The Book of Lies

14

Wait— Okay, wait— Why would—?” I look around at my dad and Timothy, at this guy Ellis and his gun, and at the attack dog that’s perched in the front seat of my van. “What the crap is going on here?”

“Ask your father,” Ellis says. “Though good luck in getting the truth.”

“Me?” my dad asks, fighting to stand up straight but still holding his side. “I don’t even know who you—”

“My father was a liar, too,” Ellis says, pointing his gun at my dad. “He lied like you, Lloyd. Easily. Without even a thought.”

“Cal, I swear on my life, I’ve never seen this man.”

“That part’s true. You can tell the way his left hand’s shaking,” Ellis agrees as my dad grips his own left wrist. “But I saw you tonight, Mr. Harper. The way your son came to your aid, taking you to the hospital: He needs to rescue, doesn’t he? That was pretty fortunate for—”

“Hold on,” I interrupt. “You saw us in the park?”

A chorus of crickets squeals from the Everglades, and my father draws himself up straight, blocking the headlights and casting a shadow across both Ellis’s badge and his face.

“Calvin had no hand in this,” my dad says.

“Really? Then why was he so quick to get rid of that hold notice on your shipment?” Ellis challenges, motioning with his gun. He has handsome, chiseled features and the ramrod posture of an officer, but from the perfect Windsor knot of his uniform’s tie to the shine on that expensive belt he’s wearing, he’s got his eye on something bigger. “It’s pretty convenient having a son who used to be an agent, isn’t it, Lloyd?”

As they continue to argue, my brain swirls, struggling to— It’s like trying to fill in a crossword without any clues. For Ellis to know we got rid of the hold notice . . . For him to steal my van from the port and bring it out here . . . That’s the part I keep playing over and over. When I pulled up to the port, I checked half a dozen times—whoever this guy Ellis is, no matter how good a cop he is—there’s no way he was trailing me. But if that’s the case, for him to get my van— Once again, I run through the mental reel. Roosevelt’s at home, which means there’s only one other person who knew where it was parked. The one person who picked me up there. And the only other member of law enforcement who hasn’t said a single word since I got out of his car.

There’s a metallic click behind me. The swirling blue lights stab at my senses, and my stomach sags like a hammock holding a bowling ball.

“Sorry, Cal,” Timothy says as he cocks his gun behind my ear. “Once the twins were born . . . Those braces aren’t gonna pay for themselves.”