Living Lies

by Natalie Walters

  Lane’s chest constricted, forcing her to drag in a long, steady breath. She averted her eyes and pulled away from his touch. “It’s nothing. I’m fine.”

  Charlie studied her face. “You don’t look fine—I mean, you look good but . . . just upset. Like something’s wrong.”

  “I’m okay.” She took a deep breath and couldn’t meet his gaze. His ability to read her, to know . . . “I’m just, uh, running late.”

  She could tell by the way his eyebrows pinched together that he didn’t believe her, but the corner of his lip turned up and a sparkle filled his blue eyes. “I guess it’s good you ran into me. I wanted to ask—”

  A man with a camera anchored over his shoulder brushed past them and Lane remembered . . . this couldn’t happen. Whatever Charlie was going to ask, she couldn’t do it.

  “I need to go. I’m sorry, Charlie.” Lane knew the apology wasn’t enough, but it was impossible to say anything else over the sob trying to scratch its way out of her throat. Before Charlie could react, Lane started for the street and crossed it, leaving not only her father and the ugly truth of her past behind but also Charlie.

  Charlie’s muscles tightened. He ran his hand over his head again. Running into Lane in her distraught state had him on edge. Her lack of explanation and quick escape consumed his thoughts most of the afternoon.

  Until now.

  An eerie quiet settled over the sheriff’s office. It was bad enough a murder had taken place in their town, but it was unthinkable to realize a neighbor or best friend might be involved.

  “The license plate number on the car in the video is registered to Jolene’s father, but the car is insured under Jolene’s name.” Charlie handed Sheriff Huggins a file.

  “What are these?”

  “Screenshots of Twitter posts made by Jolene and her friend Annabeth Mendoza the week before Sydney’s disappearance and death. The last sheets are the postings the two girls made after the discovery of Sydney’s body.”

  Sheriff Huggins’s face grew grimmer the further he read. “‘I thought we were best friends, but you go behind my back. How dare you. Betrayal is worse than a stab in the back. Favorite Shakespeare play Julius Caesar. Time doesn’t heal all wounds.’” Sheriff Huggins adjusted the reading glasses on his nose. “Jolene Carson posted these?”

  “Yes, you can see her name in the corner of each post, along with a time and date stamp. They were all posted before Sydney was killed, but there’s one posted the day before Lane discovered her body.”

  “‘You can never take it back.’” Sheriff Huggins turned to the last sheet. “‘Rest in peace, Sydney. My heart is broken, but I know our friendship will last forever. Worst day ever.’ These ones are recent.”

  “Sir.” Deputy Wilson tapped on the door. “Jolene Carson and her mother are here.”

  “Escort them to the interrogation room.” Sheriff Huggins’s gray eyes clouded into a murky mess of determination, dread, and disbelief. “Are you ready?”

  “Yes, sir,” Charlie said.

  “Let’s find out the truth.”

  Would Jolene tell the truth this time? The young girl, wearing a T-shirt and sweatpants, walked stiffly down the hall. More clothes than the last time. Her mother, however, looked like she was ready for a date in her tight blazer, skinny jeans, and very tall heels.

  “I hope there’s a good reason why I had to take Jo out of school in the middle of the day. I thought he”—Jolene’s mom lifted her chin toward Charlie—“already asked all the questions.”

  “Some new information has surfaced and Deputy Lynch would like to ask a few more questions.” Sheriff Huggins stood in the doorway, his eyes fixed on Jolene, who kept rubbing her arm. “Would you like an attorney present?”

  “We didn’t need one the last time,” Jolene’s mom scoffed. “As long as we hurry this up. I’ve got a nail appointment at four.”

  A few more seconds ticked by before Sheriff Huggins excused himself, along with Deputy Wilson. They would be in the next room watching the interview through the two-way mirror.

  “Just like before, our conversation will be recorded.” Charlie sat and placed his notebook and file on the table before pointing to the camera perched in the corner of the room. “Any objections?”

  Jolene shook her head. Her mother said no.

  “How are you doing, Jolene?”

  “I’m okay,” she answered slowly.

  “Good. Like Sheriff Huggins said, we’ve come across some new information we’d like to ask you about.” He opened the file and pulled out the same paper the sheriff had read from just minutes earlier. “Is this your Twitter account?”

  Jolene leaned across the table. “Yes.”

  “Do you remember posting these comments?”

  “Yes.” Jolene leaned back and crossed her arms. “Why?”

  “What about these?” He laid out still shots of the self-storage video surveillance side by side. “Do you recognize anything?”

  Her blue eyes flicked down at the images for a second. Her mother leaned over and picked up one photo, then another. She gasped. “That’s Sydney.”

  Charlie lifted his eyebrows, waiting for Jolene’s answer.

  “It’s Sydney,” she agreed.

  “Do you recognize anything else?”

  “I don’t think so.”

  “What about now?” Charlie pulled another set of photos. He placed the enhanced images of the car and license plate number on top of the others.

  Ms. Carson smirked. “That’s your car.” Suddenly, a frown displaced the smirk. “Wait. That’s your car?”

  Jolene bit her lip.

  “Is that your car?” He stared at the teenage girl trying to sink into the chair. Her eyes flashed to her mother and back to him. “Jolene?”

  “Yes, I’m sorry. I should’ve told you, but I was scared. It was supposed to be a joke. We never thought she’d get hurt, but—”

  “We?”

  “Annabeth and I.” Jolene glanced at her mom, who was stock-still. “It was a joke. Sydney was blowing us off. Keeping secrets. We would never have left her if we knew she . . .”

  “Tell me what happened,” Charlie said.

  “We thought she’d call her mom or dad or whoever she’d been spending so much time with. It was a joke.”

  “You were with Sydney the night she disappeared.”

  “Yes.” Jolene swallowed.

  “Was Annabeth with you?”

  “No. I was supposed to pick her up, but then she called and said her parents were being jerks and wouldn’t let her hang out.”

  “But you said Annabeth was with you and Sydney?”

  “Yeah.” Jolene rubbed her arm, glancing at her mom from the corner of her eye. “Annabeth snuck out of the house later. I picked her up.”

  “What time?”

  “It was dark. I don’t know, maybe ten or eleven.” Jolene fidgeted in the chair.

  Getting her to talk was like pulling teeth, which usually meant there was more to the story. Jolene was holding back. “What happened next?”

  “We wanted to know where Sydney was going and who she was hanging out with. Why she kept ditching us. She wouldn’t tell us, so we sort of, um, we told her if she didn’t we’d leave her out there.”

  “You did what?” Ms. Carson emerged from her stupor.

  “Out where?” Charlie continued. He didn’t want Jolene to get distracted or change her story for fear of getting in trouble with her mom.

  “There’s an old gas station on Coastal Highway. A lot of kids go there and get high or drunk.”

  “Was anyone else there?”

  “No. We were by ourselves.”

  “What were you doing?”

  “Drinking.” Jolene bit her lip and glanced at her mom.

  Ms. Carson fell back against her chair in dramatic flair. “I assure you, Deputy, this is not how I raised her.”

  Jolene narrowed her eyes at her mom.

  “Just drinking?” Charlie asked.


  “Smoking too.”

  “Drugs or tobacco?”

  “Marijuana.”

  Another dramatic exhale came from Ms. Carson’s direction. Charlie slid forward in his chair. Finally, they were getting somewhere. “What happened next?”

  “When Sydney wouldn’t tell us her secret, Annabeth and I decided to play the joke. We ran to the car and locked the doors. Told Sydney if she didn’t tell us the truth, we’d leave her there. She refused, so we left. But we came back,” Jolene quickly added. “We just wanted to teach her a lesson, but she was gone. We figured she’d called someone to come get her.”

  “How long were you gone?”

  “I don’t remember. We drove down the road a little bit and finished the beers.” Jolene chewed on her thumbnail.

  Charlie studied the girl sitting in front of him. Something had been off in her first interview, but he wasn’t expecting this.

  “Is Jolene going to get in trouble for this?” Ms. Carson laughed. “I mean, it was a joke. The girls couldn’t have known what was going to happen.”

  “Did you drive yourself here, Jolene?”

  “Yes.”

  “Would you mind if I had a deputy look at your car?”

  “Why?” Ms. Carson’s gaze turned suspicious.

  “We’d like to search the car for Sydney’s cell phone. It’s missing. We’re hoping there might be a name or number in it that could lead us to the person Sydney had been talking with.”

  “Okay.” Ms. Carson’s shoulders relaxed. “But Jolene gets credit for helping you, right? Now you know where Sydney was before she was, um, killed.”

  Charlie set his jaw. “Is there anything I can get you? Some water? Coffee or a soda?”

  “Do you have cappuccino?” Ms. Carson pulled a lipstick tube and mirror from her purse, seemingly undisturbed by the fact he hadn’t answered her question.

  “Just black. Sugar and cream is available.”

  “Water is fine.” Jolene glared at her mother.

  “Yes, water is fine.” Ms. Carson pressed her lips together.

  Charlie rose from the table and opened the door to find Sheriff Huggins and Deputy Wilson waiting outside the room. Wilson held a forensics kit and two bottles of water. Jolene and her mother rose from their seats and followed the team of deputies to the parking lot. Sheriff Huggins fell in step at the rear. They stopped in front of the white Camry from the video. Jolene unlocked the door and shrank back behind her mom.

  “Deputy Lynch.” Wilson motioned him over to the front of the car.

  The right headlight was broken and a huge dent marred the right front bumper and part of the hood. Charlie kneeled down to get a closer look. There were a few brown spots.

  “Blood?” Wilson said under his breath as he opened the kit. “Autopsy report said Sydney was hit by something before being stabbed. Maybe a car.”

  “Test it.”

  Another deputy searched the inside of the car while Wilson rubbed a cotton swab along one of the brown spots.

  “What’s he doing?” Jolene unfolded herself out of her mother’s shadow. “What’s he putting on my car?”

  “What happened to your car?” Charlie exchanged a pointed look with Sheriff Huggins, who joined Wilson at the front of the vehicle.

  “What?” Jolene’s eyes flashed. “I, uh, I hit a deer.”

  “When?”

  “Um, a couple of weeks ago. Is he taking pictures of my car? I thought you were looking for Sydney’s phone,” Jolene said, her voice squeaking.

  “Did you report the accident to your insurance company?”

  “Why?” Jolene wrinkled her brow.

  “We need to verify the date of the accident.”

  “It was a couple of weeks ago.” Ms. Carson shaded her eyes with her hand. “I can’t remember the exact day, but she came home very upset. The car was a gift from her father. We only have liability coverage.”

  Wilson whispered something to Sheriff Huggins. The steadfast lawman gave an almost imperceptible nod and stepped forward.

  “Ms. Carson, we tested a spot on the car and it came back positive for blood—”

  “She just told you she hit a deer.” Ms. Carson stalked to the front of the car. “It’s probably deer blood.”

  “We need to impound the car and have our experts run tests on it.”

  “What? No! I need my car.” Jolene paced in front of her car. “It’s my blood. After I hit the deer, I checked to see the damage and cut my finger on the broken glass.”

  “Is that really necessary?” Ms. Carson put her hand on Jolene’s trembling shoulder. “She told you the truth. She had nothing to do with that girl’s death.”

  Charlie’s ears piqued at Ms. Carson’s choice of words. Her daughter’s best friend was now “that girl.” Interesting.

  “Why can’t you just do the test here?” Jolene whined. “I’ll even give you a sample of my blood.”

  “Stop talking.” Ms. Carson opened her purse and pulled out a cell phone. “I’m calling my lawyer.”

  Jolene stamped her foot. “I have to get my stuff—” Wilson stood in her way. “What are you doing? Move!”

  “Nothing can be moved from the vehicle.” Wilson’s voice was low. He was not impressed with the teenager’s tantrum.

  Tears fell over her cheeks. Were they real? During their first interview, Jolene was able to control the waterworks at the blink of an eye.

  “We’ll take an inventory of the items this afternoon and call you to come pick up your belongings after that,” Sheriff Huggins said.

  “What about her schoolbooks?”

  “We’ll get those back to you as well. Now, let’s go inside and fill out the paperwork.” Sheriff Huggins held his hand up toward the station.

  “Come on, Jolene. I can’t believe we came here to help and now we’re being treated like criminals.”

  They ushered a distraught and red-faced Jolene back into the station, along with her mother who was making sure her side of the conversation with her lawyer could be heard by all.

  Sheriff Huggins excused Charlie to fill out the paperwork while he handled Ms. Carson and Jolene. The gesture would’ve been appreciated more if Charlie’s mind wasn’t distracted with worry over Lane. What had her so upset outside the courthouse earlier? And the way she looked at him . . . almost mournfully. That bothered him the most. He told her she had time to think—maybe that was it? Maybe a future with him wasn’t in Lane’s future? Charlie swallowed. That wasn’t the outcome he wanted or had hoped for. But could he accept it?

  Charlie stared at the mountain of paperwork stacked in front of him. It was Friday, but he knew he’d be pulling another late night. He tapped his fingers on the desk. If he hustled, he might be able to get the majority of it done and still catch Lane before she closed up after Friday Night Club. But what if he was too late? The thought sent his heart plummeting. Pushing back from his desk, he grabbed his hat. He’d stay up as late as necessary to finish the job, but right now his first priority was Lane.

  SIXTEEN

  LANE OPENED UP another package of buns and counted the last few patrons of the Friday Night Club who were waiting for their plates.

  “I think our little club is getting more and more popular.” Ms. Byrdie scooped up potato salad and put it on a plate before using another spoon for the macaroni and cheese. “All these folks needing a home-cooked meal for the soul.”

  A little girl, the youngest of the group, with stringy blonde hair and deep brown eyes edged toward the pans of Ms. Byrdie’s banana pudding.

  “Would you like some more dessert?” Lane asked.

  “Samantha.” A woman with the same dark eyes came to the counter, her cheeks pink. “I’m sorry, ma’am. She’s already had her serving.” The mother tried to take her daughter’s hand, but the little girl’s pleading eyes looked up at Lane.

  “We have plenty. If she wants more of anything, y’all are welcome to it.” Lane looked to Ms. Byrdie, who nodded. “In fact, I think we may have en
ough extras for you to take some home with you.”

  A sheen covered the woman’s eyes before she gave a tight smile and then took the bowl of pudding Ms. Byrdie held out to her. The woman and her daughter returned to their table, where a man scooped up the little girl into his lap.

  “I don’t recognize them,” Lane whispered.

  “They’re from Blythe County,” Dottie said as she walked up behind Lane, carrying a pitcher of freshly brewed tea. “That’s Billy, his wife, Chrissy, and their little girl, Samantha. They’re having a rough time of it and Harley invited them—hope that was okay.”

  Lane nodded. “Of course.” She studied the family. Nothing on the outside to indicate they were having “a rough time of it,” but the mother had a distant look in her eyes that Lane recognized. A look that said there was so much more to the façade.

  “You alright, honey?” Ms. Byrdie asked. “You’ve been awful quiet since you got back this afternoon.”

  “Hmm?” Blinking, Lane saw that both Dottie and Ms. Byrdie were watching her. “What?”

  “Everything okay, sugar?”

  “Oh, yes.” Lane sighed. “Miguel’s a no-show again.”

  Ms. Byrdie looked around. “Yeah, I noticed that too.”

  “And where’s Harley?” Lane wiped some stray macaroni from the counter. “I want to thank him for smoking all of this pork.”

  “Girls, I didn’t tell you? Harley’s at the hospital.”

  “What?” Lane stopped.

  “Decided to fillet his hand instead of the fish.”

  “Is he alright?”

  “Fifty-five stitches. He said one for each year of life he saw flash before his eyes.”

  “That’s terrible, Dottie. I’m so sorry.” Lane looked down at the tray of smoked meat. “How did he—”

  Dottie shook her head. “He put the meat in early this morning before his fishing trip. He kept calling me from the hospital. I think most of County General knows how to smoke a pig now.”

  “Well, it’s delicious. You did a great job.”

  “Don’t you go telling Harley that. He’ll have his feelings hurt.”

  Dottie, Ms. Byrdie, and Lane shared a laugh as they served second helpings until everyone was satisfied. Lane had just begun to clean up when the door to the Way Station Café opened, letting in a blast of the day’s high temperatures and a familiar face that turned her insides warm and disoriented her thoughts.