Lie Catchers (31 page)

“I’m sorry, Jenny. I had no idea—”

She waved away his response. “We’re not healthy this way, Parker. Look at you, me, Mallen, Liv. By nature, we tend to keep private things tucked in, but secrets need to come out, no matter what the consequences.” She exhaled. “I killed Sing Lee. Greta was pregnant by that bastard, Tor, and her plan was to borrow money from the supposedly generous Sing Lee and get an abortion in Juneau. But the patriarchal Chinese culture interfered. Not only did Sing Lee refuse to lend her money, but he felt obligated to tell all of Petersburg about her pregnancy if she didn’t marry Tor. Now, she didn’t tell me about the pregnancy and Sing Lee’s refusal to lend her money and his treachery, until days after she begged the man for money. She was suicidal by that time, my sweet, sweet sister. I was so angry I stormed over to the store after hours that night in November. Since he never locked the doors, I was able to march right into his bedroom. There he was, a skinny guy in a long gray nightgown. I argued with him to keep Greta’s secret and let her get away from an abusive boyfriend. When he wouldn’t budge, I hit him. He slipped and fell down on that anvil he used to step up to his bed. But he got right up again and ordered me out of his bedroom. Told me it was my job to force Greta to marry Tor. Shoved me out the door and closed it behind him.

“I left. Crying. Angry. Wishing I’d beaten him senseless. I never told Greta about my visit to Sing Lee that night nor how I pushed him and he fell. Much later, I learned from the marshal that Lee’s fall on the anvil caused internal bleeding and his death.

“I’ve asked myself a million times if deep in my bones I’d known he was hurt from hitting the anvil and in my anger, I’d ignored the signs. Some days I see a glint of pain in Sing Lee’s eyes after he got up from his fall; most days I remember his smug argument that men rule the world. But the guilt is with me always. I was paranoid to the point that I was sure Liv knew I was responsible for Sing Lee’s death. She kept asking questions about Greta, as if she knew Greta was a key figure.”

“But I—” Liv protested.

Jenny shook her head. “I know now that you were working out some things between you and Parker. Gus is Parker for you.” She rubbed her eyes. “I found out Mallen would risk everything to shield me; I saw how guilt was ruining both Parker and Mallen’s lives. Then I knew it was time to tell everything.”

The room was quiet except for the ticking of the grandfather clock. Ivor stood up with a grunt and paced, his face stiff with tension.

Liv knelt at Jenny’s feet holding her hands. “I was selfish to write the series. I see that now.”

She squeezed Liv’s hands. “Nonsense. You used the story like Hamlet did his play, to get to the truth of certain matters. How could you predict this kind of fallout?”

Liv shook her head. “It was self-serving. I’m the one hiding stuff.”

Jenny smiled. “Not any more. By turning myself in, I’ve helped you, dear.”

“How?”

“Because you wrote something important, you’ve solved a cold case for the town. Plus the secret’s out about your memory and you don’t have to waste energy to hide it.”

Liv rose from the floor, her head spinning with Mallen and Jenny’s confessions. She touched her split lip, reminded of her ordeal with Tuck.
This doesn’t feel like something to celebrate.

Parker took her hand as she passed by him. “Not much of an upswing, is it?”

Even a wry grin made her lip hurt. “Not exactly the healing dinner together I had in mind.”

Standing and hugging her, Parker said, “The people we love are here in this room, safe. I’m thankful for that.”

Liv sighed and settled her cheek against his chest. “But as soon as we leave this house…”

“What happens to us?” Mallen asked, gripping Jenny’s hand.

From his station behind Mallen, one hand resting on her shoulder, Ivor said, “Later. First we deal with the situation at hand. Until we find Barber, this town isn’t safe. Our assumption is he’s taken out Nilson. Since Liv is the one who could testify against Barber, he could come after her again.”

Parker kissed the top of Liv’s head. “Will you stay here with Chet and Harriet until I come to take you to your apartment?”

“I will. The three of us are armed and ticked off.”

He smiled. “Good. I need you to write out everything you remember from the kidnapping. And rethink all the dates you have in your head. Tuck is worried about what you know beyond your testimony that he came home early on the morning of Tilly’s death. What might that be?”

Putting a hand to her forehead. “It’s fuzzy in here right now with the pain pills. Maybe a good night’s sleep will clear my brain.”

“You and Chet stay put. Ivor and I will take Jenny and Mallen to the B&B, then follow some more leads looking for Tuck.” He glanced at his watch. “I’ll be back around midnight to drive you home and I’ll stay with you while Chet remains with Harriet.”

Exhaling, Liv released her hold around Parker’s waist, shivering from the loss of his warmth as she remembered the ice-cold nuzzle of Tuck’s gun. He’d held it to her temple and cocked the thing, scaring her so badly that her teeth clattered like castanets when she told him all she knew.
The burden of a wacko brain.

Parker framed her face with his hands. “I love your mind, Livy. Don’t be ashamed of it or of how Tuck made you talk, understand?” He shook her head up and down and smiled. “Good. Rest. See you in a few hours.”

When she watched Parker leave with Ivor, her knees wobbled and she grabbed her mother around the waist for support. At Harriet’s worried expression, Liv said, “How did Petersburg become such a dangerous place? I’m scared to let those two out of my sight.”

****

“Better be good news, Browne, or your Alaska case is about to make department shitcan history,” SAC Newcastle growled.

“Reporting in, sir. Sorry it’s late. Apologies to the family.” Parker sat at Ivor’s desk, a tiny lamp lighting the empty page of a tablet. He held the phone to his ear with one hand and twirled a pen with the other.

“Everyone’s in bed except me. On with it.”

“Barber and Nilson are still missing. Liv Hanson and my father have been seen by a doctor and are resting at Liv’s family home.”

“What’s your strategy?”

Parker wrote the word ‘Strategy’ at the top of the page. “Ivor Hanson, the local chief, his captain, and sergeant joined him in a house to house search tonight. He’s notified thirty citizens to be on the lookout for Barber and Nilson. I’m going to pull in a local guy, a seasoned hiker, named Josh Cameron, to help me find Tuck Barber’s favorite cross country routes; we’ll start at early light.”

“You think he’s hiding in the woods somewhere?”

“We’ve checked every means of transportation out of this place. Nilson and Barber certainly didn’t leave by car, plane, or boat using their own names. Under disguise and fake names? We have to start working on that angle tomorrow. It’s Thanksgiving next week; lots of travelers and people we need to talk to are on vacation. Any chance you can send someone to help?”

“We’re stretched to the max.” Oldshack huffed. “You think all this happened because of Hanson’s newspaper column?”

“I do. Tuck Barber guesses we’re close to arresting him and he’s desperate to find out what we know. He might have kidnapped Nilson to squeeze information out of him the same way he tortured details out of Liv.” Parker closed his eyes at the thought of Liv’s delicate features marred by swelling and redness.

“But he let her go.”

“Liv thinks he got spooked by a car slowing up near the shelter. Maybe he figured she’d told him all she knew.”

“Same treatment for Nilson, you think?”

“He’s trained. Might be a different outcome.”

Oldshack said, “He’s a tough nut. A loner. Stubborn. Wouldn’t let us help him with the Cayman thing.”

“You don’t know if he got the information out of the Cayman bank? He insisted he was working on it with you.”

“Like I said, he wanted to crack it by himself.” Oldshack cleared his throat. “All I’m saying is, I don’t think a civilian will get a thing out of Nilson. If Barber is as desperate as you describe, Nilson might end up a corpse.”

“Sir, you have all my reports. If you can’t send someone to help me, then pursue the Cayman link. Find out what Nilson discovered and then we can guess the information Tuck Barber beat out of him.”

“Done. I’ll go in early tomorrow morning. Call me at the office.”

“Thank you, sir.”

Parker punched an end to the call and stared at the empty space below ‘Strategy.’ He wrote ‘Barber,’ followed by ‘Nilson.’ Where were they? What was their connection? Drawing an arrow from Barber to Nilson, he added a second arrow from Nilson to Barber. If Barber kidnapped Nilson, what would Nilson spill and what would Barber do with the information? Maybe Barber had already left the island and gone off to collect his money, downloading a new pair of death certificates and a replacement flight ticket to the Caymans. If Barber couldn’t bury Nilson’s body did he wrap it and stash it somewhere?

He considered scenarios as darkness surrounded his circle of light, the mysteries of the case as impenetrable as the gloom.

****

Sleep eluded Liv even though she was bone tired. Harriet had made up the spare bedroom for Chet and they both went to bed early, but Liv sat in the dimly lit living room, feet up and snuggled under a fleece blanket, waiting for Parker to take her home. Something niggled at her brain, as uncomfortable as a dangling participle or a hanging chad. God, she hated disorder. What was missing on her chart?

This mission was new to Liv, sorting through what other people said and did. She was used to carefully organizing her own life and keeping those results a secret, yet Parker hoped her memories of the actions and words of other people would help him solve crimes. Was that possible? Surely she could try.

She closed her eyes and with the grandfather clock setting the rhythm, she flipped through each day in November. Jewelry and place came first followed by outfits and weather. Conversations she had with herself replayed in her memory, as did verbatim dialogue with other people. Liv was astonished to remember, as if in real-time, how she felt about the people she talked to, all anchored by the jewelry she wore. The label on each file was the color and type of necklace and earrings she wore. Inside the file was the audio and video record of every minute of the day.

I am weird.

Parker’s voice agued:
Don’t say that Livy. Feelings of embarrassment or shame shut you down. Let your skill run freely instead of locking it in your closet.

I’m afraid. What if my ability makes me impossible to live with and unable to love? If I give myself freedom to range as far as my skill takes me, what if I turn out to be an automaton, a human computer? Who wants to live with a person like that?

Think of the energy it takes to hold back, Liv. Imagine all the time and effort you’ve wasted by keeping it a secret, even to your family. It’s a gift. It’s a part of your personality. Use it. Be it.

But I’ve learned to like myself this way. What if I’m not fond of the newly freed Liv Hanson?

You have God-given talents, Livy. Use them. Be proud of them.

Nobody loves a lie catcher.

I do.

Promise?

I do.

Liv sank deeper into her reverie, feeling Parker’s hand on her head, soothing and accepting, a palpable presence. She exhaled, tugged the blanket up to her chin and reexamined her chart. Magically, empty slots inserted themselves, begging to be filled.

“Ah!” she gasped, her eyes snapping open, and her hand shooting out to grab her phone and make a call. Later, when she set the phone down, she closed her eyes again and smiled, tension draining from her body. Parker was right. The effort to stop her mind from working freely had been enormous. For the first time in her life, she felt calm and sure and proud. And oh, so tired. Very, very tired.
Go to sleep
, her brain said.
Don’t worry. I’ve got this.

****

“I don’t think I can walk, Parker,” Liv said, gingerly rubbing her forehead. “It must be the pain pills…I’m feeling logy.”

“Want to stay here? It’s midnight, honey. You could sleep in this chair if you want to.” Parker gently moved Liv’s legs aside and sat on the ottoman.

She pulled herself up in the chair, wincing from the effort. “This is a ‘should’ situation. I should go home.”

“You decide. I stay with you here at your mom’s or in your apartment. You choose.”

“Ho..me. I have stuff…to tell you…on the phone…I—”

“Shh. We’ll figure it all out it the morning once you’ve had a good night’s sleep.”

Parker helped her stand, gather her things and settle in the car. She seemed drained after her ordeal, her movements slow and her speech slurred. As he lifted her out of the car, the fragility of her frame and her damaged face tore at his heart.

Once they’d reached the top of the stairs to her apartment, Parker unlocked the door, and took her into his arms. She smiled and kissed him on the nose. “I’m ha…ppy, Parker. Because of you, I’m happy.”

He kicked the door shut behind him and clutched her close, reveling in Liv’s bravery. With a kiss to her forehead, he strode to the bedroom and gently lay her down. He was about to ask how he could help her get ready for bed, when her eyes grew wide and she grasped his arm tightly.

“Parker. Liv. Sorry to intrude,” said SA Nilson strolling in from Liv’s living room. “As soon as I got free from Barber, this seemed like the best place to come.”

Liv’s grip on Parker’s arm intensified, enough so that Parker turned from Nilson back to her. Eyes blinking and with a nearly imperceptible shake of her head, she elbowed herself up and said, “Anton. We could be twins. Tuck beat you up, too?”

Nilson touched his split lip. “His ring caught us on the mouth.” He put his hand to his side. “Hope you didn’t get the kick in the kidneys.”

With a tap on her abdomen, Liv said, “Socked in the stomach. He let you go?”

Pulling out the desk chair, Nilson sat down with a groan. “I guess so. The bindings around my wrists had some give in them. You?”