Familiar Lies (16 page)

“Find anything?” Max asked.

“Not sure. He has a lot of contacts in here, so I’m not sure what’s important. I’m going through his text messages now.” She paused, reading the screen before looking up at him. “I found something.”

“What?”

“It’s cryptic, but I think it’s about us.”

“What does it say?”

“Someone asked if he picked up the eggs and milk. Smith replied that he hadn’t yet, but would take care of it within a few hours.”

Max gave her a wry look. “You don’t need to be a super sleuth to know that means killing us. What’s the name of the contact?”

“Mister W.”

“What the hell does that mean?”

“I guess we’ll need to find that out.” Liz turned the phone off and slid it into her purse. “We need to go.”

“One thing first,” Max said. “I’m taking that dead cop’s gun.”

“Smith?”

“No, the other one. The guy hanging in there.”

“Is that such a good idea?”

Max pointed to Smith’s body. “Does that really matter anymore?”

“I guess not.”

Max walked to the cabin and slipped in through the door. The place was exactly as they’d found it the previous night, including Detective Andrew Paul’s hanging, desiccated corpse. Max retrieved the man’s service revolver and placed it in his waistband. The rope made eerie creaking sounds as the body swung slightly after being disturbed. Max shivered as he exited the cabin.

Liz was already in her car when he emerged. She waved him forward as she started up the engine. Max got in, placing the revolver on the floorboard beside his feet. He stared at the cabin and Smith’s body lying in front. “Let’s get the fuck out of here.”

Liz dropped the transmission into drive. “You don’t have to tell me twice.” She pulled away, heading back onto the pitted dirt road and away from the cabin.

Max was convinced that they’d encounter another car as they made the long trek down the dirt road and back toward civilization. He could see it in his mind; a black Lincoln Towncar, its windows tinted and the occupants obscured, blocking the way. The doors would open and Caldwell would get out in his white suit, accompanied by his hired thugs. They’d draw their guns and Max’s existence would wink out in an instant, replaced by the long sleep of death.

But none of that happened.

Liz proved more adept at navigating the potholes and ruts on the dirt road in a Honda no more designed to handle such terrain than Max’s Volkswagen had been. Max found himself increasingly more impressed by this woman he’d only just met. He wondered if he was falling for her. The idea seemed preposterous, but he couldn’t shake the attraction. His rational mind knew that they’d simply been through a trauma together and that it was only human nature to be drawn to others with a shared history.

But, despite understanding the psychology, Max couldn’t stop remembering the way Liz had felt in his arms, the softness of her skin and the otherworldly womanly smell she possessed.

“We made it,” Liz said, pointing toward the paved, two-lane road ahead.

Max pulled himself back to the present. He couldn’t help but smile at the sight.

Liz steered the Honda onto the smooth pavement. Max watched the entrance to the dirt road become smaller in the side mirror. They rounded a curve and it disappeared for good. He was never so glad to see it go away.

“You didn’t go inside,” Liz said.

“What do you mean?”

“The cabin. You didn’t go in back there with Smith; I did. Did you know he was dirty or was it just dumb luck?”

In all the confusion Max hadn’t even considered the text message that had helped to save his life. “There’s something I haven’t told you.”

Liz looked at him suspiciously. “You told me you’d always be honest with me, Max.”

“I am being honest. I haven’t mentioned it because I really don’t know how to explain it. I thought maybe you’d think I was crazy or something.”

“Go on.”

Max retrieved his phone from his pocket. He pulled up the series of text messages from the unknown number and showed it to Liz.

Liz read the messages as she drove. “What the hell is this, Max?”

“I don’t know. I got the first one when I was in the basement of that flophouse; right after I left Caldwell showed up. Then I got the second one after my house got tossed. That’s the one that said someone was following me. I didn’t see anybody at the time, but I’ll bet it was Smith following me. I just never saw him.”

“And the last one was right before Smith tried to kill us,” Liz said.

“Yeah. But what makes it even weirder is that I wasn’t able to get service outside the cabin.”

“How could you have gotten a text then?”

Max shrugged. “I figured maybe it got stuck or something.”

“That’s not the way it works. If the carrier is having problems on their end then they’ll queue up the texts. Once the problem is cleared, the texts will all get sent, usually in a batch.”

“Say that in English.”

“What I’m saying is that your phone isn’t going to sit on a message and decide to show it to you later. It shows them right when it gets them, but you still need to have cell service to get a text in the first place.”

“Could a software glitch cause something like this?”

“Maybe, but I doubt it. Text message functionality is pretty well baked in. What you’re suggesting isn’t impossible, but it would be a major software bug. You and I have the same phone OS, so I’d likely be experiencing it too.”

“Are you some kind of IT geek or something?”

Liz grinned. “Something like that.”

“I thought that maybe Ruby was sending the texts, but there’s no way she could have sent that message.”

“Not unless it was queued from before last night, before she was…” Liz trailed off.

“If I tell you something do you promise not to write me off immediately?”

Liz shot him a quizzical look. “Go ahead.”

“Okay…I’m not some kind of crackpot, I promise. I don’t believe in mysticism or healing crystals or auras or any of that bullshit. I don’t even think I really believe in any kind of a god.” He paused, collecting his thoughts, unsure of how to say the next thing on his mind.

“Go on,” Liz said.

“I’ve had some weird experiences since this all started.”

“Weird how?”

“It’s stupid.”

“Go ahead.”

“My son, Josh. I’m not saying I’m seeing ghosts or anything, but I heard odd sounds coming from his room.”

“Houses make noise, Max. Especially old ones.”

“I know.” He hesitated, wondering just how much he could tell her. He decided to tell her everything. “I’ve seen things too.”

“What kind of things?”

“I’ve seen him.”

“Who?”

“My son.”

“Are you serious?”

“I saw him at The Hustle, in the parking lot.” He told her of seeing the vision of his dead son dart across under the lights and disappear into the shadows. “I’ve heard his voice too. Like he’s talking to me.”

“Are you saying you think the text messages are coming from your dead son? Like, from beyond the grave?”

“Not really. I don’t know. I just can’t explain what I’ve experienced.”

“You’ve been through a lot. That taxes a person.” Liz paused, thinking. “We both have.”

“So you think it’s my imagination then.”

“Maybe not, but probably. Granted, there’s a whole lot more in the world that we don’t know than we do know, but all things considered, I’m not apt to go with the ghost angle.”

“I’m not saying I’m convinced. I very likely could just be going crazy. Would a crazy person know they’re crazy?”

“I think you’re a reasonable person, Max. So as a reasonable person, what do you think is a more likely explanation for who might have sent those texts?”

“I can’t say.”

“Fair enough. My presumption is that somebody’s watching you. Somebody who knows what’s going on here and apparently has your back. This person either doesn’t want to get involved or they’re waiting to show themselves when they feel the time is right. Based on the track record so far, I think the next time you get a text from them you should listen to it.” She glanced at him, cocking her head to the side. “Have you tried texting this person back?”

“Not yet.”

“I think you should.”

Max thought about it. “Agreed.”

“Good. For now, we need a new base of operations. We can’t go back to your hotel room. We don’t know who Smith might have talked to. He had an entire night and the better part of a morning to work out his little plan. For all we know the cops might be in the room picking over everything. Hell, he might have planted evidence there and put out an A.P.B. or whatever on you and me both. Or those creeps he works for might be waiting for you to come back.”

“I guess you’re right.”

“I hope I’m not. Since neither of us can go home, we need a hotel room. I can reserve us one.”

The sound of a text message arriving came from Max’s pocket. He still had his phone in hand, so he looked at it. The screen was black and he realized the tone didn’t come from there.

He removed Smith’s phone and looked at the screen. “You’ll never guess who just texted our good detective.”

“Who?”

“Mister W.”

Liz glanced at the screen. “What’s it say?”

Max read the text. “He’s asking if it’s done.”

“Tell him it is. If this guy thinks we’re dead then it’ll hopefully buy us some time.”

Max tapped the on-screen keys and typed in a single word:
yes
.

A few tense minutes passed before a message appeared on the screen.
Good. I’ll be in touch
. Max read the message to Liz.

“Looks like he bought it,” Liz said. “Now we need to follow up with this Brandi chick. Text her and let’s set up a meeting.”

“What makes you think she’s going to agree to meet with us?”

“She won’t be meeting with us. She’ll think she’s meeting Smith.”

“What should I say to her?”

“Tell her that you had a great time and you’d like to see her again. Tell her you can’t stop thinking about her.”

“How do you know they had a thing going?”

Liz shot Max a look, raising her eyebrows. “There’s only one reason why a guy like Smith has the phone number of a girl named Brandi in his pocket. Trust me.”

Max started a new text message, typing in the number written on the matchbook. He typed up a message and tapped the send button. Two minutes later a response arrived.

“She said she wants to meet, but after work.”

“Ask her to give you a time and place.”

Max did. A reply came within a minute after.

“Two a.m., parking lot.” Max glanced at Liz. “We don’t know what parking lot she’s talking about. If I ask, we’ll likely spook her.”

Liz thought about it. “Tell her you have some business to tend to and you need to meet her at a bar called Peekies.”

“Peekies?”

“It’s a three o’clock bar. They’ll be open.”

Max texted the message and received a response.
Sure thing baby buy me a drink?

Liz glanced at the screen and grinned. “Bingo. Tell her to wear something red. That’ll help us find her.”

Max looked at her and smiled. “Good thinking.”

“This is the easy part. The hard part’s still to come.”

* * *

They bought a change of clothes at Target after returning to civilization, placing the charge on Max’s card. After that they picked up a quick dinner and checked into a hotel well away from the hotel room Max had reserved. They showered and found themselves lying in a single king size bed, both exhausted and silent from the stress of the day.

Max stared up at the ceiling and wondered if Liz had any intention of taking things any further than the kiss they’d shared at the cabin. Her snores answered that question.

It was probably for the best. Hopefully it would keep things simple. They needed to focus if they expected to live through this. But the feeling of her sleeping beside him, the repetition of her breathing and the smell of shampoo in her hair could not be ignored. He had no idea how any of this would turn out, but he was glad to not be facing it alone.

Sleep took him a few minutes later. As he slept, he dreamt of Josh’s tenth birthday party. In the dream his young son sat at the head of the table, a birthday cake with ten burning candles sitting in front of him. He smiled, his eyes alight with the kind of joy and happiness that only a child can feel. Max glanced at Katie and she smiled at him the way she used to.

When Max looked back at his son he’d somehow changed, replaced by a stranger Max didn’t recognize.

Then the dream dissipated as Max swam toward the light of consciousness and harsh reality.

Max awoke to the light of the setting sun as it spilled in between the closed set of curtains, slicing through the center of the room like a knife. Liz slept beside him, her mouth slightly open, her breathing steady. Her hair spilled over the pillow, a stray strand covering her right eye.

Max looked at her for a long time as he thought about the dream of his lost son.

Because that’s how it happened, hadn’t it? He’d lost Josh years before the fall that took his life. He’d lost both his son and his wife and he hadn’t even known it was happening. It was as if a fog lifted and he finally saw the shambles of his life around him. How long had it gone on like that? It all crept up so slowly that he hadn’t noticed.

He tossed the covers off and sat up. He rubbed the sleep out of his eyes and headed for the bathroom. When he returned he found Liz awake and staring at the curtains, her eyes focused on that sliver of light passing through.

“How did we end up here, Max? How did things get so bad?”

Max walked to the bed and sat on the edge near Liz’s feet. “I wish I knew.”

“Sometimes I wonder if I really want to know what happened to Amanda. I’m not fooling myself. I know she’s dead.”

“You don’t know that.”

She looked at him and smiled. “You don’t have to do that.”

“Be honest, right?”

“Honest.” She looked back at the window. “I don’t know why I need to know the details. I don’t know what it’ll do for me. It won’t bring her back.”