The Perfect Liar

by Brenda Novak

  He closed his eyes as if that might dispel the vision of her screeching obscenities at him. “I suppose some guys would say she’s pretty.”

  “What do you say?”

  “I can’t see it. Especially now.”

  His call-waiting beeped. Surprised, he sat up straight and held the handset away from him so he could check caller ID. It read Unknown.

  “I’d better go. I’m getting another call.”

  His father caught him before he could hang up. “How are you for money?”

  “I’m fine.”

  “The legal fees won’t be cheap. Not for something like this.”

  No kidding. Luke had already written a ten-thousand-dollar check—what his attorney required as a retainer. Fortunately, he earned a decent salary and his expenses were low. He had a nice car, a BMW M3, which felt like a jet on wheels. He had a hefty monthly payment for the pleasure of driving it, but most of what he made went into savings. “I’ll let you know if I need anything.”

  “Fight for your reputation, son,” his father said.

  Luke had every intention of fighting—for his freedom, as well as his reputation.

  After telling his folks goodbye, he switched to the other line. “Hello?”

  “Luke?”

  It was a man. “Yes?”

  “Pledge McCreedy.”

  His attorney. But why would McCreedy be calling him so late at night?

  A surge of hope shot through him. Maybe the case had been dropped. He hadn’t been violent, hadn’t harmed Kalyna in the slightest. He couldn’t believe she’d be vengeful enough to keep this going. “Tell me you have good news.”

  There was a brief hesitation. “The opposite, I’m afraid.”

  Luke braced himself. Was Kalyna pregnant? “What now?” he asked.

  “There’s a woman from The Last Stand—”

  “The Last What?” McCreedy hadn’t said “pregnant.” Yet. Luke jumped to his feet and began to pace in an effort to disperse some of the nervous energy pounding through him.

  “The Last Stand. It’s a victims’ charity in Sacramento. You haven’t heard of it?”

  “No.”

  “It’s run by three women who investigate various cases, retest evidence, offer counseling, self-defense classes and money for attorney’s fees—whatever they feel the victims who come to them might need.”

  This wasn’t what Luke had expected. He would’ve been relieved, except that his attorney seemed so concerned. “What does that mean to me?”

  “More than you might think. Sergeant Harter has enlisted their help. I just picked up the messages from my answering service. An Ava Bixby from The Last Stand has been trying to reach me.”

  “And?”

  “Let me put it this way. She could go to the media. Any exposure you get there would almost certainly work against you. These women are viewed as champions of the weak and afflicted, which would add to the appearance of guilt on your part. They could dedicate time and resources to helping the prosecution build its case. From what I’ve seen, they’re absolutely dogged once they have someone in their sights. They could even drag the local police into this, a possibility that brings the potential for a second trial.”

  Great. Kalyna winding up pregnant wasn’t the only way his situation could get worse. “How do we stop them from getting involved?”

  “I don’t know that we can.”

  “But I’m innocent.”

  He’d muttered those words to himself, but apparently Mr. McCreedy heard him. “All my clients are innocent, Captain Trussell.”

  Yeah, right. McCreedy believed Luke was innocent because he was being paid to believe it. He looked no further. And why would he? Not all his clients could be innocent. Believing any of them to be guilty as charged would risk a conflict of conscience. Provided he had a conscience. “What is it Kalyna Harter wants?” Luke asked. “My head on a platter?”

  “I don’t know, but if you can come up with her motivation, I’m all ears. We have to provide a plausible reason she’d lie—something we can prove—or we won’t have much of a case. It’ll be your word against hers, and all she has to do is break into tears to appear authentic.”

  “I don’t know why she hates me,” Luke said. “I didn’t stay as long as she wanted me to and it pissed her off. That’s all I can guess.” He also hadn’t been able to repeat to her what she’d said to him before he got out of bed. I love you…He’d assumed she was joking. They worked together, but there was no love involved. “So what can we do about Ava Bixby?” he asked.

  “Pray she runs low on funds and has to close her doors. Soon.”

  Luke shook his head. Now he had a victims’ charity after him, hoping to see him swing for a crime he didn’t commit. “Would it help if I talked to her?”

  “Definitely not! That’s why I’m calling. She may try to get in touch with you, but don’t speak to her. She’s on their side.”

  Luke massaged his left temple. He wanted to declare his innocence to anyone who’d listen, which made it difficult not to talk. But ever since base security had banged on his door, he’d found himself standing in a legal minefield. It was best to listen to someone who knew how to navigate it.

  Or he might not make it through.

  3

  “Ms. Harter, can you please state your full name?”

  Kalyna smiled calmly at the female lawyer, a major from the Office of Special Investigations, who’d been assigned to prosecute Luke Trussell. She’d spoken to Rani Ogitani on the phone a few times, but this was their first face-to-face meeting. The woman seemed brisk and efficient—emotionally distant but certainly capable.

  “Kalyna Boyka Harter.”

  Major Ogitani typed the date—Tuesday, June 30—and Kalyna’s name into her laptop, which rested on the large rectangular table filling most of the on-base conference room. “Thank you. And your birth date?”

  “May 18, 1983,” she said, going through the details as she had in an earlier meeting with Ava Bixby. Kalyna wished Ava could just send major Ogitani a copy of the whole account, but she knew it didn’t work that way. She had to explain it all again.

  The prosecutor shifted her attention from her computer screen. “So you’re twenty-six years old.”

  “That’s correct.”

  “And were you born in the United States?”

  “No, in Ukraine. My twin sister, Tati, and I were adopted by an American couple living in Phoenix when we were six-years-old. Their marriage fell apart shortly after—within months—and neither one of them wanted to keep us. So we were passed off to the neighbors.”

  “The neighbors.”

  “That’s right. A mortician and his wife.”

  The clacking of the keyboard again. Despite what Kalyna had told Ava Bixby at The Last Stand during their initial conference, Major Ogitani seemed eager to do a thorough job. But even with a competent prosecutor, it wouldn’t be easy to get a conviction against Captain Trussell. He had an impeccable service record, or so she’d been told since lodging her complaint.

  “This was done legally?”

  “Yes, but at first we were just foster kids.”

  “What precipitated the original adoption?”

  Kalyna set her jaw so she could talk about the past without flinching. “My real mother could no longer afford to feed us. She felt we’d have a better chance here.” In reality, Talia Kozak had wanted to be free to marry the man she’d fallen in love with, a man who refused to have anything to do with her two children, which he saw only as mouths to feed. Talia had gotten rid of them for him, and she’d done it in a way that made her some money on the deal. Kalyna had heard from her once, several weeks after she’d sent a letter pleading to come home. Her mother had said it was impossible, that her new husband would never allow it, and that was that. It was her second adoptive mother who’d mentioned the money the first couple had paid.

  The sympathy that flickered in Major Ogitani’s eyes both angered and relieved Kalyna. She understood
the relief. She needed to elicit sympathy, needed Major Ogitani of all people to believe her. The anger was more complicated.

  “I see,” the prosecutor said. “So…you were raised by this mortician and his wife in Phoenix from that time forward?”

  “Actually, we moved from Phoenix to Mesa in what would’ve been my eighth-grade year, if I’d been attending school.”

  “You didn’t go to school?” Major Ogitani seemed all business. Removed. Mechanical. But surprise leaked through her voice with this question.

  “I was home-schooled.”

  “What were the reasons behind that?”

  Control. And privacy. Her mother didn’t want any teachers or administrators nosing around, telling her what she could or couldn’t do. “My mother said she was afraid the other kids would be a bad influence.”

  “I see,” she said slowly. “So…did you have friends?”

  “Just my twin sister. We owned a mortuary on a fairly busy street, and we lived above it. It wasn’t as if there were other houses with children close by.”

  Ogitani didn’t approve. Kalyna could see that in her body language. “So your adoptive mother did the teaching?”

  “It was more like independent study, especially in the later grades. We met with a teacher once a week who checked our work and gave us new assignments.”

  “Did you like being home-schooled?”

  “I hated it.” But it kept her from sharing information with others, from socializing with them and inviting them into their home, which was what her mother had wanted. And as long as they met certain curriculum requirements, the state didn’t interfere.

  “Why?”

  “If you knew my mother, you’d understand.”

  Ogitani’s voice became brisk again, almost as if Kalyna was already on the witness stand. “So coming to America didn’t improve your situation.”

  Only if the major considered hell an improvement. “That depends on how you look at it.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “We had enough to eat. We had clothes to wear.”

  “But…”

  “It wasn’t an easy life. That’s why I joined the air force, to escape.” She remained purposely vague. Her story would be more credible and cause a stronger reaction if the information had to be pulled from her. She’d learned that from experience.

  “You felt the need to ‘escape’?” Ogitani rested her forearms on the table. “Why is that?”

  Kalyna purposely avoided her gaze. “My home life was…unusual.”

  The major leaned closer. “In what way?”

  “My sister and I were forced to work in the mortuary from the moment they took us in. I’ve had to handle more rotting corpses than most people have ever seen.”

  Lines appeared on the prosecutor’s smooth forehead. “You mean, when you got older and started taking part in the family business?”

  “No, I mean from the beginning. It was terrifying. Especially when I was younger, and Tati and I had to work alone.”

  Major Ogitani didn’t bother to record this information. She was too shocked. “You and your sister had to work with corpses when you were children? And there was no adult present?”

  It hadn’t happened as often as Kalyna was leading her to believe, but it’d happened occasionally, and the mental picture her words created hit with the intended impact. “Sometimes.”

  “Isn’t that illegal?”

  “That depends.”

  “On what?”

  “On what we admitted doing.”

  “Meaning…”

  “We had to wash the blood and embalming fluid off the tables and mop up the floor. You don’t need to be certified to clean up.” She could still remember the smell. She’d always remember the smell.

  The prosecutor grimaced. “Where were your adoptive parents?”

  “My father was usually at the morgue, picking up another body, or driving the hearse to the cemetery. Or maybe it was late and he’d gone to bed. My mother refused to work in the preparation area or what we called ‘the back end.’” That was why the Harters were willing to take over when the Robinsons didn’t want them anymore. They’d been attracted by the potential for slave labor, not the joy of raising children. And they didn’t want Kalyna and Tatiana to attend school and circulate in the community for fear they’d say too much about their situation, which might have brought attention and interference. Norma would never admit it, but Kalyna knew the truth.

  “You were sometimes up later than your father?” the major asked.

  “All the time. He’d get us out of bed, if necessary.”

  She rocked back. “That’s terrible! And this continued until…when?”

  “Until I joined the air force. But as we got older, we did hair and makeup on dead people, not just the cleanup. You don’t need to be certified for that, either.” Her sister was still stuck in Arizona, handling stiffs. They hadn’t even been permitted to apply for college. When Kalyna joined the military, she’d had to leave Tatiana behind. The air force wouldn’t take her sister. Tati had epilepsy. She was too timid, too fearful, to leave what was familiar to her, anyway.

  “How old were you when you entered the armed services?”

  “Eighteen.”

  “So you enlisted as soon as possible.”

  Feeling more confident by the minute, Kalyna nodded. She could convince anyone of anything. She didn’t have to worry.

  “Where’s your sister now?” the prosecutor asked.

  “Tati still lives with my parents.”

  Ogitani shook her head. “What a life.”

  Kalyna dropped her voice to a whisper. “I’m out of it now. That’s all that matters.”

  The prosecutor straightened her skirt. “Kalyna, I hate to ask you this, but…would you mind if we talked a bit about your background in court?”

  This was the most personable Ogitani had been. Maybe there was a human element to the android, after all, Kalyna thought wryly. Ava had struggled with her emotions, too, but Kalyna could tell she was a big softie. Too soft, which was why she’d tried to counteract the empathy she felt by maintaining some distance. “My background? Why? That doesn’t have anything to do with Captain Trussell.”

  “It might explain why you acted the way you did with him. And the more the jury feels they know you, the more they’ll invest in your life and challenges, and the better our chances of having them see the situation with Captain Trussell through your eyes.”

  “But I don’t like talking about the past.”

  “I think it will be extremely helpful.”

  She remained silent long enough to convince the major she was wrestling with the decision. “Okay,” she said at last. “If we have to.”

  “It might bring back some painful memories. I’ll apologize for that now.”

  “It’ll be okay.” Especially if it would help the case against Luke. He deserved to be punished. She wouldn’t be taken so lightly. By anyone.

  “Do you have any contact with your parents?”

  “Not much.” She hated all three sets—her American parents and her Ukrainian ones, including the father who’d run out on her real mother before she and her sister were born.

  “I can see why.” Major Ogitani made a few more notes. “Now, what happened on the night of June 6?” she asked, looking up again.

  Kalyna knotted her fingers in her lap. This was the tricky part. She had to be careful her story didn’t change from what she’d already told the police, and Ava Bixby, had to be sure any new details she offered created no inconsistencies. “I ran into Captain Luke Trussell at the Moby Dick.”

  “What time was it?”

  “About ten o’clock.”

  “Who were you with?”

  “I was alone.”

  “Do you typically go out alone, Ms. Harter?”

  When Kalyna glanced up, Major Ogitani made a placating motion. “I don’t mean any censure with that question. It’s just something we need to establish. Who was
there. Why you were there. How you connected with Captain Trussell.”

  Kalyna nodded. “I don’t go out alone very often,” she said, but that was probably the biggest lie she’d told yet. Now that she was no longer living with her sister, she did almost everything alone. Even when she was having sex she felt alone. Until Trussell…No one seemed to understand her or like her. But she knew it wouldn’t be considered “normal” to say she preferred her own company to anyone else’s, and she needed to appear as normal as possible.

  “I was assigned to the base only three months ago. You know how it is after a recent move.” She smiled as shyly as she could manage. “I needed a break from military life but I wasn’t acquainted with anyone well enough to call and ask them to go out with me.”

  “I completely understand.” Major Ogitani went back to her keyboard. “Had you been drinking, Kalyna?”

  “Not a lot—”

  The major interrupted by clearing her throat. “Actually, before you finish answering, let me rephrase that. If I went to the bartender and asked for a copy of your tab—which the defense will most likely do—what would it indicate?”

  “Two or three drinks.”

  “Wine? Beer?”

  “Jack Daniel’s and Coke.”

  “In a matter of how many hours?”

  “One.”

  Three JDs and Coke in one hour was no small amount of alcohol, but the major didn’t comment on it. “And Captain Trussell? Was he also drinking?”

  “Yes.”

  “How do you know?”

  Kalyna resisted the urge to claim he was drunk. She wanted to imply that he was more inebriated than she’d been, but the bar tab would show exactly what they’d both had. “He had a beer when I saw him.”

  “Where was he when you came in?”

  “At a pool table in back, playing a man I didn’t recognize.”

  Major Ogitani entered this information in her notes. “So you saw him and then what? Did he approach you?”

  “No, I walked over to say hello. I’ve been his crew chief for almost the entire time I’ve been here.” That gave her a lot of contact with him, but that contact didn’t stop at work. She’d copied his address from various papers she’d seen him fill out, had been to his place when he wasn’t home, even taken the spare key from under the mat and made herself a copy. She’d watched him—and followed him more than once. “I was feeling a bit displaced and lonely, so I was happy to see a familiar face.”