The Perfect Liar

by Brenda Novak

Ava tried to call back, but the mortuary message came on, and this time when she pressed “1”, no one responded. “Damn it!” she grumbled, and called Jonathan to blow off steam.

  “You won’t believe this,” she announced as soon as he said hello.

  “What’s up?” he asked.

  “I just hung up with Kalyna Harter’s mother—she’s a piece of work, let me tell you.”

  “Unfriendly? Eccentric?”

  “More than unfriendly.” Ava rubbed her tired eyes. “Callous, uncaring—hardly the stuff most mothers are made of. I feel sorry for Kalyna.”

  “Well, before you shed too many tears, I’ve found more proof that Kalyna isn’t what you’d call an exemplary citizen.”

  Just what she needed. With a sigh, she returned to the table. “Proof in the form of what?”

  “LexisNexis shows that she got a couple of Visa cards as soon as she turned eighteen, charged them to the limit the very first week and never bothered to pay.”

  Ava pulled the pictures from Kalyna’s file and studied her injuries again. This wasn’t head banging. She’d have to have punched and clawed herself. Could she have done that? “I guess she was under the mistaken impression that goods purchased with Visa are free?”

  “They were free for her,” he said. “But she won’t get that chance a second time. Not for a while, anyway.”

  “Okay, so she’s an irresponsible nymphomaniac who was a problem child. I think we’ve established that. But is she lying about the rape?”

  “I can’t say. I can, however, tell you that Trussell’s credit is perfect. Not one late payment.”

  “We’re not judging these people based on their credit scores, Jon.”

  “We check for a reason, babe.”

  Because it was a fairly accurate indicator of the way people lived their lives. He was right….

  Ava eyed the files that represented her other clients—all of them credible victims. Was she wasting her time with Kalyna? This case was getting more convoluted by the second. But the memory of Bella wouldn’t allow her to let go until she was absolutely certain she wouldn’t be abandoning someone who desperately needed her. “Anything else?”

  “Nothing. Zip. Nada. Weird, huh?”

  She nibbled on a strawberry from a bowl of strawberries she’d rinsed earlier. “Why would that be weird?”

  “It’s as if her life didn’t start until she joined the air force. Well, that’s not strictly true,” he said, correcting himself. “I came up with proof that she and a twin sister were adopted out of Ukraine at six years old and then again—by new parents—three years later, but that’s it. There’s no record of either of them ever having attended school. They weren’t immunized as children. As far as I can tell, they never even visited a doctor.”

  “Their mother home-schooled them. And she considers doctors an unnecessary drain on the family coffers,” Ava explained.

  “Interesting take for a parent.”

  “My thoughts exactly.” Bringing her laptop out of sleep mode, Ava looked up Harter Family Mortuary and watched as a picture of a yellow-and-white Victorian appeared on her screen. She knew she had the right place when she checked the address. It was located in Mesa and had the phone number she’d just called. “The Harters own a mortuary. Check it out,” she said, and gave him the URL.

  “Looks like a bed-and-breakfast,” he said a few seconds later.

  “Close—minus the breakfast part and the fact that the bed is permanent.”

  “Why are we looking at this? What does the family business in Arizona have to do with the alleged rape in California?”

  “Maybe nothing, at least no more than Kalyna’s credit score. It’s just an interesting background, don’t you think? Especially when you put that together with such an uncaring mother?”

  “Burying the dead is a dirty job, but someone’s got to do it,” Jonathan replied. “What I want to know is whether or not you’re finally convinced Captain Trussell is innocent.”

  “I’m convinced he’s a good credit risk,” she said. “But I’m not interested in giving him a loan.”

  “So you’re sticking with it? God, Ava. What’s it going to take?”

  Once again her eyes shifted to the files littering her table. She had limited time and resources, and this case wasn’t going to be an easy one. If everything she knew about Kalyna came out, she suspected the prosecution wouldn’t take it to court. Certainly, a jury of military personnel wouldn’t be highly sympathetic to a woman who ran up Visa bills, didn’t make a single payment, had a history of self-mutilation and slept around.

  “Everything’s going against this girl,” she said.

  “That’s why you can’t let it go. She’s the underdog.”

  “What if she’s a hurt, confused woman who was abused by her parents, joined the air force as her only escape, reached out for love in all the wrong ways and ended up getting beaten and raped by a man who was so sure he could get away with it he didn’t bother to cover his tracks?” The mere thought enraged her. No human was expendable. If Captain Trussell had raped Kalyna, he should be brought to justice.

  “I think you’re better off getting out of this one,” Jonathan said.

  And she hadn’t even told him about the tantrums.

  “Look at the other side,” he went on. “What if you help put an innocent man behind bars? How would you feel about that?”

  “Terrible.”

  “And it’ll hurt the charity, ruin our credibility, cost us everything we’ve worked so hard to build.”

  “You’re right,” she said. “But I want to talk to my client one more time. I feel I should give her a chance to address my concerns before I call it quits.”

  “Fair enough. Meanwhile, is there anything else you want me to do?”

  “No, that’s it for now. Thanks.”

  “Is Geoffrey coming over tonight?” he asked before she could hang up.

  “Is Zoë?” she countered.

  “Zoë’s in L.A. She took her daughter down to visit her father.”

  “He still clean and sober?”

  “So far.”

  “Great news.” She leaned down to retrieve the pen she’d dropped earlier. “When’s your wedding?”

  “We’re thinking August, before Sam has to go back to school.”

  “I know Zoë’s a wonderful woman, but I still can’t believe you’re going through with it.”

  “Why not?”

  “Getting married is so…permanent.”

  “That’s the strange part,” he said. “That’s how I used to feel, but with Zoë I like the idea of permanent. Permanent sounds good. It’s all about meeting the right person, Ava.”

  She found her pen but bumped her head on the way up. “Ow!”

  “You okay?”

  “Fine.” She rubbed the sore spot. “How can you be so sure Zoë’s the right one, Jon?”

  “Because I’d rather die than live without her.”

  For once he wasn’t joking; he’d made that statement as if it was the irrefutable truth. But Ava couldn’t imagine feeling that strongly about anyone, least of all Geoffrey. He couldn’t make or break her day, let alone her life. And she considered her ambivalence to be a blessing. Marriage required so many compromises, so many sacrifices. And for what? Most ended in divorce, which screwed over any kids who were involved.

  Look at what she’d been through with her own stepfather. Look at where “till death do us part” had led her mother….

  “I’m glad you feel that way, truly,” she said. “But don’t think I want the same thing, okay?”

  “You don’t know what you’re missing, Ava.”

  “Marriage isn’t for everybody, Jon,” she said. “Good night.”

  After she’d disconnected, she tried to forget how envious she was of his happiness, and how quiet her own house was even with the TV on, as she gazed at the mortuary pictured on her screen.

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

  I don�
��t know that there’s anything in it for her.

  There has to be. There always is.

  Was it true? Ava could’ve believed Mrs. Harter—could’ve believed her and walked away from this case without a second thought—if only Kalyna had gone to school and visited a doctor at least once or twice in her youth. An education and medical help were considered bare essentials, what any normal parent provided for his or her children, weren’t they?

  9

  “They didn’t mean it,” Tatiana murmured.

  Kalyna nearly snapped at her to close the door and go away, but she couldn’t afford a fight with her sister. Since she’d left home, her folks had boxed up her belongings and shoved them in a forgotten corner in the detached garage. They’d also sold her bed and dresser to give Tati more space—a not-so-subtle hint that they wouldn’t appreciate having her back. Now that she was here, anyway, she had no choice but to sleep on the trundle bed in her sister’s room. No way would they relent and let her use one of the couches upstairs. She wasn’t good enough for that. In their minds, she’d never been good enough for anything except cleaning up blood and embalming fluid and dressing dead people.

  “They did mean it,” she said, and continued to search for any money she might’ve overlooked in her purse. She’d been so excited about this trip, so anxious to show her parents and her sister how well she was doing. And for what? They’d treated her like shit!

  Tati came closer and touched her shoulder. “They’re just…upset. They’re worried about you going AWOL. But don’t let them get you down. They’ll get over it.”

  “How can I not let them get me down?” Kalyna said. “They don’t even want me here! They’d be happier if they never heard from me again.”

  “That’s not true.”

  “Yes, it is.” She thumbed through her wallet, but found it as empty as she feared. She’d never been good with money, couldn’t seem to hang on to it longer than a day or two.

  “Did you think they’d be happy to hear you deserted?” Tati asked.

  “I didn’t desert! I’m going back. I just took a trip to see my family.”

  “Without permission.”

  “It wouldn’t matter to Mom and Dad even if I had permission.” She should’ve figured that out before she ever crossed the state line into Arizona, but she’d imagined her homecoming so differently. Why couldn’t they be proud of her for a change? She had a job, was making money. And she looked a hell of a lot better than her sister. “They don’t care about me.”

  Tati sat on the edge of the desk chair. “Sure they do. They…well, you know what sticklers they are for rules.”

  “I was raped, Tati. You think they’d care more about that than the fact that I left the base without permission.” Kalyna tossed her wallet aside. As usual, Tati was trying to smooth things over, but it didn’t help. Kalyna wanted to flip off her parents and walk out. But she’d have to sleep in her car if she did. She’d spent the last of her pay on a cool pair of sunglasses for the trip and wasn’t even sure how she’d buy the gas to get home.

  “I think they just…Never mind,” Tati said.

  “What?” Kalyna kicked her purse off the bed and let its contents spill across the floor. “If you have something to say, spit it out!”

  “Forget it.” Tati eyed the picture that’d tumbled from Kalyna’s purse. It was of Luke. Kalyna had snapped it at the Moby Dick while he was playing pool and had it printed the very next day. “Who’s that?” she asked, pointing.

  “A friend. He’s in my squadron.” Kalyna got up to retrieve the photograph before her sister could ask any more questions about it. If Tati realized who Luke was, she’d be even more suspicious of Kalyna’s story. Not many rape victims carried around a picture of their attacker. “Whether you want to admit it or not, I know what you’re thinking,” she said, going back to their conversation. “You don’t believe me any more than they do.”

  Tatiana slid off the chair and knelt on the ground, where she began gathering up Kalyna’s belongings. “I want to believe you.”

  Kalyna put the picture upside down on the dresser. “Then why don’t you?”

  A pained expression appeared on her sister’s face. “It just doesn’t ring true to me. So I can’t really blame Mom and Dad for distrusting you. Sometimes I don’t even know whether to believe some of the things you say.”

  Kalyna moved close enough to stab a finger at her sister’s chest. “Are you calling me a liar?”

  Tati ducked her head and busied herself, shoving the makeup, hairbrush and gum wrappers back into Kalyna’s purse. “No, of course not. But rape?” She paused when she came to Luke’s watch and held it up. “This isn’t yours, is it?”

  “It belongs to another friend. I was holding it for him while he played volleyball and he forgot to get it back.”

  Tati set Kalyna’s purse safely on the desk. “You’ve been with so many men. You use them and let them use you. It’s a game to you. How can I be sure you were raped, considering everything you’ve done?”

  “How dare you!” Kalyna retorted. “You don’t know anything about me. I haven’t been with that many.” At least, not that her family knew about. They’d once caught her screwing the son of a client. Shane. He’d come with his mother to make funeral arrangements for his grandmother, and while the adults were talking she’d taken him into the basement to show him the cooler. She’d done it to freak him out, to make him quiver in discomfort and fear at the sight of his poor, dead grandmother. But it turned out he didn’t scare that easily. He said he was bored. So she pulled off her shirt and tossed away her bra—and almost laughed herself to tears when his eyes nearly bugged out of his head.

  Wh-what are you doing? he’d cried.

  Have you ever had sex in a cooler? she’d asked.

  Not a cooler full of dead people, he’d said, but she knew he’d never had sex anywhere.

  Now’s your chance. Or are you too scared?

  I’m not scared. I’d do it in a heartbeat, but…not while my grandmother’s in here. Put your clothes on.

  It’s not your grandmother that’s making you nervous, she’d scoffed and begun touching herself.

  That had distracted him, but he’d still been terrified. I can’t do it with you. My parents would have a coronary.

  Why would they have to know?

  What if they found out?

  Take a chance, scaredy-cat.

  I would if you were any other girl, but—

  But what? What’s wrong with me? Look. How many girls do you know with tits this big?

  He’d looked, all right; he wasn’t afraid to do that. She could tell he wanted her. But he’d still argued. It’s not your body. It’s your screwed-up mind. Everyone says you and your sister are weird.

  That comment had made her feel like a leper. But it wasn’t her first snub. She wasn’t blind. She saw the way people watched her whenever she went to the library or the drugstore, how they whispered behind their hands. Is that what you think? she’d asked.

  I don’t know, Shane had hedged.

  He was a year younger than she was. Where did he get off acting as if he was too good! And that was when she’d decided to enslave him, to make him think of her constantly, to crave her. I’ll show you weird, she’d said and backed him into a corner.

  He hadn’t had any complaints about her after that. Ten minutes later, he was sighing in ecstasy and telling her she was the only girl he’d ever love. But then her father had walked in and ruined everything. Shane was never allowed over again. And if she bumped into him in town, he wouldn’t even look at her. He’d turn bright red and stare at his feet.

  Then, when she was seventeen, there was the twenty-six-year-old her father had hired to help out around the grounds and drive the hearse. Mark Cannaby. He’d loved her, would do anything for her. But she couldn’t forgive him for what happened with that hitchhiker chick. She’d only stuck with him because it upset her parents.

  Mark gave her quite an education before her
parents caught on and put a stop to it. They played “hide the salami” everywhere—in the yard, in the coffins, on the embalming table. It was Mark’s fault she’d had to have her first abortion. When she was a couple months along, her mother had heard her on the phone, trying to find an abortion clinic close to home and had dragged her across town, where no one would know them. She’d had to claim she was a runaway without the means to pay or Norma would’ve thrown her out. And her relationship with Mark had stalled shortly after. Why she’d gotten involved with him, she had no idea. At least he’d kept quiet about the hitchhiker they’d secretly killed and cremated.

  He should have kept quiet. It was his fault. She never would’ve done it without him.

  “I know of at least two guys you slept with,” Tati said.

  “That was it,” Kalyna responded, but there’d been a number of sexual conquests after Mark, including the postman. She still laughed when she remembered him showing up at the door on any excuse, hoping she’d bring him to her room. She couldn’t remember why she’d bothered with that old man in the first place. It wasn’t as if she didn’t have better candidates, especially once her e-mail address started circulating among the football players at the local high school. During what would’ve been her senior year, she met a group of boys at the cemetery down the street almost every Friday night and did them all. One time she had ten different boys taking turns with her. She’d wanted to do the whole team for homecoming, but someone spread the rumor that she had herpes and only a few showed up.

  She got pregnant for the second time during those two months. She’d had no idea whose baby she carried, but she still wished she’d told Logan it was his. Logan was the quarterback, but he never joined the group. He couldn’t show up at the cemetery or someone would rat him out to his prude girlfriend, who’d barely let him kiss her, never mind get her naked. He’d have Kalyna come to his house every few weeks, instead; he’d sneak her in through his window while his parents slept.

  She liked being in his room, his bed, his space. Liked pretending she was his girlfriend. It made her feel as if she belonged with him, as if she was part of something good. His family was just an average middle-class American family, but he and his siblings went to public school, played sports, had lots of friends. She’d envied them and everyone associated with them.