The Darkest Lie (26 page)

“I've never seen you wear anything like that,” Sam says, his eyes drifting to my cleavage. But not because he enjoys the sight. The opposite, in fact, if his frown's any indication.

“I blend with the bushes.” I tug at my shirt. “Isn't that what you said we should do, when we were breaking into the shed? Blend?”

His eyes haven't left my neckline. “This wasn't what I had in mind.”

He has a point. Instead of robber-black, I'm wearing a snug forest-green top that dips into a low V, a birthday gift from Alisara last year. What I said was true—it's the same color as the greenery—but I'm not wearing it for camouflage. Rather, I want to be prepared.

We peek through the foliage at one of the cabins along the lake. The sun's fiery orb skims the edge of the water, and the geese honk as if they're stuck in a traffic jam. It was the crazy birds that clued me in. From our first conversation, Liam has complained about the birds waking him up every morning. And while the geese utilize the entire lake as their playground, they converge on the south side where their shelter is.

Once we narrowed our search, it was a simple matter of driving along the south side of the lake looking for the Firebird. We found the car in the third driveway we searched, a few cabins from Bobby Parker's house and across the lake from the hotline.

“I don't like this,” he says. “You dangling yourself as bait.”

“I'm not crazy about it, either. But do you have a better idea?”

“We could call the police.”

“And say what? That your sister's dating a twenty-year-old guy? If they haven't had sex, then there's no crime.” I take a deep breath, remembering the scathing looks the detectives gave my dad when he came to them with one of his theories. The way they didn't even bother to hide their snickers. But I'll endure all that, and more, if it means Liam won't be able to hurt anyone, ever again. “By the time we explain the whole story, it will be too late. We'll call them as soon we get Briony out of there. I promise.”

He nods, adjusting his glasses. “Do you think he'll fall for your plan? My sister's a sure thing. Why would he let her leave?”

“He needs to expand his pornography ring. And I'm positive he was grooming me to be his next victim.” I blush, thinking of the way Liam flattered me with his attention. The way he made me feel special, like I was the only girl in the world. If I hadn't had Sam, how close would I have come to getting sucked under his spell? “If I give him an opening, I don't think he'll turn it down.”

Sam squints at the cabin. Not a flutter of the curtain, not a stray cat meowing on the deck. “I guess there's only one way to find out.”

I settle on the ground, put the phone on speaker, and dial Liam's personal cell number.

He answers on the fourth ring. “Hello.”

In the background, we hear a faint but familiar shrill of laughter.

Sam almost falls over. “That's her,” he mouths.

“Liam, this is CeCe,” I say, trying—and failing—to sound coy. How on earth does Raleigh pack so much coquettishness into her words? “I was hoping we could talk.”

“Sure, go ahead.”

Not what I'm looking for.

“Could we talk in person? I'd like to see you.”

He pauses. “This isn't a good time, CeCe. Maybe tomorrow?”

“Oh.” I don't have to fake the disappointment in my voice. “I'd really like to see you tonight. You said, anytime I wanted to talk, just say the word. I wasn't up to company a few days ago. But now that I've had the chance to mull things over, I think I'm ready.”

I glance up, and Sam's right there, knees touching mine, face inches away. I look right into his eyes as I continue, “Sometimes, I think you're the only person in this world who understands me.”

The seconds pass. Liam clears his throat, and static snakes onto the line, as if he's moving the phone into another room. Did I lay it on too thick?

“Okay,” Liam says finally. “Come by my cabin in half an hour.”

I grin at Sam, and he lifts his hand for a high-five. Instead, I lace my fingers with his. Because it makes less noise and because I want to.

Liam gives me the address—the address of the very property on which we're sitting—and I hang up.

“And now,” Sam says, squeezing my hand. “We wait. The second she comes out, we'll grab her.”

We crouch behind the bushes, watching the front door for Briony to emerge. We wait and we watch. We watch and we wait. And then we wait and watch some more.

But there's no sign of Briony.

I glance at my watch. “Almost thirty minutes have passed.”

“What's he thinking?” Sam shoves his hands through his hair. “That Bri will stay in the other room while he hooks up with you? Or does he have her tied up? Or—oh god—what if that wasn't her we heard, after all? What if he's already hurt her or drugged her or—”

“Sam!” I grab his arms. “We don't know. We're not going to know anything until I go inside.”

He lowers his forehead until it's touching mine. The frame of his glasses jabs into my skin, but I don't back away. Not a single inch. “You knew you were going in,” he says dully. “That's what the shirt is all about.”

“I hoped I wouldn't have to.”

He pulls back, and the glasses are crooked on his face. I reach out to straighten them, my heart full of resolve and anticipation and fear—and something else, too. Something only Sam evokes in me. If it's not love, then it's pretty damn close.

“Be careful, CeCe,” he says.

“I'll try.”

Liam answers the door seconds after I knock, dressed in jeans and a hoodie zipped halfway up his bare chest. He smiles when he sees me, a smile that reaches his eyes and broadcasts his sincerity.

Not once does he look at my cleavage.

Man, he's good. If the evidence hadn't been staring at me from the yearbook, if Lila hadn't confessed that she met Phoenix at the hotline, I never would've suspected him in a million years.

“You're here,” he says, giving me a hug.

For a second, I go statue-still. I've hugged him before. Hell, that day the lights flickered at the hotline, I spent a good five minutes in his arms. But that was before I knew he was a sexual predator. Before I knew he very likely killed my mom.

I wind my arms around him automatically. I feel like I'm hugging a snake. Those limbs slithering across my back. The cool, minty breath against my cheek. Even his chest, where it brushes against my skin, feels too smooth. Too silky.

A column of flame burns up my chest. Instant heartburn. Oh god. I hope I don't throw up over us both.

He moves back and grins. “I'm so glad you came.”

“Me, too.” I let the nerves leak into my voice. That's appropriate, right? If I were visiting my crush at his cabin for the first time, I'd definitely be nervous.

He tucks me into his side like a doll, and we walk past the kitchen and into the living room. So far, the layout looks like the hotline's. If the pattern holds, the bathroom will be down the hall, the basement office a few steps below that. The most private area of the house. The perfect place to stash a girl to keep her out of sight.

“You wanted to talk?” He gestures toward a dark leather couch and pours me a glass of water from a pitcher sitting on the end table. It even holds thin slices of lemon.

“That was an excuse. I wanted to see you.” I look at him through my eyelashes—a move I've seen Raleigh perform dozens of times. I must do a decent job because he smiles and sits next to me.

“I must say, I'm surprised. That night at the auction, I got the impression you were interested in someone else.”

I lick my lips. “I've always liked you. But you were older and so good-looking. I thought
you
would never be interested in me.”

He narrows his eyes. “And yet, you turned down my dinner invitation. You chose Tommy Farrow's company over mine.”

My pulse hammers in my throat. Oh god. He doesn't believe me. What can I say?

And then it comes to me: the truth. As Gram taught me, the most believable lies are based on an element of truth.

“You're the one I want,” I say. “My date with Tommy wasn't romantic. I bid on him so that I could talk to him about my mom.”

His hands clench. “Ah. Did you, uh, get the information you were looking for?”

I make myself look straight in his reptilian eyes. How could I ever have thought he was handsome? The eyes give it away. Small and cruel, a blue so cold it could freeze water. “He gave me a tip, but it didn't pan out. Like I told you on the phone, I made a mistake and almost accused the wrong person.” I stare at my fingers. “I was silly. Playing detective, when I don't know the first thing about tracking down a criminal. I guess you could say I learned my lesson. From now on, I'm leaving the investigating to the professionals.”

The words come easily. As they should. This was exactly how I felt before I saw Briony's chopped-off hair. But does Liam buy it?

I count four breaths, in and out, and then he squeezes my shoulder. “Why don't I give you a tour? We can start upstairs. With the bedrooms.”

Gotcha.

“I'd love a tour,” I say. “But first, could I freshen up in the bathroom?”

“No problem.” His fingers slide under my short cap sleeves, both a caress and a promise. “It's right down the hall.”

Giving him my best seductive smile, I sashay away. Once I'm halfway down the hall, I glance over my shoulder. He's nowhere in sight. Good.

My heart scampers, my mouth dries. This is it. My chance to find Briony and get us the hell out of here.

I blow past the bathroom and trip down the stairs, making sure my footsteps are muffled by the carpet. Opening the door, I walk into a photo studio. I scan the room. An expensive-looking camera on a tripod, professional spotlights, a big white backdrop. A four-poster bed with fluffy pillows. Slinky red boa. A bucket of ice.

And standing in the middle of the set is Briony.

“CeCe!” Her eyes take up half her face. “What are you doing here?”

Her feet are bare, and her body is wrapped in a black silk kimono. She's wearing a wig of sunset red hair, shot through with flames. I've only known one person who has hair that color.

One person from whom the wig could've been made.

The room pitches, and I wrap my hand around the bedpost to stay upright.

But there's no time to faint. I grit my teeth, fighting the dizziness. “We've got to get out of here. Is there a back door? A window we can climb through?”

Her eyebrows crease. “What are you talking about? I'm not going anywhere. How'd you find out about Liam, anyway?”

“Briony, listen to me. Your boyfriend is a sexual predator.” Convince her. Quickly. “He runs an underage pornography business, and he lures girls into falling in love with him so he can take their pictures.”

She glances at the photo set, with its bed and props. “He said they would be for his personal enjoyment. He said I was so sexy he couldn't get enough of me, and this way, he'd be able to enjoy me all the time.”

“You haven't taken any photos, have you, Bri? Oh please. Tell me I got here in time.”

Her hands go to her waist, tightening the belt of her kimono. “We were just about to get started when he got called away on business.”

“I was his business. I called and asked to come over, and he leaped at the opportunity to convert me into one of his victims.” I take a deep breath. “While you were down here waiting, he was upstairs, flirting with me.”

“I don't believe you.” She shakes her head, and the red strands swing in the air. So bouncy. So lifelike. “He loves me.”

We don't have time for this. Liam will be here any second. He's probably looking for me now.

I grip her shoulders. “The wig you're wearing. It's made from my mother's hair. She was investigating his pornography ring, and when she got too close, he killed her. Only he chopped off her hair first, just like he chopped off yours. You're wearing a dead woman's hair, Bri. That's the kind of monster he is. Now do you believe me?”

She pales, and my hands slide to her forearms. I've got her now. “Come on. We've got to go.”

But it's too late.

The door creaks open, and Liam stalks into the room, his white teeth glinting in the overly bright spotlights.

“Hello, ladies,” Liam drawls. “I see you've found each other.”

His hands are empty. That means no weapon. Not yet. There's two of us. One of him. We can take him. We can get out of here.

But only if my second is willing to fight.

Briony shakes my hand off and walks to her boyfriend.

“It's not true, is it?” she says. “CeCe's been telling me all these crazy things. You're not really a child pornographer, are you? You didn't kill her mom?” She pulls the wig from her head and lets it drop to the floor, shuddering. “This isn't the hair of a dead woman?”

His eyes widen, his mouth drops—the very picture of an innocent man accused. He's not just a good actor; he's a goddamn psychopath.

“Of course it's not true.” He strokes her blunt, jagged locks, as though he's a parent soothing a toddler. “CeCe's unstable. You must've seen it.”

“Liar!” I burst out.

He talks right over me. “That's why Mr. Willoughby recommended she volunteer at the hotline. He thought we could help her. Instead, she fell in love with me. Which, incidentally, is why things didn't work out between her and your brother. She'd say anything to get rid of you. Anything to have me.” He caresses her lips, her chin. “But she won't come between us, will she, my love? Because you're the only one for me. Now and forever.”

He drops his hand from her face and winds it around her waist. She sighs and leans into him.

“Briony, don't listen to him.” I rise on my toes. I have to make her understand. “He's lying. He's a madman and murderer. You can ask your brother. He'll tell you. He knows the truth.”

But she no longer hears me. She closes her eyes, and he grins at me over her head. Smug. Triumphant. I want to take the bucket of ice and dump it on his head.

“Let me handle this, darling,” he says to Briony. “Go wait for me upstairs, and I'll be along shortly. Okay?”

“Okay.” She glances at me over her shoulder. An expression I can't read flits across her face. “Please hurry.”

Seconds later, she's gone, the door banging a few times against the jamb.

Liam turns to me, a sneer twisting his features. “For once, I thought I'd found my equal. I thought you would be the one to understand the complicated nuances of my relationship with my father. We could've been good, you and I. But, no. Just when I thought we had a shot, you had to go poking around where you had no business.”

“What are you going to do?” I plant my feet, even though my knees tremble like a kite in the wind. Don't quiver, dammit. Look him straight in the eyes. Be strong. “Kill me like you killed my mother?”

“I warned you, didn't I? I told you to get back in your shell. But you didn't listen. You just had to dig up your mom's past. You just had to get to the bottom of her supposed affair with Tommy.” He walks to a set of drawers and pulls out a pair of scissors. Shiny, metal, blunt. “I have to admit, I'll enjoy reenacting her suicide scene. So much better than reliving the memory with only a wig. I'll cut your hair, overdose you on pills, and drag you to the crisis hotline. What do you think?”

“You're insane,” I whisper.

“Maybe. But your hotshot reporter boyfriend will love it. Can you imagine? It will be the story of the year! Daughter follows suicidal mother's footsteps.”

“Like you tried to mimic your dad?” I ask. The scissors are open now at pointed at me. I've got to keep him talking. Got to find a way to distract him. “He was quite the loser, you know. Taking advantage of his student like that.”

“He was in love.” Liam snaps the scissors closed. “It was your mother who broke his heart. Your mother who betrayed him and turned him into a hard, bitter man. It was a moment's flirtation for her. Just another instance of her acting like the slut she was. But for me? It meant a lifetime of punishment and cruelty, of being shot down again and again for not being good enough. She made him that way. And so, she had to pay.”

My eyes widen. “That's why you killed her? She flirted with one boy, Liam. Twenty-five years ago. Your dad was already messed up. It had nothing to do with her.”

“It had everything to do with her!” He's panting hard now, and the scissors tremble in his hand. He takes several long, deep breaths, as if struggling for control.

“I didn't set out to kill her,” he says more softly. “After my dad died, I went through his papers and found what I thought was an unfinished manuscript he was writing. Only it wasn't fiction. It didn't take me long to figure out that the names of the places and people were real. That was when I learned how Tabitha Brooks destroyed my father's life. So, I moved to Lakewood and volunteered at the hotline to get to know her better. And then, something unexpected happened.”

He straightens his shoulders and inclines his head. Right in front of me, he seems to grow two inches. “I discovered power. When I was on the phone with these callers, they listened to me. They deferred to me. They hung on to my every word, and they wouldn't have dared take a step without my permission. I realized not only could I finally live up to my father's expectations, I could surpass him. He had one high school girl; I would have a dozen. He took explicit photos for his own enjoyment; I would post my photos for the world to see.”

He flashes his teeth. This must be the smile he gives when nobody's looking. When he doesn't have to be anybody but himself. “If my dad could see me now, he would approve, don't you think?”

“But you didn't expect my mom to find out,” I say. “You didn't count on one of your victims calling the hotline and tipping her off. You didn't know she'd be able to connect you with your father.”

“It worked out.” He opens and closes the scissors, and the blades click as they rub against one another. “She died before she could do any real damage.”

I lick my lips, staring at the scissors. Keep him talking. Just keep him talking. “There are a few things I don't get. How did the six missed calls get on Sam's home phone? And how did the Jean Grey comic book get in Mr. Willoughby's office?”

Liam walks closer. He's an arm's length away now. “Easy.” He grins, and I'm not sure which is more menacing. The scissors, or his gleaming, white teeth. “Briony. She'd jump off a cliff for me. It was a simple matter to ask her to call you and to eavesdrop on your conversation with Tommy. She told me you were hot on Phoenix's trail, not that she understood what it meant. That's when I put that comic book in his office.”

That's right. I remember the glimpse of dark curls disappearing around the corner. Tommy and I checked for eavesdroppers before we started the conversation, but we never looked again. Briony could've come back. She could've heard us talking, and Liam's savvy enough to make up a believable story to explain why he was asking her to do these “favors.”

“What about the Photoshopped pictures, the ones that Mackenzie put up?” I ask. “When you texted me, you made it sound like you were responsible. Were you in league with her?”

“Nah. I was just lucky that rich bimbo Mackenzie was out to get you. It fit perfectly into my plans. Any other questions?”

He loves this, I can tell. He loves sharing his brilliance, and it doesn't matter what I know, anyway, because he thinks I'll end up dead.

“Mr. Swift!” I say. “Was it also just a coincidence that those photos were discovered in his darkroom this morning?”

“I may capitalize off coincidence, but I don't rely on it.” His grin is quick and arrogant. “I knew you had ruled out Mr. Willoughby. You all but confessed that to me when you told me you almost made a false accusation. I needed another scapegoat, so I planted the photos in Mr. Swift's darkroom and left an anonymous tip for Principal Winters.”

Out of the corner of my eye, I see the door move. A fraction of an inch. Is it my imagination? Or maybe the wind? “So he's innocent?”

“As innocent as your mother. The photos weren't his, but I'm sure he's had a lewd thought or twenty. Who doesn't?” Liam shoots his hand out, wrapping my hair around his fist. “But that's enough talking. Time to get down to business.” He closes the scissors, and a hunk of my hair floats to the floor.

He opens the scissors, about to take another chunk, when the door flies open. Briony bursts into the room, a frying pan in her hands. She smashes the pan over his head, her muscles bulging, and he pitches forward.

“Run, CeCe, run!”

We tear up the stairs and down the hall, Briony a few steps ahead of me. My head roars, my lungs burn, but I'm only focused on one thing.

Get out, get out, get out.

There! The front door. She fumbles with the knob once, twice, and then manages to get it open. We dash down the sidewalk, but as we step off the flagstone, she twists her ankle and goes down on the gravel.

I yank her torso, trying to haul her up. She almost comes to a standing position. I almost get my arm underneath her. But then she puts pressure on her foot, yelps, and collapses onto the ground once again.

“I'm so sorry, CeCe,” she sobs. “I never meant to hurt you or anybody else. He convinced me that I was just looking out for my brother. That I had to spy on you to make sure you were the right girl for Sam . . .”

I try to pull her up once more. “It's okay, Bri. Don't worry about that right now. We're so close. We just have to get to Sam, and he'll help us. We're almost there. Almost there . . .”

“Not soon enough.”

My heart sinks to the gravel beside Briony. Liam strides out of the cabin, blood trickling down his forehead and a weapon in his hands. Only this time, it's not a pair of scissors—but a gun.

“Get back in the house. Both of you. Or you're both dead.”

“But she's hurt,” I say. “She can't stand—”

“Then maybe I should shoot her like the bitch she is.” He strides over to Briony and hauls her up, pressing the gun to her temple. “She's no use to me lame. And she knows too much. Yes, I think I'll kill her right now and turn this sordid affair into a murder-suicide. You think good old Sam will still get his rocks off on this story?”

Briony whimpers in pain. It's more than a sprain. A glistening white bone pokes out of her ankle. Even if I can pry her from his grip, there's no way she'll be able to run away.

“Count with me.” He jabs the gun deeper into her skin. “One . . .”

I look frantically around the front lawn, looking for a weapon, a way out, any kind of exit strategy. But there's nothing. Just the log cabin and forest-green grass and the densely planted trees Sam and I were hiding behind. Where the hell is Sam? Why isn't he out here helping me save his sister?

“Two . . .”

My mind spins. Forget Sam. Forget any other help. I'm on my own here, and I can't let him kill her. I need to distract him. But how? How? How?

“Thr—”

“Wait!” I shout. “You don't have to do this. Because you can have something to hold over me. To hold over both of us.” My eyes, my hands, my entire body go still. Never, in a million years, would I have believed it would come to this. But now that the moment's here, a strange calmness overtakes me. This is the way it's supposed to be. Maybe the way it was always supposed to be. “I'll pose for you. Right here, right now. I'll take off my clothes, and you can take as many pictures as you want.”

He takes the gun from her temple and lowers it an inch. He's thinking about it. Good.

“Once you have the photos, you know I'll never betray you,” I say. “I would never risk being judged like that. You know me. You know it's true. Please, Liam. Don't kill us, when there's another way.”

“That's a very interesting proposition.” He lowers the gun all the way, so that it's pointing at the ground. “Why don't you take off your shirt, and then we'll see—”

BANG!

My heart stops.

Not literally. A moment later, it beats again. And continues beating. I'm still here. Still thinking. I don't feel any pain.

I glance at Briony, expecting to see blood on her body, but she's okay, too.

It's Liam who's crumbled on the ground, red blossoming around his kneecap. What on earth?

And then chaos.

A dozen police officers storm the lawn, and my dad is running toward us, Sam at his shoulder.

My dad reaches me first and sweeps me in his arms. “Oh god, CeCe. My little girl. I thought I'd lost you.” He sobs. “I love you, sweetheart. I've always loved you. I just didn't know how to show it.”

My brain starts working again. The police must have shot Liam. They must have been waiting for an opening, and when Liam lowered his gun, they took their opportunity. I have no idea how they got here. No idea who called them. No idea what's going to happen next.

All I know is I'm safe now. And exactly where I'm supposed to be.

In my father's embrace. Hearing the words I never thought I'd hear again.