Sweet Liar

by Debra Doxer

  He shifted and pushed away from the door frame, that same look of resignation on his face. “I’m sorry, Candy. When my father gets back, we’ll talk.”

  “How do you do it?” I asked. “Pretend so well.”

  He looked down at the floor. “But I don’t pretend well. Do I? You figured me out, and you made your mind up about me pretty quick once you did.” His gaze came up to meet mine. “Like I said, you can talk to my father when he gets here.”

  Then he left the room, and I wondered at the pain I heard in his voice. I’d hurt his feelings? Wasn’t I entitled to question him and be furious with him since he’d been pretending from the first minute I met him?

  I supposed Jonah had as much reason to hate me as I did him. I was on the other side of this situation, aligned with his enemy, and I’d just shot his father. But I got the feeling Jonah was angrier that I no longer trusted him—which was crazy, because what did he expect? He was probably arrogant enough to think that the relationship he’d spent time building with me would pay off. Apparently he’d forgotten the fact that it was built on lies.

  Alone in my room now, I pushed the covers off too fast and winced when my head screamed in protest. I stilled until the pain dulled, and noticed I was still in my flannel pajamas.

  Had Jonah carried me in here and put me into bed? Had my father recovered enough to see me lying on the floor before they took him away? Was he worried about me? If I’d really fainted, I was ashamed of myself.

  As I rested my feet on the floor, I noted the ache in my hip and the pain that radiated up my back. Closing my eyes, I recalled how hard Jonah had taken me down earlier. I knew he was trying to save his father, but it still hurt to see how clearly the line had been drawn between his family and mine.

  Of course, the line had always been there. I just hadn’t seen it.

  I slipped out of bed and closed my bedroom door for privacy before I went into my closet, where I pulled out a pair of jeans and a sweater. There was no way I was meeting Jonah’s father in my pajamas. Just the thought of facing that man sent a chill up my spine.

  A meow in the corner caught my attention and I spotted Pumpkin, who was still sitting in the closet where I’d left him. I’d locked him in there when the alarm went off. I picked him up and held him close, stroking his fur as he purred against my shoulder.

  Pressure built behind my eyes, but I couldn’t let any tears fall. I kept wondering what my father would do if he were in my position. He most definitely wouldn’t cry, and he wouldn’t hide in his bedroom the way I was tempted to. He’d meet the situation head-on, and he’d listen more than he talked. I always noticed the way he stilled and listened closely the more intense things got.

  After I put Pumpkin down, I pulled on my clothes and ran my fingers through my hair. If I had to face Jonah and his father, I didn’t want to look like I’d just rolled out of bed. I needed to appear calm, to seem strong and confident, even though I didn’t feel that way at all.

  When I glanced in the mirror, I hardly recognized the girl staring back at me. She looked like she was struggling, as if she could cry at the drop of a hat.

  Briefly, I closed my eyes and stood there as I thought about my mother, silently asking her for help. I missed her so much in this moment that I ached with it. She was so strong, and I needed that strength now more than I ever had before.

  There was no answer, though. There never was, but thinking about her had slowed my racing pulse. After a few deep breaths, I worked up my courage and pulled open my bedroom door.

  The fact was I was thirsty, and so I decided to get a soda out of the refrigerator like I would do on any other night. As I passed through the hallway, I saw Jonah from the corner of my eye. His hands were still shoved deep in his pockets as he faced the window, looking out at the street. Since it was dark outside and all the lights were on in the living room, I wondered if he could see anything other than his own reflection.

  I didn’t stop until I stood in front of the refrigerator, and then pulled it open to reach inside for a cold can of soda. Before I closed the door, I grabbed a second one because I felt like doing the unexpected, offer Jonah a drink as if he were a welcome guest. That was sure to throw him. Would he even take it?

  With my nerves thrumming, I walked into the living room. At the sound of my footsteps, Jonah turned and watched my approach. When I reached him, I held out the extra soda can.

  “Thanks,” he said, knitting his brows together before slowly taking the can.

  I shrugged and popped my drink open before taking a small sip. But he only held his and turned toward the window again. He’d meant it, I supposed, when he told me he wouldn’t say anything more. It was up to me to start a conversation and try to find out what I could.

  “So, how much trouble am I in?”

  His gaze flicked to mine. “Why would you be in trouble?”

  I worked hard not to roll my eyes. “Oh, I don’t know. Maybe because I shot someone?”

  He smiled to himself before turning away again. “I told you. You only grazed him. He’s done worse to himself shaving.”

  My eyes narrowed. Jonah’s dismissive attitude was meant to be insulting, and it was. As if it was outrageous of me to think I could aim a gun and hit a target. His tone said I might as well have been a kid with a slingshot. Of course, arguing that I’d meant to kill his father—and might have pulled it off if Jonah hadn’t stopped me—probably wasn’t the best idea.

  “So, that’s it?” I asked. “He’s not going to tell anyone?”

  Jonah sighed and looked at me. “The less said about it, the better.” His lips pressed together at my obvious confusion. “He thinks it was my fault, okay? That you only intended to threaten him, and my stopping you made the gun go off.”

  I squinted. “Why would he think that?”

  “Because that’s what I told him.” Jonah’s eyes stayed on me, gauging my reaction like he’d done so many times tonight.

  My mouth dropped open a little. Why had he told his father that? “What if you’d told him the truth?”

  Jonah shrugged. “Then you might be in some trouble.”

  I swallowed. He’d lied to protect me? “What I did wasn’t wrong. You didn’t have to lie. He broke into our house and he was going to kill my father. I had the right to stop him.”

  His head moved from side to side before I’d even finished. “He wasn’t.”

  “He wasn’t what?”

  “Going to kill anyone.”

  I scowled at his lie. “Yes, he was. I was there, remember?”

  “Whose gun do you think it was, Candy?” he demanded. “My father didn’t come here with a weapon.”

  My eyes widened. Everything had been so intense, I hadn’t thought about that.

  Jonah turned to face me fully. “It’s time to open your eyes, Candy. Your father is a criminal. He’s known for a long time that his freedom was coming to an end. He should have prepared you for this possibility. He shouldn’t have tried to run, and he definitely shouldn’t have tried to take you with him.”

  “You’ve known it too, then.”

  That gave him pause. “I know you don’t believe me, but I wish I could’ve been honest with you.”

  As I gripped the cold can of soda in my hand, I was about to tell him he was right, I didn’t believe him, when we both heard a car door close outside. A moment later, there was a bang at the door just as Jonah walked toward it.

  When the door opened, his father stood outside.

  My body tensed and my stomach rioted. I’d only caught a couple of glimpses of Jonah’s father before, but there was something about him that felt malevolent. Even before he turned his nearly black eyes on me, I felt it. Jonah had called my father a criminal, but this man was a criminal too if he worked for the same people my father did. They were all operating outside the law. They all had dark sides.

  My father wore his loosely, but this man embraced the darkness, and I wasn’t the only one who felt it. Jonah’s entire deme
anor changed when his father walked in. His shoulders tensed while his eyes came alive, looking both alert and on guard. His father put him on edge. I could feel how tightly coiled Jonah was from where I stood across the room.

  Looking at them next to each other, I noticed that Jonah bore only a slight resemblance to his father. They had the same thick wavy hair, although his father’s was graying and longer.

  While they were both tall and broad, Jonah wasn’t nearly as big. He was a refined version of his father. His features were less severe. His eyes and skin were lighter. They both possessed strong chiseled jaws, aquiline noses, and high foreheads, but on Jonah it was handsome. His father looked like an exaggerated version of him.

  Since I’d met Jonah, he’d told me things to make me believe we had a lot in common, but he’d left out the biggest part. Our fathers were both spies, operatives of some kind, and we both wanted to follow in their footsteps. Although Jonah already was.

  “Is she okay?” Jonah’s father asked him in a low, gravelly voice, even though he was looking right at me.

  Jonah nodded. “She wants to know what her father did wrong.”

  “I’m sure she does.”

  Jonah’s father turned to close the door and winced slightly, holding his side. My heart knocked harder inside my chest as I watched him move in my direction.

  “It’s time she knew,” he said, stopping in front of me, so close that I had to tilt my head back to see his face. “Sit down.” He gestured to the couch.

  When I didn’t move, Jonah touched my arm. “Sit down, Candy.”

  I blinked, realizing I hadn’t moved at all. When I finally sat down, Jonah did too.

  Jonah’s father didn’t sit. Instead he watched us, his gaze moving between us in a knowing way that made me uncomfortable.

  “You like my son,” he said simply, a smile playing on his lips. “You two make a nice couple.”

  “Stop it,” Jonah said, his voice harsh and clipped.

  His father eyed him with amusement, seeming to like the reaction he’d gotten. But his grin disappeared when he looked back at me. “Do you have any idea what I’m about to tell you?” he asked.

  I glanced at Jonah before I shook my head.

  Then Jonah’s father put it bluntly, delivering the words like he enjoyed saying them. “Your father’s a traitor. He sold classified information to a foreign government. China, specifically, and maybe others.”

  Traitor? For some reason, I wanted to smile. It was ridiculous.

  “It’s true,” Jonah said, reading my reaction. “A former contact of his is talking to us. We know it’s been going on for years.”

  “Why would he do that?” I asked, wondering how Jonah could sound so sure.

  “We don’t know,” Jonah replied. “We don’t think he accepted money for it, or if he did, we can’t find it.”

  They watched me as my gaze traveled between them while I tried to make sense of what they’d said. But it made no sense. My father was the least greedy person I knew.

  If it was true, I had no idea why he would have done it or what he would have gotten in return. Was it money? That thought had occurred to me when I first suspected my father was in trouble, but we didn’t live extravagantly, and I had no idea how much my father earned or whether it was enough to pay for the things we had.

  “What he got in return doesn’t matter,” Jonah’s father said. “We need to know what information he gave them. In addition to there being no money trail, there’s no electronic trail either. It was all passed by hand either on paper or external computer drives. If your father kept copies, we need to find them.”

  “If there’s no trail, then you have no proof,” I said.

  As they both looked at me, an image of the safe I’d seen in my father’s closet flashed in my head, but that safe was gone now. I had no idea where it went or what was in it.

  “We have enough to hold him. We don’t need proof for that.”

  I narrowed my eyes at the man. “He wouldn’t keep anything that proved what you’re saying here. But you know that. You’ve already searched the house.”

  Jonah’s father nodded, his impatience clear. “We have to search again.”

  He stood up and waved to someone outside the front door. A moment later, two men dressed in jeans and T-shirts came inside. They greeted him as Victor.

  Victor. Its hard, formal sound suited him. And he’d called Jonah “Jonah,” not Cooper.

  On his order, the two strangers invaded my house, moving in different directions.

  “Is this legal?” I asked. “Can you just walk in here and do this?”

  Everyone except Jonah ignored me. “Stay with me,” he said softly.

  While I watched, his father roughly pulled open the drawers of the dining room buffet, and I stood up with my hands clenched by my sides. I wanted to stop them, to tell them they had no right to do this, but what good would it do?

  “He called you Jonah,” I said quietly as I stood beside him. “The license I found said your name is Cooper.”

  A brief smile turned his lips. “My middle name is Jonah. That’s what I’ve always gone by. Only my mother called me Cooper.” He touched my arm and held out his hand. “Come on. You don’t need to watch this.”

  I looked down at his hand like it might bite me, even though a part of me wanted to take it. It made no sense, but I felt safer with Jonah than without him.

  When I didn’t accept his hand, he shrugged and started for the garage on his own. I followed silently behind him, wincing at the noise of strangers going through our things.

  When we passed the hallway, I bent down and made soft kissing sounds. A moment later, Pumpkin came trotting out of the bedroom. I lifted him up, intending to take him with us rather than leaving them here with them. I knew he was stressed when he didn’t immediately purr in my arms.

  Jonah looked at me as I ran my hand over Pumpkin’s back. “What’s its name?” he asked.

  “His name is Pumpkin.”

  “I didn’t know you could train cats to come to you.”

  “I didn’t train him. When I first saw him at the shelter, he came right to me like he knew he was going to be mine.”

  Jonah smiled. “I can relate.”

  When my gaze shot to his, he looked away and kept walking. I bit my lip at the way his comment stirred my emotions.

  “This door leads to the garage?” he asked at the end of the hallway.

  My brow arched, and he shook his head at my silent insinuation. “My father’s been here. Not me. I’ve only been in the living room and the kitchen. With you.”

  I remained skeptical of every word that came out of his mouth, but I nodded as if I believed he was sincere.

  When he walked inside, he paused and looked around. Then he laughed softly. “This is the neatest garage I’ve ever seen. And it’s heated. Did your father put heat in for you? For your hands?”

  I shrugged as I brushed past him and went to the folded lawn chairs in the corner. My father probably installed heat in the garage for my mother, but I wasn’t going to tell him that. After putting Pumpkin down, I unfolded a chair and set it on the concrete floor before lowering myself onto it. Once I was seated, Pumpkin jumped onto my lap.

  Jonah was still standing just inside the door, watching me with an inscrutable expression. “Any suggestions on where to start?”

  I snorted out a laugh. “You really think I’m going to help you?”

  “Nope, but it was worth a shot.” He smirked and walked over to my father’s work table, empty except for a toolbox and a tire pressure gauge.

  “You’re taking this pretty well,” he said, glancing at me over his shoulder.

  I snorted out another laugh and he turned, his eyes sharpening on me. I wasn’t taking this well at all. In fact, I felt a little insane at the moment, forcing myself to sit still while leftover adrenaline pumped through my body, and I used all my self-control not to scream.

  After looking at the workbench, Jonah
moved on to a set of cabinets on the wall. Those were empty. My mother had used them as an extra pantry for canned goods, and the cans were long gone.

  Absently, Jonah pulled open the doors, stared at the empty shelves, and closed them again. As he meandered through the garage, it felt less like he was seriously searching for something and more like he was distracting himself and me while the others worked inside.

  As my eyes followed him, I kept thinking that none of this felt real. I was never supposed to see Jonah again. I’d accepted that fact, not grudgingly but thankfully, because it meant I’d never have to face him or the lies he’d told. Lies I believed. Now that I was here with him, I couldn’t help thinking of each one, sifting through every past conversation for clues or hints, but there were none. He was too good a liar.

  Looking down at the Band-Aids on my fingertips, I recalled how adamantly he’d denied locking me in the freezer at the diner. It was one of the many things he’d said in the school hallway yesterday, including the revelation that he’d fought his feelings for me until he couldn’t fight them anymore.

  “I already feel like you’re mine. All I want to do is take care of you.”

  Yeah, right.

  “I can see the questions in your eyes,” he said, surprising me as he watched me from across the garage. “Go ahead and ask them.” Jonah walked toward my chair and stopped in front of me.

  Sitting up straighter, I tilted my head to look up at him. “You told me I should talk to your father, that you weren’t going to say anything else.”

  He sighed, pushing his hands into his pockets. It was a move he was doing a lot tonight, even though I’d never seen him do it before. “I was angry when I said that.”

  “Angry at me?”

  “You don’t trust me, Candy.”

  When I opened my mouth to say something sarcastic, he held a hand up to stop me. “Yeah. I know. You’re justified. But I thought . . .” He shook his head. “It doesn’t matter what I thought.”

  Maybe it didn’t matter, but I was curious as to how he’d rationalized all he’d done. “Jonah, I don’t trust you because you lied to me.”