The Liar

20

They did have fun.

Griff fashioned a monster face out of cardboard and, donning it, chased a thrilled Callie around the front yard. She brought him down with the magic wand he cobbled together from some tubing and more cardboard.

As the restored prince, he answered the first text from Shelby.

At the hospital now—everything’s going well. Okay there?

He considered for a moment.

We’re great. We’re heading out now to find some traffic to play in.

He took Callie in for a Coke, and judged by her wide, shiny eyes Coke wasn’t something on her usual beverage menu. It took a solid half hour to run off her Coke high. Breathless and wiser, he loaded the kid back in the van and took her for a quick drive for a pack of juice boxes.

That had to be a better option.

He spotted the sign Pups For Sale, decided a stop there would entertain her for a while, and pulled up in front of the compact rancher next to the little market.

Following the arrow on the sign, he took the gravel path around the back.

In a kennel, clean and dry, three cream-colored pups and one brown pup came instantly to life, yipping, racing toward the fencing, wagging chubby bodies.

Callie didn’t squeal and rush toward them as he’d expected.

She gasped, then pressed both hands to her mouth.

Then she turned her head, tipped her face up to Griff’s. And her eyes were full of wonder and love and immeasurable joy.

He thought, Oh shit, what have I done?

Then she threw her arms around his legs, squeezed. “Puppies! I love you, Griff. Thank you, thank you.”

“Well, ah, listen . . . I thought we’d just—”

While he fumbled, she tipped her face up again, all but blinded him with her shining joy before she broke off to, at last, rush the fence.

A woman, a baby on her hip, a red kerchief tied around her hair, stepped out of the back door of the rancher.

“Afternoon,” she said while the baby eyed him suspiciously.

“Hey. We were just at the market, and I thought she’d get a kick out of seeing the pups.”

“Why, sure. You want to go in, honey? They’re as friendly as they can be. Three months old now,” she continued as she opened the gate for Callie. “Had a litter of eight. Mama’s our Lab-retriever mix Georgie, and the daddy’s my cousin’s chocolate Lab.”

Callie ran in, dropped, and was immediately buried in puppies.

“That’s a happy sound, isn’t it?” the woman said as Callie’s giggles mixed with the yips and fake growls.

“Yeah . . . but—”

“They’re a good mix with kids, Daddy,” she said with a smile as she juggled the baby. “Gentle and loyal and playful.”

“Oh, I’m not her father. Her mother’s sister-in-law’s having a baby, pretty much now, so I’m watching Callie for a while.”

“Griff! Griff, come see. Come see the puppies.”

“Yeah, okay.”

“You go on, take your time. She’s got a good way with them. Lot of kids her age want to pull tails and ears or cart a pup around in a choke hold, but it looks like she knows how to be gentle and playful. They’re going to go fast now,” she added, as the baby decided Griff passed muster and offered a wide, drooling grin. “I just put the sign up this morning. The first four were already spoken for. I don’t sell them till they’re full weaned, had their shots and the vet clears them.”

“I’m not really . . . I mean, I thought about getting a dog. Later. Once I’ve got my place more under control.”

The woman narrowed her eyes. “You’re the one bought the old Tripplehorn place. The one who works with Emma Kate’s boyfriend. Emma Kate and Doc Pomeroy delivered Lucas here right in the exam room at the clinic. I went in for my checkup, and he got in a powerful hurry then and there. Wasn’t time to head to the hospital. Is that Shelby Pomeroy’s little girl?”

“Yeah.”

“I should’ve figured from the hair. You decide you want one of the pups, I’ll do half price, seeing as the little girl’s granddaddy and your partner’s lady helped bring my boy into the world.”

“Oh, well . . . that’s—”

“Griff, come play with the puppies!”

“You go on. I’ll be around.”

He took the brown dog.

He drew the line at Callie’s helpful name suggestions. He would not name his dog Fifi in honor of her best stuffed friend. Or Donkey in honor of Shrek’s best pal.

He hit on Snickers because of the chocolate, then had to go back to the market and buy one so Callie got the connection. He had to buy puppy food, a dish, a leash, a collar, dog treats.

By the time they loaded up again, with the puppy exploring the inside of the van, Griff’s ears were ringing.

Shelby’s next text came through as he lifted Callie out of the van, and she and the pup took off running.

Gilly’s doing great. She’ll be pushing soon. Nearly there. Let me know how it’s going if you’re done playing in traffic.

He started to text about the puppy, even though it all felt a little bit like a dream, then opted against.

Playing in traffic made us hungry. We want a snack so we’re going to hunt up strangers with candy. Go Gilly.

Babies come in their own time, and Beau Sawyer Pomeroy came into the world at seven-eleven—a lucky hour, according to his daddy—at a healthy seven pounds and twelve ounces. Shelby took time to admire him—the spitting image of her brother—dig out more tissues for her mother, and hug the proud parents.

She sent another quick text: It’s a boy! Beau Sawyer’s beautiful, Mama and Daddy happy and well. On my way back soon.

By the time she managed to say all her goodbyes and navigate traffic out of Gatlinburg, the sun sat low. She considered stopping to text again, see if Griff wanted her to pick up any food, but decided surely they’d eaten something by now.

She pulled up beside her van, thought, What a day.

When no one answered her knock, she had a moment of concern, ordered it away. Easing the door open, she called out, then cocked her ear at the familiar sounds.

Shrek.

Shaking her head, she started back toward the great room.

Shrek and Donkey argued on the big screen. On the sofa, her little girl lay sprawled over Griff. Both of them were sound asleep.

She nearly screamed when something wet and cold hit her ankle. Looking down, she saw a fat brown puppy who immediately attached its teeth and interest to the laces of her hiking boots.

“Oh, no you don’t.” She picked up the pup, gave it a long look. “Just where did you come from?”

“Right down the road,” Griff said, opening sleepy eyes.

“Whose dog is it?”

“I guess it’s my dog. It just sort of happened. Snickers.”

“I’m sorry, what?”

“His name. Snickers. Chocolate Lab–golden retriever mix.”

“He couldn’t be cuter.” Amused, charmed, she cuddled the pup in while he lapped lovingly at her chin. “Did you look at the size of his feet?”

“No. Not especially.”

“You’re going to have one big dog here.” She smiled as Snickers switched to her cheek, wiggled happily in her arms. “Which one wore you out? Callie or the dog?”

“I think we wore each other out. Baby world okay?”

“It’s perfect. Beau Sawyer, if you didn’t get my last text. Healthy, beautiful, and the family’s all beaming. I can’t thank you enough, Griff, for keeping Callie so I could be there. It meant the world to me.”

“We had fun. What time is it?”

“It’s about eight-thirty.”

“Okay, we probably crashed about twenty minutes ago.”

“Did you get something to eat? I should’ve—”

“There was chicken left from the picnic,” he interrupted. “And I did some mac and cheese because you can’t go wrong. Had some frozen peas I mostly use as an ice bag, but they worked.”

He stroked Callie’s back as he spoke, as he shifted. She rolled over like a bundle of rags.

“She’s out.”

“It’s been a happy day for her. Me, too.” She set the dog down, and he bounced to Griff, went for the laces. Griff scooped the pup up in one arm, looked around and found the chew rope he’d made out of old cord. “Try this,” he suggested, and set the dog down with it.

“Did she talk you into that dog?”

“She didn’t have to say a word.” He glanced back where Callie slept, butt hiked in the air, one arm wrapped around Fifi. “It’s all in the eyes. I planned to get one, more like in the fall. Get a little more done around here first. So I just shifted up the timeline. Plus, he was on sale. Do you want some food? There’s still some mac and cheese. The chicken’s just a fond memory.”

“No, thanks. We ate here and there at the hospital. I need to get her home and in bed.”

“Maybe you could stay.”

Tempting, so tempting when his arms slid around her.

“I’d like that, and suspect Callie would, too. But not yet, Griff. Not quite yet.”

She could prolong the moment, her mouth on his. Then her head on his shoulder. “It’s been a good day.”

“Red letter.”

He picked Callie up. She lay boneless over his shoulder while Shelby gathered the hamper, the bag. The dog raced out the door ahead of them, ran circles around the yard while Griff fixed Callie in her seat.

He watched them drive off with the western sky taking on the color of her hair. Then there was quiet.

He liked the quiet, he reminded himself, or he’d never have bought a place so far out of town. But it felt seriously quiet after hours of a little girl’s chatter.

He looked down to where Snickers was busy attacking his laces.

“Cut that out.” He had only to shake his foot. “Let’s make the rounds.”

They made the rounds again twice more before midnight. He’d worked too hard on the floors he’d refinished to have them ruined by a puppy.

Considering sleeping arrangements, he fashioned a temporary dog bed out of a box, some old towels, and tied another towel into a puppy-like shape. Snickers wasn’t immediately sold, but the excitement of the day did its work. With the pup as conked as Callie had been, Griff considered it a job well done, and dropped into bed himself.

He didn’t know what woke him. The clock read two-twelve, and when he checked by the flashlight app of his phone, Snickers remained curled in a ball in his box.

Though he opted to let sleeping dogs lie, something felt off. Off enough for him to walk quietly out of the bedroom. Listen.

Old houses groaned and creaked, he thought—he knew it well. And still he eased open a door, picked up a pipe wrench. Flipping on lights as he went, he started downstairs.

And there, just that . . . a faint click. A door closing.

He moved quickly now, straight toward the back and the glass doors.

He hit the lights, hit the outside floods.

He’d be spotlighted, but if anyone was out there, so would they.

He saw nothing, no movement.

Had he locked the back doors? He didn’t think so, as he rarely thought to. And with taking the pup in and out, he likely hadn’t.

He stepped out on the back porch, filtering out the night sounds, the breeze, the mournful call of an owl, the faint echo of a dog barking somewhere across the ridge.

He heard an engine turn over, the crunch of tires on gravel.

He stood for a while, looking out into the dark.

Someone had been in his house, he was damn sure of it.

He went in, locked the door—though it occurred to him since it was all glass, it wouldn’t take much if someone wanted in.

He scanned the area, looking for anything out of place.

His gaze passed over the laptop he’d left on the kitchen island, tracked back.

He’d left the top up—almost always did. But it was down now.

And when he walked over, put a hand on it, it felt slightly warm.

He lifted the lid, began to poke around. He was no computer geek, but he knew enough to get by.

It didn’t take long to discover someone had hacked in, downloaded his files. Bank, bills, e-mails, the works.

“What the fuck?”

He spent the next twenty minutes cursing and changing all his passwords, all his codes and user names. Anything he could think of.

What he couldn’t think of was what someone would want with his data.

He spent more time sending out an e-mail blast—friends, family, business contacts, anyone on his list—telling them his data had been compromised and not to respond to anything from his old e-mail address.

After checking every door and window, he took the laptop with him upstairs.

Better security, he thought, on his data, on his house, had just bumped up to top priority.

An hour after he’d woken, he tried to settle down again, listening to every creak, every rattle of wind. Just as he started to drift off, the dog woke and began to whimper.

“Yeah, it figures.” He shoved up, pulled on pants again. “Might as well make the rounds, Snickers.”

When he did, the beam of his flashlight picked up a clear footprint in the soft ground beside the gravel of his drive.

• • •

“YOUR BLACK EYE’S just fading, and you had a break-in?”

Matt dealt with touching up the paint while Griff installed the last of the trim in Ada Mae’s new master bath.

“More of a walk-in. Pain in the ass having to change passwords, send out notifications, then spend damn near an hour in the police station this morning with the report. Doesn’t make sense, and I’d’ve put it down to house-settling noises if it hadn’t been for the laptop being closed.”

“You’re sure you left it open?”

“Sure enough. Plus it was warm, and I hadn’t used it in hours. Then the footprint. It wasn’t mine, Matt. Size twelve here, but this was bigger. And I heard a car.”

“What did the cops say?”

“That’s another reason I’m late getting here. I went back with Forrest, and he took a look around, took pictures of the footprint, for all the good that’ll do. It wasn’t straight vandalism. I’d already figured if it had been, to look for someone in Arlo Kattery’s family or one of his pals.”

“Well, it’s not like you’re rolling in it, but you’re pretty well set. Somebody figured, hey, this guy bought this big old place, and he’s driving a new truck.”

“Because that asshole wrecked my old one.”

“Still.” Matt shook Snickers from his boot laces, gave the tennis ball Griff had dug up a little kick to send the pup chasing it. “It sounds like somebody figured they could siphon off from your accounts, something like that.”

“They’re out of luck on that now. Pisses me off, somebody walking into my house like that. Looks like getting a dog was . . . fortuitous. Word of the day.”

“Fortuitous my ass.” Matt grinned, gave the ball another gentle kick. “How many times have you cleaned up after him so far?”

“A couple.” Maybe five or six. “But he’s getting it. He’s going to be a good job dog. He doesn’t freak at the nail gun. And he’s going to get big. A big dog puts off people who want to walk into your house at two in the fucking morning. You ought to get one, then he’d have a pal.”

“Living in an apartment, remember?” Matt climbed onto the stepladder with brush and bucket. “I’m thinking about maybe starting a house, though.”

“You’ve been thinking about maybe starting a house since we got here.”

“I’m thinking more since I’m going to ask Emma Kate to marry me.”

“If you’re going to do that, you should . . . What?” Griff nearly bobbled the nail gun as he came straight up on his knees. “When? Wow.”

“Yeah, I know.” With a slightly dazed look in his eyes, Matt grinned. “While you were dealing with the cops this morning, I was watching Emma Kate get ready for work. She’s making green smoothies, and—”

“Don’t mention your famous green smoothies.”

“If you’d drink one every morning, you’d reap the benefits.”

“I don’t understand people who eat kale, much less drink it. You decided you wanted to marry her because of green smoothies?”

Matt pushed up the brim of his ball cap, and now dazed became dreamy. “I looked at her. She’s barefoot, and a little grumpy, hadn’t done her makeup yet. She’s wearing khakis and a blue top, and the sun’s shining through the window. I thought, This is what I want, every morning.”

“Grumpy Emma Kate and green smoothies?”

“Every morning. I can’t see past a time I don’t want just that. So I thought you’d go with me after work to buy a ring. I’m going to ask her tonight.”

“Tonight?” That was enough to bring Griff fully to his feet. “You’re serious? Don’t you want a setup?”

“I’ll get some flowers. The ring’s the setup. I don’t know her size, but—”

“Make a template. Go back home, dig out one of her rings, make a template to take to the ring place.”

“I should’ve thought of that.”

“What are you going to say?”

“I don’t know.” Matt shifted on the ladder. “I love you, will you marry me?”

“You gotta do better than that, man.”

“You’re making me nervous.”

“We’ll think about it. Go make the template.”

“Now?”

“Yeah, now. I’ve got to take the dog out anyway before he pees on the new tile. We’re taking a break.” All in with the plan, Griff gave his partner a punch on the shoulder. “Jesus, Matt, you’re getting married.”

“If she says yes.”

“Why wouldn’t she?”

“Maybe she doesn’t want me and green smoothies every day.” Matt stepped down from the ladder. “I feel a little sick.”

“Knock it off. Go, make the template.” Griff grabbed the dog, who’d begun to sniff in a way that warned Griff peeing was imminent. “I’ve got to take him out. Take action. It’s the only way to get what you want.”

“I’m taking action.”

• • •

SHELBY SQUEEZED IN A REHEARSAL. She felt good about her mix of music—from the Beatles to Johnny Cash to Motown. Of course, if she had an actual accompanist, she’d have slowed down the pace of “Ring of Fire,” done it as a sexy, aching ballad.

Maybe down the road, she thought as she finished up her morning stint at the salon. She took lunch orders from some of the spa patrons, then rounded up some from the staff.

As she tucked away her list, grabbed her bag, Jolene stepped cautiously inside.

“I’m sorry. Miz Vi? Miz Vi, can I come in for just a quick minute? Not for service or anything. I— I talked to Reverend Beardsly, and he said I should come, and speak to you, if you’d let me.”

“All right, Jolene.” Giving Jolene a nod, Viola pulled the last of the foil from her customer’s hair. “Dottie, will you shampoo Sherrilyn for me?”

“Sure will, Miss Vi.” Dottie and Sherrilyn exchanged wide-eyed looks. Neither of them wanted to miss the show.

“Do you want to go in my office, Jolene?”

“No, ma’am, Miz Vi. I’d like to say what I need to say right out here, in front of everybody.” Her face went pink as she spoke, her eyes damp, but to the relief of some, the disappointment of others, she didn’t blubber.

“I want to say to you, Miz Vi, and to you, too, Shelby . . . I— I want to say first I’m so awfully sorry. I want to apologize, to say I’m so sorry for how I acted here the last time. And . . .”

Her voice trembled, tears brimmed, but she held up a hand as she took a couple of deep breaths. “I’m sorry for the other times I was rude or mean to your face or behind your back. All of them, Shelby, right back to fifth grade. I want to say, I’m ashamed of it, all of it, looking at it now in the clear. I so wanted Melody to be my friend, and I did things I’ve got no excuse for.”

A couple of tears spilled over, but Jolene twisted her fingers together and kept going. “I knew about what she did to your car, Shelby, back in high school? I didn’t know before she did it, and I didn’t do it. I swear I’d tell you now if I had.”

“I believe you.”

“But I knew after, and I didn’t say anything. I knew and I pretended I thought it was funny, and how you deserved it. I just wanted her to be my friend, but I know she never was, not really. I know that now, and it makes it worse. What she said that day in here, to you, Shelby, about you, about your baby girl, I should’ve stood up. It made me sick inside what she said, but I didn’t stand up and say that was wrong. I hope saying it now is a start to what Reverend Beardsly says is making amends. I was only thinking of me, and I’m sorry.”

She sniffled, heeled away tears from her cheeks. “I didn’t know she went to Arlo that way. I should’ve known, and I can’t say, not for sure, if somewhere deep down I did. I didn’t look deep down because I didn’t want to. And I don’t know, not for sure, if I’d have stood up even then. That’s shameful, not to know if I would have stood up.”

“You did stand up,” Shelby reminded her. “When you found out what happened to Griff.”

“I was that shocked and upset. Seeing Griff’s face all cut and bruised, hearing what happened. I couldn’t . . . I couldn’t be quiet, not then.”

“Jolene, I’m going to ask you something, and I want you to look me in the eye.” Viola waited for Jolene to blink her eyes clear. “Do you know anything about somebody going into Griffin’s house last night, middle of the night?”

“Oh my gosh! Oh no, ma’am, Miz Vi.”

“What happened?” Shelby demanded. “What—” And broke off when Viola held up a finger.

“I promise, Miz Vi. I swear.” Jolene crossed her hands over her heart. “It couldn’t have been Melody. She’s already in that place, in Memphis. I went to see Miz Florence just this morning, to make my amends to her, and she told me. Did somebody hurt him again? Did somebody rob him?”

“No.” Viola looked over at Shelby. “No. Looks to be not much of anything, and I expect all of us here know if it was one of the Kattery clan, they’d have busted the place up if they could.”

Viola fisted a hand on her hip. “Is there anything else you have to say, Jolene?”

“I guess not. Just I’m sorry. I’m going to try to be a better person.”

“You never had much gumption,” Viola observed. “Here’s the first time I’ve seen you show any, and you did a good job of it. I’m going to say, I’m lifting my ban on you, and you’re free to come in here when you like.”

“Oh, Miz Vi. Thank you, Miz Vi. I . . . I won’t come in if you’d rather I didn’t, Shelby.”

“I hope I can accept an apology the same as my grandmother.”

“I want to give one to your mama, too. She wasn’t here, but . . . I want to just the same.”

“She’s busy right now, but you can tell her later on.”

“Then I will.”

“It’s up to Crystal if she wants to do your hair for your wedding,” Viola added.

“Oh, Miz Vi. Oh, Crystal, would you? Losing you’s almost as bad as losing my fiancé. And I really do love him.”

“Of course I will. You made me real proud today, Jolene.”

On a sob, Jolene rushed over, flung herself at Crystal.

“There you are now. I’m going to take you back, get you a nice cold drink.”

“I was so scared to come in. I was so scared.”

“That just makes me even prouder.” Crystal beamed a smile at Viola, and led Jolene into the back.

“Dottie, get that shampoo done now. Show’s over.”

Shelby turned straight to her grandmother. “Granny, what happened at Griff’s?”

“What I said. Somebody went in there. He says, what I got he says,” she corrected, “is they went into his laptop computer. That’s all I know. You oughta ask him.”

“I will. I’ve got to get these lunch orders in.” She glanced toward the back. “Some of us have to get knocked hard to come back. I know how that is. This might be the making of her.”

“She’s a flighty one, and likely always will be. But I respect a well-given apology. You go on now, or those customers will be shouting us down for their lunch order. I ought to think about putting in a little café.”

It wouldn’t have surprised Shelby in the least. But for now, she dashed out.

She wanted to call Griff, but couldn’t spare the time as she rushed to Sid and Sadie, gathered up the orders, made a beeline for the Pizzateria, did the same. Loaded, she hurried back toward the salon.

And nearly slammed into a man studying one of the area maps.

“I’m so sorry! I wasn’t looking where I was going.”

He smiled down at her. “Neither was I. You’ve got a healthy appetite.”

It took her a moment, then she laughed. “Delivery service.”

“Then you must know the area.”

“Born and bred here, so, yes, I do. Are you lost?”

“Not exactly. I’m visiting the area for a few days. I wanted to try the Rendezvous Trail, hit Miller’s Waterfall, Bonnie Jean Overlook, Dob’s Creek. I came into town thinking I’d get a takeaway lunch, and I’ve gotten turned around.”

“I can help you with that.” She angled around to look at the map. “If you take this road, the one we’re on, straight out of town, go on past the big hotel and take the left fork. See that?”

“Yeah.” Peering down, he nodded slowly. “Okay.”

She guided him through, suggested Sid and Sadie for his packed lunch.

“I sure do appreciate it.”

“You’re welcome, and you enjoy your time here in the Ridge.”

“I will.”

When she hurried off again, he folded the map and slid it into his pocket, along with the keys he’d lifted neatly out of her purse.