first customer came into the salon, she told her grandmother and the rest of the staff.

“I thought y’all should know.”

“Ada Mae called me last night, told me all this,” Viola began. “I’ll tell you what I told her. None of this is your fault, not a bit. And we can look at that storm as the right hand of God making sure you and Callie were well rid of the son of a bitch.”

“I’d rather he wasn’t dead,” Shelby said after a minute. “I’d rather he was alive so I could tell him what I think of him. I hate that he died believing I was nothing. I hate that he died knowing I never had an inkling what he’d done.”

“My sister’s ex kept a woman over in Sweetwater for six years,” Vonnie piped up. “Had an apartment there with her and everything. None of us knew a thing about it—and that man went to the Lutheran church every Sunday he was in town. Coached Little League and belonged to the Elks Club. Lydia might never have known if the woman in Sweetwater hadn’t called her up and told her all of it after she found out Lorne had taken up with a third woman.”

Vonnie shrugged. “I guess it’s not the same thing, but I’m just saying, we all thought the world of Lorne until we knew to think different.”

“Thank you, Vonnie. I’m sorry for your sister, but I guess that makes me feel better.”

“We don’t always know somebody the way we think we know them.” Crystal readied her station for her first appointment. “My good friend Bernadette’s cousin down in Fayetteville? Why, her husband embezzled twelve thousand dollars from her daddy’s hardware business before they found out. Bernadette’s cousin stayed with him after, too. And if you ask me, anybody who’d steal from family isn’t worth spit.”

“Hell, that ain’t nothing.” Lorilee fisted her hands on her hips. “I almost married Lucas John Babbott—y’all remember. About ten years back I was ready to walk down the aisle with that man. Something just said, Don’t do it, Lorilee, so I didn’t, but it was close. And I found out he’d inherited his granddaddy’s cabin over by Elkmont. You know what he was doing in it? That man was cooking meth, and now he’s in jail.”

Others picked up the theme, ran with it. Viola stepped over, put an arm around Shelby’s waist. “People ask me, don’t you want to retire, Vi? You and Jack could go traveling, or you could sit on the porch and sip lemonade all day. And I think, Why, I wouldn’t step away from this place for all the tea in China. Where else are you going to get such entertainment—and add to the till while you do?”

She kissed Shelby’s cheek. “You did right telling everybody straight-out.”

“It’s the same as family.”

“It’s just the same. Crystal! I see your nine-o’clock crossing the street. You girls get on to work now.”

The next day she met Emma Kate for a drink after work—and after she’d spent a solid hour with Bitsy.

“I’m buying. I owe you.”

“I won’t say no.” Shelby pulled out her notebook, opened it. “All right, the engagement party first. It’s all set—time, place, date. I did talk her down on the flowers, and the food. Just gentle suggestions about saving the big guns for the wedding. Why didn’t we make this pretty and elegant, but sometimes elegance is simple. Since you’re going with yellow and orchid for your wedding colors, I steered her away from that, too. Said why didn’t we go for bride white—that’s like you wanted, right?”

“Yes. All white flowers. You got her to agree?”

“I showed her pictures I’d found in magazines and online, and she got so excited. Then, since I’d already talked to the florist and we’d figured it all, I said let’s order these right now! Got her when her enthusiasm was high.”

Pleased and proud, Shelby brushed her palms together. “It’s done.”

“I owe you two drinks.”

“Emma Kate, you owe me so many drinks we can’t count them. We’re down from that orchestra she wanted to hire out of Nashville, to booking Red Hot and Blue—which Tansy suggested, and you liked.”

“Oh my God, we’re not going to have men in white tuxedos playing waltzes? Matt and I both really liked Red Hot and Blue when they’ve played at Bootlegger’s.”

“It’ll rock some, and be a good chance for you and Matt to see if you want them for the wedding, want something else or want to go with a DJ, since you haven’t decided on that.”

Meticulously, Shelby ticked it off her list. “Then I said to your mama how I’d work with the hotel as she needed to be fresh and be mother-of-the-bride-to-be and got her talking about what she’d be wearing, how she wanted her hair. And I’d made up these poster boards of table decorations and flowers and all that.”

Shelby gave her nails an exaggerated buff on her sleeve. “I bowled her over, is what I did, then didn’t give her much chance to waffle on it.”

“Poster boards!”

“I also decided I’m not showing you. You’re going to trust me, and be surprised. The wedding, you’re in on every little detail, but this is going to be a surprise, and I promise you’ll be happy with it.”

“I don’t have to think about it?”

“You don’t have to think about it.”

“If I didn’t love Matt, I might change my mind and marry you. But then he has certain attributes you lack, not to mention between him and Griff they can fix anything. He’s over at Griff’s right now, helping out for a couple hours. I expect it’ll run to three as Matt’s got a head of steam working up on finding the right property and building a house, or doing what Griff’s doing and finding an old place to rehab.”

“Are you ready for all that?”

“Like I trust you to make everything look beautiful, I trust him to figure that out. I’ll have plenty to say about it, but I’ll let him get going on it first.”

“All right, then.” Shelby wiggled her butt back, leaned forward. “Let’s talk weddings.”

They plotted, planned, with Shelby taking notes.

“Put that down for now.” After twenty minutes, Emma Kate waved at the notebook. “It’s starting to make my head spin.”

“We got a good start here.”

“More than a good start, and it’s time to change the channel. I want to know about you. Have you heard any more from the FBI?”

“No. I keep expecting them to come to the door again, with a warrant for my arrest as accessory after the fact, or something. But they haven’t.”

“If they think you had any part of all that, they don’t deserve to be special agents.”

Forrest said the same, Shelby thought, but it steadied her ground to hear it from her best friend.

“I’m going to go over all the pictures and letters again. I needed to put it away for a couple of days so I could start fresh. Maybe I’ll remember something else, or find something else.”

“What’s the point now, Shelby?”

“Knowing. Just knowing. I don’t expect I’m going to find a treasure map to what he stole in Miami, or any of the others that are still unfound. I’m supposing there are others still unfound. But knowing feels important.”

“I wish you’d let it go, but the girl I grew up with wasn’t ever good at letting things go if they mattered to her.”

“This matters to me. What if I did find something that led to something, that took the police to somewhere else and they found them? At least that woman and her son in Miami would have that.”

“Shelby.” Emma Kate took her hand, squeezed it. “You’re looking for a way to pay them back somehow, like you’re paying off all that debt. And none of it’s yours, none of it. And that’s one of the reasons—I know you—you slapped the brakes on with Griff.”

Shifting, Shelby got busy tidying her notes. “That’s not exactly so.”

“It’s close enough. You looked happy together. You looked good together.”

“I just wanted to slow things down some.”

“You’ve got to move at your own speed, and I’d never say different.”

“I guess he had some things to say about it.”

“Not much, not to me. Not to Matt, either, or I’d’ve gotten it out of Matt. He’s not the vault Griff is, and I know the combination anyway. I expect he might say more tonight, working on the house, having a beer, that sort of thing. I’ll get that out of Matt easy enough.”

“He was awful mad. It’s hard to know how to deal with a man who gets mad so . . . reasonably.”

“I’d hate that!” Emma Kate laughed, sat back. “You can’t win against reasonable, not really.”

“And what makes it harder? He went by the house when I was working—he’d know I was working and Mama had Callie. Mama said how he went out back with Callie and spent nearly an hour with her on the swings, with the puppy.”

“Well! That shows you what kind of dastardly individual you’re dealing with.”

“All right, Emma Kate.” Shelby let out a sigh. “I don’t know what to do about it, exactly. I’ve got a right to be mad about some of the things he said.”

Sipping wine, Emma Kate lifted her eyebrows. “Reasonable things?”

“I guess from where he’s standing, but that doesn’t make them less awful for me.”

“I’m trusting you on this engagement party, and you haven’t let me down yet.”

“And I won’t.”

“That’s why I trust you. Why don’t you trust me?”

“I— Of course I do. I do trust you.”

“Good. Go over there and talk to Griff.”

“Oh, but—”

“Did I say ‘but’ on the party? I did not,” Emma Kate said definitely. “So you trust what I’m saying to you, and go over and talk to Griff. Matt says he’s been stewing for days. I can see you are, too, maybe needed to, but stewing time’s over. Go talk it out. One way or the other, both of you are bound to feel better, or at least know where you both stand.”

She wasn’t going to do it—wasn’t it better to just let things sit awhile? But the idea sat in the back of her head, nagging, through dinner, through the bedtime ritual with Callie.

She told herself to settle down, spend the rest of the evening going over the photos and letters again. But she couldn’t settle.

She went down where her parents held their own evening ritual of TV and needlework.

“Callie’s all tucked in. I wonder if you’d mind if I went out awhile? There’s something I’d like to do.”

“You go on.” Her father gave her an absent smile before he zeroed back in on the ball game. “We’re not going anywhere.”

“I’m dragging your daddy as far as the front porch when the game’s over. We’re going to sit and have ourselves a glass of tea and smell the roses rambling up the trellis.”

“You enjoy that, and thank you. I won’t be very long.”

“You take your time,” her mother said. “And you put some lipstick on, fluff your hair some. You can’t go over to Griff’s without your lipstick.”

“I didn’t say I was going to Griff’s.”

“A mama knows. You put some lipstick on.”

“I won’t be long,” Shelby repeated, and got out before her mother suggested she change her clothes.

• • •

GRIFF HADN’T SHOWERED off the day, because he’d decided the day wasn’t done. Even after Matt left, he kept at it. He broke briefly—let the dog out, fixed a sandwich, let the dog in, but kept focused on the work.

He’d finished the closet, and thanks to Matt, the interior was drywalled, had its second coat of mud. So he focused on the window seat he’d designed for the double windows looking over the backyard. It’d be a nice place to sit—with convenient storage beneath.

He saw the room, finished, pretty clearly. And even if that image irritated him half the time, he would damn well stick with it.

He made a habit of sticking.

Once he had the closet sanded, the window seat finished, the trim finished, all the room really needed was paint and a good clean. Well, some punch out—outlet covers, light switch covers, and he figured—and had wired for—a ceiling fan with a light kit.

Had to find the right one, one that worked with his image of the room.

Maybe he’d play around online tonight, see what he found.

Then there was the small en suite. That he’d tackle next, and probably within the next evening or two as he had the time.

He had music going, heard nothing else until Snickers began to bark. When the dog scrambled out of the room, raced downstairs, Griff pulled out his earbuds.

He picked up his hammer, tested its weight, and started out with it. He heard the knock then—he really needed to do a doorbell—and though he doubted the laptop invader would bother with a knock, he glanced out the landing window.

And saw Shelby’s van.

Emotions rolled up, conflicting, contrasting. Pleasure—God, he’d missed just looking at her face. Annoyance. Whose fault was it he hadn’t seen her face? Puzzlement, as it wasn’t like her to drop by after nine at night. Relief, tremendous, that she had.

He set the hammer down on the steps, walked the rest of the way down, where the dog barked and wagged at the door.

He opened the door and wondered how he managed to keep his heart from just falling at her feet.

“I hope it’s all right I came by,” she began. “I wanted to talk to you.”

And he wanted to pluck her right off the ground, feel her hang onto him while he kissed them both brainless.

“Sure.”

“Hey, Snickers. There’s a good dog,” she soothed as she bent over to rub him. “Look how he’s grown already. Maybe we could sit outside. It’s such a nice night.”

“We can do that. You want a drink or anything?”

“No, don’t bother. You’re working—you smell like sawdust and sweat, in a good way.”

“Just fiddling with a couple things. I could use a break.”

He stepped outside, gestured to one of the chairs.

“I know you’re mad at me,” she began as she sat, and kept rubbing the dog, who plopped his forefeet on her knees. “And you were clear as to why.”

“Okay.”

“I tried to explain my reasons to you, but I don’t think you understand.”

“I understand,” he countered. “I just don’t agree with your reasons.”

“You haven’t lived my life, Griffin. One that brought federal agents to the door.”

“I heard about that, and I heard they were grateful for your cooperation.”

“Forrest.”

“He wasn’t passing on state secrets. Plus, they talked to me.”

“They . . .” Her hands stilled; her head whipped around. “They came here?”

“Just for a chat. It’s also not a state secret you and I have spent time together since you got back. It wasn’t a problem.”

Her eyes sparked, flashed. Temper, resentment, frustration—he saw the mix clearly enough.

“Why can’t you see it’s a problem for me that they’d come here, ask you questions about something you didn’t have anything to do with?”

“You haven’t lived my life, either, Shelby. They knew about the laptop business, so they followed through. The way I look at it, having the locals and the feds involved in this is only a good thing.”

“He killed someone.”

“What?”

“They didn’t tell you that, and Forrest didn’t choose to impart that information in his reports to you?”

“No, and don’t be so snotty about it. Your brother’s my friend,” he continued before she could toss something else at him. “He doesn’t report to me. He talks to me.”

She had been snotty about it, she admitted, but . . . Put it aside, she ordered herself, and say what needed saying.

“Richard killed a woman, in Atlanta. Or she fell down the stairs, it’s not altogether clear, while he was stealing from her. He left her there, just left her dead or dying on the floor and walked away. That’s who I thought I married, that’s who I had a child with, that’s who I lived with for nearly five years.”

“That’s hard on you, and I’m sorry about it. But what he did, who he was, what he was? It doesn’t have anything to do with me. It doesn’t have anything to do with you and me.”

“It has everything to do with me, so that means it has to do with you and me. Why can’t you see that?”

“Because this is now.” He said it simply. “Because I’m in love with you. Because I can see you have feelings for me. Maybe you’re not where I am, and I can’t argue about that, but you have feelings. What I see is you pushing them away, and me with them, because a sociopath, a con man, a thief, and apparently a murdering son of a bitch, used you, deceived you, and you’re letting yourself feel guilty and responsible for it.”

“I have to be responsible for my own choices, my actions and the consequences of them.”

“Okay,” he said after a moment. “You’re right about that. Now, when are you going to stop beating yourself up for them?”

“I can’t make another mistake.”

“I’m not a mistake.” He shoved up at that, had to stride away, pull his control back, grip it. “Don’t hang that on me.”

“No, no, it’s me. It’s—”

“It’s not you, it’s me? That’s a classic.”

“Oh, just shut up a minute. Just shut up! I do have feelings for you, and they’re scaring me. I can’t just run with my feelings again because, yes, this is now. Now I have a little girl. I have a life to make for her, for us. I have to know I’m doing right, not just taking what I want for me. I need to take a breath, damn it. I need to settle down and think, not just feel. I hurt people. I hurt my family, and I’m never, never going to do that again. I hurt myself in the long run.”

She rose as well, walked to the rail on the other side of the steps from him. Across the lawn, into the trees, scores of lightning bugs put on a show, countless pulses of warm light against the dark.

“I’m not beating myself up, or not much anymore. Or feeling sorry for myself. I’m done with that. I came home, and I brought my girl home, and I’m building that life for us. That feels right. I feel good about that. It would’ve been enough, Griffin, it would’ve been more than enough for me. Then you . . . I just . . . There were—are—feelings.”

“I planned to go slower. I figured to get you to go out with me and Emma Kate and Matt a few times, over a couple months, maybe. Get used to being around me. Then I’d ask you out. I didn’t follow the blueprint.”

“You have a blueprint?”

“I always have a blueprint. But the thing about them is, sometimes you see how to improve the whole with a change, or some changes. So you do. I planned to go slower, but . . . Did I push you?”

“No.” It was wrong, she admitted, it was unfair and wrong to let him think so. “No, you didn’t push me, Griff. You . . . appealed, and you . . .”

She looked out, all those pulses of warm yellow. He’d put a light in her, she thought. Pulses of light against the dark she’d carried.

“How much you appealed caught me off guard. I wanted—want—to be with you. You’re the opposite of Richard. And I asked myself if that was why you appealed so much. You’re so different from him. Not flashy or showy, just—”

“Dull?”

She glanced over quickly, relieved when she saw him smile. “No, not dull. Real. I needed real more than I can say, and there you were. I have feelings, and they scare me.”

“I don’t mind that. You take the time you need to work that out. Don’t make excuses not to see me—be straight about it.”

“I didn’t know how. I hadn’t figured out how because I didn’t want to stop seeing you. I felt I should, for a while, but I didn’t want to.”

“Has it been a while yet?”

“It feels like it’s been a lot longer than a while.”

“There’s a point of agreement. I’ve missed the hell out of you, Red.”

“You came by to see Callie when I was at work.”

“I missed the hell out of her, too. And Callie and I didn’t have a fight.”

With a nod, Shelby stared out at the dark, the light. “I kept thinking you’d come by to see me, too. You came to Friday Nights, but you stayed away from me.”

“You hurt me.”

She turned to him quickly. “Oh, Griff—”

“I’m telling you, Shelby, don’t stack me up against him, not in any way. It hurts me, and it really pisses me off.”

“I’m sorry for that. I can’t promise it won’t happen again, but I’ll work on it.”

“That’s good enough.”

“You hurt me, too, and really pissed me off.”

“I’m sorry for that. I can’t promise it won’t happen again, but I’ll work on it.”

That made her laugh, and mean it. “I really have missed you something awful. I don’t just mean the sex, though I’ve missed that. I just missed talking to you. But . . .”

“Uh-oh.”

“I thought I was in love once before, so fast it was like being swept under a wave. But I wasn’t in love, not the way it should count. Maybe you need a little time, too.”

“If he’d been who he pretended to be when he took you under that wave, would it have counted?”

“I . . .” She could only lift her hands, let them fall.

“You can’t say because he wasn’t. He wasn’t who you thought he was, so you can’t know. Here’s what I know. I wanted you the first second I saw you. That was more a holy shit moment than what they’d call love at first sight. Look at her. That’s the most beautiful woman I’ve seen in my life.”

She wanted to laugh again, but his words clogged her throat. “Wet and miserable, as I recall.”

“And sad and beautiful. Then you and Callie, and you walking home with her, pushing that stroller and all those groceries up those hills. You’re so mad—at yourself—so worn out. And she’s so sweet. So I wanted you, then I wanted to help you. I fell for Callie first, I’ll tell you that straight-out. She had me wrapped up in about two minutes.”

“She has a way.”

“She’s got your way. I’m surprised you don’t see it. Anyway, then I heard you sing, and I started falling. I watched you sing, and I fell harder. Then I had you, and that put the cap on it. But what twisted the cap, secured it tight, was—” He stuck his hands in his pockets as he studied her. “Hell, you might not like what twisted the cap tight.”

“I want to know. There isn’t a woman in the world who wouldn’t.”

“All right. What twisted the cap tight? You punching Melody. I don’t think I’m a particularly violent man, but when you did that, all I could think was, Well, hell, Griff, you’re in love with her. You’d be a fool not to be.”

“You’re making that up.”

“I’m not.” He stepped toward her, laid his hands on her shoulders. “I had to pull you off—sort of wished I didn’t have to—but I realized, yeah, I want her. I want to help her. I can fix some things for her. But goddamn, a woman who throws a punch like that? She can fix some things, too. She can do whatever she needs to do.”

She’d thought hearing that he was in love with her rattled her. But that last sentence, the tone of admiration, just stunned. “You thought that?”

“I know that. I’ve seen it. I admire the hell out of it. And I love you. So I don’t mind scaring you a little because you’ll handle it. But when you look at me, Shelby, you’d better see me. Just me. When you think of me, just me.”

“I don’t think of anyone but you when you kiss me, when you touch me.”

“Then I should do more of that.”

“Oh God, I wish you would.”

She wrapped herself around him, pressed her mouth to his.

And he did a lot more of it.

“Come inside.” He couldn’t get enough. “Come to bed.”

“Yes.” She ran her hands up his back, thrilled to feel hard muscle again. “Yes.” Drew in his scent—sweat and sawdust. “Yes.”

They circled toward the door, and she said, “Oh. Wait.”

“Please God, don’t turn that into a no.”

“No—I mean yes.” Still wrapped around him, she managed a breathless laugh. “I mean, I need to text Mama. I told her I wouldn’t be long, and I’m going to be longer.”

“Okay. Text and walk.”

“I can do that.” She took out her phone, worked to keep her hands steady enough to write the quick text. “She knew I was coming to see you, so I don’t think she’ll be surprised to— She’s sure quick to answer.”

They’d made it inside, to the stairs, had started up. Shelby stopped halfway.

“Problem?”

“No. No, not a problem. She says—” Shelby let out another quick laugh. “She says you’ll follow me home, so why don’t I save you the trouble of that, stay the night here. Then she says—I guess you could say she knows me—don’t worry about Callie wondering where I am in the morning. We should get up early enough for me to bring you home for breakfast. She’ll make pancakes.”

“I like pancakes.”

“Yes, but—”

“Text: Thank you, Mama. We’ll see you in the morning.”

He nudged her up another step so they were eye level, then laid his lips on hers. “Stay. Sleep with me tonight. Wake up with me in the morning.”

How could she resist? Why would she? She trailed her fingers over his cheeks. “I wasn’t expecting to. I don’t have a thing to sleep in.”

“If that’s an issue, I won’t sleep in anything, either. We’ll be even.”

“That’s fair.” She laughed again, a little giddy, when he swept her up, carried her the rest of the way with the puppy running to catch up.