The Perfect Liar

by Brenda Novak

  “You’ll still get in trouble!”

  “I’ll get an Article 15 for being absent without leave.” And, if possible, she’d figure a way out of that.

  “What’s an Article 15?” Tati said.

  “In this case, most likely a forfeiture of pay, but it can be other things.”

  “Like what?”

  “Like a reduction in my rank. But that’s not going to happen. It’s a few days. No big deal. And it’s my first infraction.” For being absent without leave. She also had an Article 15 for failing to obey an order to report in before departing work, but that was because her superior officer hated her and went after anything he could.

  “Why risk it? Why not stay if you’re supposed to stay?”

  “Don’t worry about it. I’ll take care of it.” She scowled. “What’s your problem, anyway?”

  Tati blinked. “I don’t know what you mean.”

  “You’re acting like Mom and Dad. And you look like hell. Why’d you let yourself gain so much weight?”

  Her sister winced. “I haven’t gained that much.”

  “Yes, you have. You’re frumpy. It’s disgusting. And your hair!” Her twin’s appearance was like gazing into a mirror and seeing the worst possible version of herself. She couldn’t imagine Captain Trussell ever being attracted to a woman who looked like Tatiana.

  But we’re not the same. Kalyna tanned, weight trained and ran. She had her nails done every week. She was assertive and friendly, not shy and unassuming. And she no longer smelled like formaldehyde. Maybe she wasn’t as attractive as she’d always dreamed of being; she had to deal with her own limitations. But very few men turned her down. She knew how to make the most of what she had. After weeks of fantasizing about him, she’d gotten Captain Trussell, hadn’t she?

  “Did they catch the guy who raped you?” Tatiana asked, changing the subject.

  “They did. They’re bringing him up on charges. We’ll be going to court soon.”

  Suddenly acting self-conscious about her appearance, Tati tugged her skirt down so it covered more of her. “You’re not afraid to testify?”

  “Not in the least. I’m looking forward to it.”

  “What if he gets out and comes after you?”

  Kalyna examined her recent manicure. “He won’t.”

  “How can you be so sure?”

  Because Luke wasn’t violent, the way she’d claimed. He was one of the most honorable men she’d ever met, and by far the best pilot. “I know how to protect myself.”

  Tati didn’t state the obvious—that she hadn’t done a very good job of it so far if she’d been beaten and raped. “How’d it happen?”

  Kalyna was tired of telling the story, tired of worrying about how she was coming across. Her sister already doubted her, so she preferred not to discuss it anymore. “I don’t want to talk about it.” Kalyna shrugged. “It happened, and I’m dealing with it. That’s all.”

  Tati made no comment.

  “So what have you been doing around here?” Kalyna asked.

  Her sister jerked her head toward the back, where they did the embalming. “Guess.”

  “God, I’m so glad to be out of here. You should’ve come with me. California’s amazing!”

  Tatiana shifted her gaze to the flowered rug covering the hardwood floor. “You know the military won’t take me.”

  “You could’ve gotten a job, lived with me.”

  “A job doing what?” her sister countered.

  “Anything! Maybe you wouldn’t have been surrounded by men who are all in great physical shape the way I am, but it’d be better than working like a slave for Mom and Dad. They’re using you. That’s all they’ve ever done. You’re wasting your life.”

  “I’m not wasting my life! Dad needs my help.” She stood as if the mention of Dewayne made it impossible to continue disobeying his orders by sitting on the antique chair. “He can’t run this business by himself. And I’ll be compensated. When he retires, I’ll take over. He told me that.”

  “That could be twenty years, Tati. Do you plan to scrub stiffs for the next two decades? And what if he dies before Mom? How will you put up with the old bitch?”

  “She’s not a…a bitch. Anyway, I’ll cross that bridge when I come to it.”

  Thinking she heard a car pull up, Kalyna checked the driveway, but they were still alone. “Don’t you want to get out of this place, meet a man, have sex?” she asked.

  Her sister’s cheeks flamed bright red. “I’d like to fall in love and start a family, but—”

  “Ugh! You’re such a loser. You can’t sit back and wait for Prince Charming to sweep you off your feet. Since when has anything we’ve ever wanted come to us? You have to go out and get it.”

  “And be raped, like you?”

  Tati was finally showing some spirit, but Kalyna couldn’t allow her sister to think the decision to leave had been a bad one, couldn’t have her gloating that she’d been wiser to stay. “If you could see the guy who raped me, you’d stand in line to be with him,” she said with a taunting smile. “He’s the most gorgeous man I’ve ever seen. And it wasn’t as if I didn’t have fun.”

  “Fun!” Tati’s jaw sagged. “You said he beat you!”

  Kalyna assumed a long-suffering manner. “You don’t understand what it was like.”

  “Explain it to me.”

  “You wouldn’t understand even if I tried. You don’t know squat about life or love. So just drop it, okay?” She got up. If her sister was so damn nervous about sitting in the “parlor,” they might as well go. “You’ve changed,” Kalyna said with a frown.

  “No, I haven’t.”

  “Yes, you have. You take the joy out of everything.”

  Tati stiffened. “You’d rather be somewhere else, getting raped?”

  “Don’t knock it till you’ve tried it,” she muttered. But she didn’t want to think about the intimacy she’d shared with Luke. Recalling those special moments made her want to be close to him again, to see him and touch him and smell him. That yearning caused her to wonder how he would’ve treated her if she hadn’t reacted so hastily. Would he have called?

  No, she couldn’t have risked it. She had to go after what she wanted, just as she’d told Tatiana. “What’s there to eat?” she asked. “I’m starving.”

  Her sister gave her an incredulous look. “Sometimes I don’t understand you at all.”

  Kalyna would’ve laughed it off, but the noise of a car brought her up short. Her parents were home.

  Hearing the engine, Tati fell silent, waiting anxiously. “What are you going to tell them?” she asked at length.

  “The truth,” Kalyna said, and forced a smile as her mother charged into the house.

  “What are you doing here?” Norma demanded.

  Kalyna raised her chin. “What, I can’t come home?”

  Her father entered behind her mother and spoke before Norma could respond. “What’d you do?” he asked.

  “What are you talking about? I didn’t do anything,” Kalyna said.

  His labored breathing told Kalyna he’d seen her car and moved faster than normal to get inside the house. “Why’d they kick you out?”

  “They didn’t kick me out!”

  “Thank God.” Her mother sank into the seat she’d just vacated. “So when are you going back?”

  8

  Ava stood at the railing of her houseboat, gazing at the sinking sun, which resembled a giant red fireball sitting on the water. Uncontained brushfires—seven hundred of them—raged all over California. They weren’t close, but they still made the air acrid and hazy, which probably explained the unusual color of the sun. Ava had never seen it quite so red before.

  We need rain, she mused. This time of year, Sacramento had little chance of getting any moisture—April through October were dry months—but at least the gentle delta breezes cooled the area, especially in late evening. She hated how hot it was without them.

  A bird swooped low, bar
ely skimming the surface of the water. Ava watched it dip, twirl and pull out of its dive. Jonathan didn’t approve of her living accommodations, but she wasn’t staying on the houseboat just to please her father. She loved it. She’d never known a more tranquil place than the delta. Only an occasional car navigated the narrow roads that wound through the sloughs and the many single-lane bridges; some islands weren’t even accessible by car.

  Wind chimes tinkled behind her. It was so quiet she could hear the water lapping at the pontoon. The two other houseboats that often docked there had gone on a fishing excursion together. It could get lonely without them, and the delta could get foggy and gray during the winter. But it wasn’t winter now, the others would be back soon and she had her work to keep her busy. She generally toted home a heavy briefcase and put in a few extra hours before bed.

  Inside the cabin, she turned on the TV to fill the silence. She hadn’t heard from Geoffrey today—not since last weekend. But that didn’t matter. She had another set of phone records to scour on the Georgette Beeker case, some computer searches to perform on Willie Sims and she needed to make a few calls on Kalyna Harter, beginning with Kalyna’s parents. Jonathan had provided their phone number. Ava could’ve asked Kalyna for it, but she wasn’t ready to inform her client that she had some misgivings about her veracity. Letting Kalyna know might change what she’d hear from the people closest to her. Besides, Ava was still trying to give Kalyna the benefit of the doubt, although she had to wonder if she was overcompensating because of Bella.

  She needed to find out if Kalyna was capable of telling such a terrible lie. That was what she hoped to learn from the Harters—if they’d talk to her.

  The ice clinked as she drained the glass of iced tea she’d left on the dining-room table, next to her briefcase and files. She had no idea how Mr. and Mrs. Harter might respond to her questions. It was possible that Kalyna hadn’t told them what had happened on June 6. Some rape victims were so humiliated they didn’t want to talk about it to anyone, even family or friends.

  Ava frowned. She wasn’t eager to be the one to break the news. It wasn’t her place. But the context of Kalyna’s life would be too valuable to either the prosecution or the defense, depending on what that context proved to be. So, with or without her interference, Kalyna’s folks wouldn’t remain in the dark for long.

  Before picking up her cell phone, Ava checked the clock. Nearly eight. Arizona and California were in the same time zone. If she was lucky, she’d catch the Harters well after they’d finished dinner.

  She dialed, the phone rang and a recorded greeting began.

  You’ve reached the Harter Family Mortuary, a male voice said. Our office hours are nine to six, Monday to Friday, ten to six on Saturday. We’re closed on Sunday. If your call is business related, please leave a message after the beep and we’ll get back to you. If you’d like to speak to a member of the Harter family, press “1.”

  Glad she hadn’t hung up as soon as the recording came on, Ava did as instructed.

  Almost immediately, she heard a female voice. “Hello?”

  “Is Mr. or Mrs. Harter there?”

  “This is Mrs. Harter.”

  “Hello, Mrs. Harter. My name is Ava Bixby—”

  “If you’re looking for the mortuary, it’s closed for the night,” she cut in. “I’m afraid you’ll have to call back in the morning.”

  “I’m not looking for the mortuary.” Ava pulled out one of the heavy dining room chairs and squeezed around the arm of it so she could sit down. “I’d like to speak with you regarding your daughter, Kalyna.”

  There was a silence, then Mrs. Harter said, “Oh, boy, what is it now?”

  Ava felt her eyebrows go up. “Oh, boy” was a rather inauspicious beginning…“I’m with a charity called The Last Stand. We help victims of violent crime who—”

  “You’re calling about the supposed rape.”

  “Yes.” Supposed wasn’t a word she would’ve expected Mrs. Harter to use, either, but at least the woman had been told. That was a relief.

  No longer worried that she’d be breaking a confidence, Ava relaxed and started doodling on her steno pad. “Your daughter came to me for help last Monday.”

  “What kind of help was she after? Money?”

  Ava’s pen carved a deeper imprint on the paper. “No, not money. She wants to make sure the man who hurt her goes to prison, as he should.”

  “Do you have any proof that he raped her?” she asked.

  “We have your daughter’s testimony,” Ava replied.

  “I’d be careful basing anything on that—especially a man’s freedom.”

  Ava dropped her pen, which rolled off the table and hit the floor before she could catch it. “Excuse me?”

  “Just tell me this, what’s in it for her?”

  Ava stiffened. “I don’t know that there’s anything in it for her.”

  “There has to be. There always is.”

  How was she supposed to respond to this? She’d expected a little more from Mrs. Harter. Some sympathy, perhaps. Some concern. “Kalyna was beaten up, too,” she said.

  News of the beating didn’t seem to make a difference. “Do you think that means anything?”

  “I have pictures.”

  Kalyna’s mother laughed at this. “Oh, I’m sure the injuries were real enough, but they couldn’t have been too serious because every last bruise is already gone.”

  “You’ve seen her?” she asked in surprise.

  “She showed up out of the blue just today.”

  Kalyna hadn’t mentioned that she’d be visiting Arizona, but it wasn’t as though she had to check in with Ava. “I guess it’s natural to want to be with family at such a time.”

  “Ms. Bixby, her visit has nothing to do with any desire to see us. She’s getting as much mileage out of this as she can.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “She’s playing the poor, injured victim. Did you know she’s AWOL?” she asked, as if that proved Kalyna wrong in every respect.

  Ava opened Kalyna’s file and flipped through her summary of their first meeting. “She couldn’t get leave?”

  “She says they wouldn’t grant it to her. Claims her superior officer is out to get her. But anyone who stands in her way is out to get her. Chances are she didn’t bother asking like she should have. She had a good excuse and she used it.”

  Kalyna’s mother was so negative it was off-putting, and that created the reverse effect, making Kalyna seem more credible rather than less. “Her situation with the air force doesn’t have anything to do with me,” Ava explained. “I’m only interested in what happened—or didn’t happen—the night of June 6. To be honest, I’m shocked you’re not more concerned about her injuries.”

  “Obviously, you’ve never seen what she can do to herself when she throws one of her tantrums.”

  “You’re saying she’s injured herself before?”

  “That’s exactly what I’m saying.”

  Shit. This had been Ava’s fear, and yet she was tempted to tell Mrs. Harter about Bella, whose death had been a painful lesson about using past behavior to judge a particular incident. Every situation had to be judged on its own merit. But what was the point in trying to share what she’d learned? The most she could hope to get from Norma was clarification.

  Slipping out of her chair, she wandered over to the window. “Tantrums? At age twenty-six?”

  “I don’t know if she’s thrown one lately, but she did it all the time she was growing up, whenever she didn’t get what she wanted.”

  “What did these tantrums consist of?”

  “She’d start screaming and crying and hurting herself. That’s a tantrum, isn’t it?”

  It sure sounded like one. “How bad would it get?”

  “Bad. So bad that a few bruises are nothing to her. I caught her sneaking out one night when she was…oh, probably seventeen, so I told her she’d be doing cleanup duty for the next month. And you know what sh
e did? She started banging her head against the wall! We had to tie her to the bed to stop her from bashing in her stupid skull.”

  If that was true, Kalyna was a very troubled woman. But Ava had already suspected that. “Has she ever received counseling?”

  “No, we knew she’d only manipulate the therapist, have her thinking we were ogres. She tried turning us in for child abuse a few times, nearly got herself put in foster care. That would’ve been lucky for us. I don’t know why we fought it.”

  Ava wasn’t a psychologist, but she was well aware that self-mutilation was a big danger sign. They should’ve sought help. “What about hospital visits?” she persisted. “Surely there’s some proof of this behavior. Even a single documented case?”

  “Her injuries were never so serious that we couldn’t look after them ourselves,” her mother said.

  “You’re kidding, right?”

  “Why would I kid about that? What can a doctor do for a bruise?”

  Ava drew the drapes against the deepening dark. “How did you know she hadn’t given herself a concussion with the head banging? You never had her checked by a professional?”

  Mrs. Harter didn’t react well to censure. Her voice cooled considerably. “Do you realize how much that would’ve cost?”

  Didn’t most people care more about their kids than money? “But—”

  “We own a small business, Ms. Bixby.” We can’t afford health insurance. Besides, it would only have given Kalyna the attention she craves. She’s an actress, that one.”

  Ava pictured the young woman who’d sat sobbing in her office. She’d seemed so normal that day, at least for someone who’d been recently traumatized. “What if, in this one instance, she’s telling the truth?”

  “How would you ever know?” her mother asked.

  “That’s what I’m trying to determine.”

  “Listen, Ms. Bixby, I’m sure you have plenty of other people to worry about. Don’t waste your time with Kalyna. Some people are just bad eggs—and she’s one of them.”

  A click signaled the end of the conversation.