Liar, Liar

by Winter Austin

  “Come with me.” The doctor summoned.

  The entire group followed him into an empty exam room. Shane sank into one of the chairs. Breathing easier, he let his body relax into the uncomfortable seat. In no way was he ever going to tell anyone how taxed he’d become just walking into the blasted building.

  “This will make my explanation quick and easy,” Drummond started. “I will do the autopsy on Pamela later, but I did a thorough exam of her.” He sighed. “I can’t determine what actually killed her yet, but her body is showing all the signs of poisoning. Once the lab tests have been run, we’ll be able to determine what it was exactly.”

  “If it matches anything you found in her husband or Gene Avery, tell me immediately,” Con said.

  “Whoa, hold your horses, O’Hanlon. Those are my cases.”

  Con gestured like a grand duke. “By all means, be my guest, Sheriff.”

  “Aren’t we all testy,” Drummond said.

  From the corner of Shane’s eyes, he caught Liza crossing her arms and passing an ugly look his way. Testy was putting it lightly.

  “What you’ll find most interesting, Sheriff, is that Pamela had a wound on her right arm. Until I can inspect it, my initial assessment is the wound is from a bullet. She might be the one who shot you.”

  A deathly hush fell over the group.

  “Damn it to hell,” Shane barked. “These murders are a convoluted mess.”

  Chapter Twenty-six

  Air, she needed air. Shane was right. He wasn’t the only one who couldn’t make heads or tails of any of it. Liza exited the hospital, striding across the parking lot straight for her car. Distance from the people in that hospital was her saving grace at this moment.

  Stinging from Shane’s rebuke—God, did he have to snap at her like that?—she braced her hands on the trunk and bent over the car. With the strength born of necessity she’d held her tongue. A miracle considering how badly she’d wanted to let loose with both barrels. That man infuriated and intrigued her, and it turned her mind into a tangled web of yarn where there was no beginning nor end in sight. Closing her eyes, she sucked air like a drowning woman.

  This had to be a reality check for her. She’d been getting too comfortable with him, thinking of things that were impossible. For God’s sake, she barely knew the man. There was no reason, none, to be getting crazy ideas in her head. He had more baggage than a Boeing 737. That kind of crap was the last thing she wanted in her already loaded life.

  Liza lifted her head and stared at the darkened world around her. Checking the time, she stiffened. “Oh, crap.”

  Scrambling to the passenger side, she yanked open the door and dug through the scattered mess of reports and files until she found the card. “Damn.” Like a frantic teenager, she tapped in the number and waited for the other line to pick up.

  “This is Neil.”

  “Mr. Lundy, I apologize for missing our meeting. We had a crisis, and I’m still dealing with the fallout.”

  Silence met her entreaty. Oh joy, he was going to be an ass about this.

  “I heard about the Frosts’ home burning. I’ll assume that is the crisis of which you speak.”

  Okay, maybe this wouldn’t be so bad. “You would assume correctly.” As long as that’s all people knew about. “Is it too late to try this again?”

  Lundy sighed. “I believe this situation we are meeting about is worth the time it takes. Would you care to meet me at my home instead of the sheriff’s department?”

  She screwed up her face in a grimace. Another place to find, and in the dark. Siri, please don’t fail me. Swallowing the log in her throat, Liza said, “That would be fine.”

  He gave her his address, and they ended their call. She was about to tell Siri the address when the phone beeped. She’d missed a call. Ugh! From Montrose.

  “Ma’am, I’m sorry I missed your call. I was on the line with a person of interest.”

  “I don’t care. What I want to know is why I’m getting nasty phone calls from Kurt Bartholomew.”

  The blood drained from Liza’s body. “He didn’t.”

  “Your brother is about to find himself face to face with me if he calls here one more time demanding to know where you are and to bring you home. Bartholomew, family interference isn’t tolerated under my command.”

  “I’m aware of that, ma’am, and I’ve explained that to him countless times. I’m sorry he’s been—”

  “Stop apologizing. When you took the oath of this office, you swore that your duties came above all else, even family. Either you put an end to this, or I will.”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  “Since I have your undivided attention, update me on the process of this case.”

  “It’s not good. There have been two more deaths since we last spoke.”

  “What the hell?”

  Liza had this sudden urge to curl inside of herself and just let the world pass on by.

  “Bartholomew, do these deaths have anything to do with your case?”

  “I’m beginning to think so. I have yet to connect the pieces outside of some weird instances, but it’s there, I can sense it.”

  Montrose hmphed. “I want solid proof, not weird instances. Send me a report, tonight, on everything that’s happened. Give me the evidence or you’re done. Copy?”

  “Copy.”

  And that was the end of that conversation.

  With a sad shake of her head, Liza shoved her mess into a pile and closed the door. Exhaustion and hunger dragged on her bones. She’d been running on adrenaline all day, and the crash was about to come. The urge to let loose with a string of nasty words tickled her tongue. No, she would not stoop to that level. She was a professional.

  “Liza.”

  She jolted badly enough to bang her knee into the car. “Ow! Damn it, Shane. Don’t sneak up on me like that.”

  “I wasn’t sneaking . . . never mind.”

  Rubbing her throbbing knee, she scowled at him, not even sure he could see her face in the dark. “What?”

  He stood there, his body contorted to relieve the pressure on his wounded side.

  Have some compassion for the man. He was shot, and he learned that the possible shooter was a woman who just died. Yeah, not gonna happen. Liza was seconds away from a full-on brain shutdown, and her patience was being pushed to the limits. Not a good thing to have hanging over her head when she went to meet with Neil Lundy.

  Shane cleared his throat. “Are you leaving?”

  “Yes. I’m a few hours late for my meeting with Lundy. I need to go.” She turned to leave.

  “I’m coming with you.”

  Like a whip crack, she rounded on him. “No. You’re going back home and giving that wound a break.”

  “Liza.”

  “Don’t Liza me. I’m tired, I’m cranky, and I haven’t had any food since that Pop-Tart this morning. I’ve got my SAC breathing down my neck and making threats she’s capable of carrying out. And let’s not forget to mention my asshat brother who is taking his asshattery to a whole new level.” She jabbed a finger Shane’s way. “Then there’s you.” She sliced the air with her hand. “I’m doing this alone.” With that, she circled the car and got in, slamming the door to finalize her tirade.

  To punctuate her ire, she revved the engine and then drove the car forward through the open slot in front of her. Let him stew in his pot. He started this, and like hell she was going to let him finish it.

  Gripping the steering wheel, she glared out the windshield. “Siri, take me to 300 Robin Lane.”

  “Okay.”

  • • •

  Liza was starting to think anyone who lived in a fancy house in this county was bound to have it burn down around their ears. She studied the monstrosity that was the Lundy home and found it lacking.

  “Compensate much?” she muttered as she stalked up the walk.

  Blowing at a disobedient coil, she caught a whiff of herself and grimaced. Oh, who gave two shits? Lundy wa
s just going to have to deal. She punched the doorbell, backing up to the side. Ah, what the hell, why not? She rested her hand on her gun butt and waited.

  I’m comin’ atcha with a whole lotta attitude, man.

  Lundy opened the door, wearing the same business casual khakis and polo he’d had on earlier today. The only change were the house slippers instead of loafers. He gave her the once over, and then stepped back to allow her entry.

  “My wife has retired for the night, Agent. We’ll take this into my office.”

  “Actually, Mr. Lundy, I’d prefer to conduct this in a less private setting. Here or your living room will do.”

  “If you insist.” He led her into a large room that was just off the entryway. “If you would, please don’t sit on the upholstery.”

  “Didn’t plan on it.” Liza hooked her hands on her hips, shifting her legs for a comfortable stance. “I refrained from embarrassing you in front of your fellow school board members today. Now I don’t care. Would you care to explain to me why you were questioning Roslin Avery about her husband’s supposed activities?”

  Red tinged the man’s features. “I would say that’s my job as the school board president. If there’s suspicion of wrong doing, I’m well within my rights to question who I feel might have knowledge of such activities.”

  “Wrong. When there is a federal or state investigation going on, you are to stay out of it. The damage you could have done to my case puts me in a serious bind, Mr. Lundy.”

  “I don’t see how it could. Roslin had no prior knowledge of what her husband was doing. Or so she claimed.”

  Restraint, Liza. To keep from crossing the floor to throttle the man, she tucked her hands under her arms and screwed on the meanest glare possible.

  “Let me put it this way. If I catch you meddling in my investigation again, I will have you arrested for obstruction. As of now, you get a pass, considering the fact that you were ignorant in proper procedure.”

  He turned pale at her warning. “Duly noted.” Crossing his arms over his chest, his gaze flicking all about the room to avoid hers, he sighed. “Is there anything else you needed to discuss with me?”

  “Who else have you bothered with your questioning?”

  “No one, I swear.”

  Liza studied him, hoping her scrutiny made him hop like a flea under the scope. Actually, that was about the best description of the man she could come up with; a flea. A little bloodsucker.

  The doorbell pealed.

  Cocking her body about, Liza peered back at the entry. “Were you expecting someone else tonight?”

  “No.”

  An adrenaline dump hit her like a tank dropped from a C130. When Lundy took a step, she reached out and clamped down on his arm, dragging him back. “Don’t.”

  He scowled at her hand on his arm. “Agent, I don’t see—”

  She held a finger in front of his nose. “If you resist me, I’ll put you on the floor and cuff you. I’ve seen one too many people die in this county in the last thirty-two hours.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  The doorbell echoed through the house once more.

  Propelling the man into a corner of the living room, she pushed her finger into his chest. “Stay put.” She surveyed the room. Damn it, she was too freaking tired. She’d slipped and hadn’t scoped her escape routes.

  Large windows covering the south-facing wall were blocked by heavy darkening curtains. Good, no one would be seeing in that way. There was one other exit from the room. Liza strode over and poked her head around the corner. Hallway, one open entry, one, two, three doors, stairs, and a curve in the hall leading back to the entryway. Okay, access points noted. She returned to Lundy, finding the man had actually listened to her orders.

  “Go upstairs, make sure your wife is okay, and call 911.”

  “Agent—”

  “Boy, you question my authority again, I’ll slap you.”

  With a wobbled nod, Lundy went through the living room and through the hallway. She followed him, making sure he went upstairs. Once he was out of sight, she hurried to the back of the house, popping into the kitchen. No exit here, but there was a door. Liza tried it and discovered the entrance to the basement. Using the flashlight app on her phone—damn, she needed the flashlight that was in her car—she crept down the carpeted steps. The weak light of her phone showed a finished basement resplendent with a man cave and a . . . tanning bed. Geesh. Explained the man’s perpetual tan. Slinking through the dark, Liza spotted the exit.

  She hurried over and breathed a sigh of relief when she found the door locked. After the way the Frost home went up in flames, there was no way she was going to chance another house burning.

  She was about to return upstairs when a scuffing at the door made her freeze. Crouching down, she leaned against the wall. A splash of liquid against the door made her jerk back. The vapors hit her hard. Diesel fuel.

  Oh no you don’t.

  Sliding her gun free of its holster, Liza went upright, flipped the dead bolt, and flung open the door. “FBI!”

  The figure was too many yards out, drizzling the fuel on the ground. Startled, the person dropped the canister and took off at a sprint.

  “Shit!” Liza bolted after. This one was not getting away.

  Emulating Florence Griffith Joyner, Liza kicked on the speed and cut the distance between her and the fleeing suspect. She was close, ready to tackle.

  Ka-Boom!

  Liza tripped and slammed into the ground, skidding to a halt, eating grass and dirt. She managed to spot the backside of the culprit as they vanished behind another house. Spitting her vegetarian dish, she rolled, coughing and sputtering. A ball of black smoke rose into the night sky, a huge bright glow coming from the front side of the Lundy house.

  Clambering to her feet, she pushed past the pain of her fall and ran to the front side of the home.

  “No!”

  Her car was a roiling inferno, belching black smoke. It was gone. All of that evidence, new and old, gone. Her chance for finally putting a cap on the Ripley case right along with it.

  There was no coming back from this.

  Chapter Twenty-seven

  Shane was out of the truck before it came to a complete stop. As much as his agonized body would allow, he stormed over to the woman arguing with the fire chief.

  “Liza!”

  She whipped around. In the two seconds it took to close the distance between them, he noted the shocked look on her face. He grabbed her and planted a kiss on her the likes of which no one in this damnable county had ever seen. She stiffened. When he drew back, she blinked in confusion.

  “Don’t ever do that to me again,” he whispered.

  Liza’s mouth dropped open, then she shut it with a click of her teeth. Wiggling out of his hold, she took a step away from him. “Excuse me, Sheriff.” She put her back to him and walked off.

  “Ouch,” Con said next to him.

  Ignoring his friend, Shane took in the smoldering remains of Liza’s car. The fire department was dousing the blackened shell and the charred remains of the Lundys’ garage. Neil Lundy, with his arm draped around his wife, was deep in conversation with the police chief. Just what Shane didn’t need—another encounter with the chief.

  “Stay here,” Con said, and then he went over to his boss.

  Feeling as useless as a bag of rusted nails, Shane’s gaze met the fire chief’s. “Jim.”

  “Sheriff.” Jim nodded.

  In the light of the fire trucks, you couldn’t miss the bemused grin on the man’s face. “Got something on your mind, Jim?”

  He shook his head. “Nope, Sheriff, not a thing.” And like that, Jim returned to barking orders at his men.

  Shane found Liza sitting on the curb, far from the miles of hose and bustle of the crews. Her head was buried in her hands, and she was hunched over. The world had certainly beaten the hell out of her today.

  And he hadn’t made it any easier kissing her like
a man possessed. It didn’t help that when he heard about her car, he’d feared she was dead. It brought back all those horrid memories of the accident that took Cheyenne and Trigger. His fight with Trigger had led to his friend leaving with his fiancée. During a downpour, and drunker than a skunk, Trigger tore out of that honky-tonk parking lot, hell-bent on getting as far from Shane as he could. They didn’t make it far.

  Less than five miles down the road, the truck hydroplaned and flipped right into the path of an oncoming eighteen-wheeler.

  All of those memories. The fight, Cheyenne’s anger, her leaving with Trigger, their deaths—it all crashed over Shane. And Liza had come close to a near repeat.

  Sick to his stomach, he turned his back on her. This was the reason he never got close to another woman. Death had a way of creeping up on him and stealing what he wanted. He’d sworn he wouldn’t put his heart through it ever again.

  And all that had gone to hell in a handbasket.

  A hand on his arm startled him. Liza stood in front of him, her head bent.

  “Shane, I’m sorry.” She looked up at him. “Would you take me to your house, please?”

  He took hold of her hands. “Yes.”

  She wrapped her arms around his waist, careful to not disturb his wounded side, and lay on his chest. She buried her face in his neck and stayed there. Once the shock wore off, he covered her in his own embrace and settled his chin on her springy hair.

  He was too late for recrimination.

  Chapter Twenty-eight

  Shane rose at his normal time and fed his horses, spending time with them to absorb their strength and calm. Returning to the house after a stroll along the perimeter, he gave himself a sink bath and then dressed in his uniform shirt and loose fitting jeans. On his way to the kitchen, he peeked in on Liza.

  Curled in a ball, hugging the extra pillow, her hair a wild mess, she slept on. Last night, she had staggered into his home, showered, put on the smallest set of shorts and a t-shirt he could find for her, and crashed in the guest room. He’d left her alone, but he hadn’t missed the sobs coming from the bathroom while she showered.

  Her phone had gone off twice before she turned it off and disappeared into the bedroom. If Shane had to take a guess, it was Montrose checking on her. And that was not a conversation Liza was up for.