Convenient Lies

by Robin Patchen

“You have a few minutes?”

  “Just let me grab Johnny.” She ducked inside, grabbing the key from her pocket on the way. She dangled the key ring from her pinkie and grabbed the baby’s bouncer. She reached the heavy door, and Brady closed it behind her.

  She jingled the key ring. “Would you mind?”

  He locked it, and they started for the house. The rain had given way to a light drizzle.

  “Want me to carry him?” Brady asked.

  “He’s fine. Thanks, though.”

  They reached the house, and he tried the front door, but it was locked. He unlocked it and stood aside so she could step in. He closed the door behind them.

  “Lock that, would you?” she said.

  He locked it, then turned with one eyebrow raised.

  “Be right back.” Johnny was still sleeping, so she carried him upstairs and rested his bouncer in the middle of her bed.

  When she came back down, Brady was still standing in the foyer.

  “The other night,” she said, “did you say there’d been prowlers?”

  “What happened?”

  She led the way into the kitchen. “I’m going to make some coffee. It’s chilly in that barn. Want some?”

  “Sure.”

  She started on the coffee. “A couple of things had been moved around in the barn. Nothing obvious, but it was different.” She kept her voice level, as if the thought of strangers poking around her space didn’t scare her to death.

  “Anything missing?”

  She turned to him and smirked. “Seriously?”

  “Not that you could tell, I take it.”

  “For all I know, they nicked the family jewels.”

  He pulled a notebook and pen from his pocket. At least he was taking her seriously. He tapped the pen against the counter top. “Are there family jewels, Rae?”

  His question seemed so serious, she nearly laughed. And then she thought of Dad’s treasure and stopped herself. She shrugged.

  “Someone is looking for something.”

  “Why do you think that?”

  “If they were just looking to rob you, they’d have done it when the house was empty. Instead, they come in and search. I’ve never met a tidy thief before. But what you’re describing, Dorothy said the same thing. She knew someone had been here, but she didn’t think anything had been stolen.”

  “How often did it happen?”

  “I’d have to check the records at the station to be sure, but maybe...” He looked at the ceiling, then back at her. “Five times?”

  “Five times! Why didn’t she tell me?”

  “Why would she worry you?”

  Good point. “Any idea who it might be?”

  He tapped the pen again. “Nope. It’s strange, isn’t it, that they’re so polite? Leads me to believe they knew Dorothy. She was so kind to everyone.”

  “So if she was nice to these thieves, then why would they break into her barn?”

  “At first we thought maybe it was someone looking for a place to sleep. Not that we have a lot of vagrants around here, but you never know. But then, she suspected they’d been in her house.”

  The bottom dropped out of her stomach. She looked at the monitor, saw the red lights flickering up and down with her son’s steady breathing. “I should get an alarm.”

  “I thought you weren’t staying.”

  “I’m not, but until we go—”

  “Why can’t you stay?”

  Rae turned her back to him and grabbed two mugs. They fixed their coffees. She lifted her cup and sipped. It warmed her immediately. “I just assumed, when I saw you the other night... I don’t know anything about your life, Brady. You never married, right?”

  He turned the cup in slow circles on the counter. “We were talking about you.”

  “Where are you living? What’s your life like?”

  “I’m a detective. I live here.”

  “I don’t mean what town. I mean where? A house, an apartment? One of those new condos by the highway?”

  He sipped his coffee, set the cup down, and spun it again. “I’m not really a condo person. I was actually hoping to buy a house.”

  If only she could give him this one. Would he take care of it when she disappeared?

  He continued. “I rent a house out on Gilcreast.”

  Gilcreast. Even further out of town than this place. “You live alone?”

  He nodded.

  “How long?”

  “Since I moved back.”

  “You were in the service, right?”

  He took a not-so-patient breath. “For four years after college. MP in the Army. And then I worked in Boston.”

  “And then you came home. How come?”

  “We need to talk about you.”

  She couldn’t talk about her. And if this was all the time she was going to get with Brady, she wanted to learn something about him. “I’ve had my fill of my problems.”

  “Was I right about your husband’s name?”

  She sipped her coffee, considered lying to him, then didn’t. “Yes.”

  Brady tapped his fingers against mug. “Why did you leave him?”

  “Why did you move back to Nutfield?”

  “Look, this isn’t about me—”

  “Come on. It won’t hurt to tell me something about your life. You’re asking me to share all my secrets, but you won’t tell me anything about you.”

  “Who said you had secrets, Rae? I’m just trying to figure out what’s going on with you and your husband.”

  She turned toward the kitchen table but didn’t move to sit down. “That’s none of your business.”

  “You’re hiding from him. You’re scared.”

  She turned back and leaned against the counter. “I’m not scared—”

  “I know you too well.”

  Through the monitor, the baby cooed, quieted, and cooed again.

  “He’s hungry,” Rae said.

  “I’ll wait.”

  She looked at the monitor and willed the baby to make another noise. Silence.

  “What are you looking for in the barn?”

  She turned back to Brady. “I told you—”

  “A normal person would start going through the stuff in the house first, then tackle the barn.”

  “Since when have I been normal?”

  The baby cried. She set her cup on the counter. “I need your help.”

  He pushed himself off the counter. “That’s why I’m here. I want to help.”

  She tried to smile and knew he wouldn’t return it. “There’s a box in my parents’ room, and I can’t lift it. Would you get it down for me?”

  Through gritted teeth, he said, “Whatever.”

  He followed her up the stairs to her bedroom. She stepped inside. “Hey, baby.”

  Johnny turned toward her voice and quieted. He had to be the most beautiful child who’d ever lived. She lifted him, snuggled him close, and inhaled his baby scent. She got more than just the sweet smell of baby. She laid him on the towel she kept stretched on her bed and changed his dirty diaper, trying not to think about Brady, who was leaning against the door jamb, watching her.

  When Johnny was clean, she lifted him to her shoulder and straightened. “My parents’ room is—”

  “I remember.”

  “Right.” It was funny being here with him after so many years. Before her mother had lost her mind, she and Brady’s mom had been best friends, so Rae and Brady had grown up together. Samantha had made their group a threesome in kindergarten, and they’d been inseparable all through school. Until that terrible night.

  Rae followed Brady to her parents’ room. He went inside and peered into the open closet, stopping when his gaze reached the chest on the top shelf. “That?”

  “If you can. I can help, if you need me to.”

  He shook his head and stepped into the closet, then stepped back out. He looked down at the pile of shoes on the floor and turned to Rae with both eyebrows at attentio
n. “Seriously?”

  “Apparently Gram couldn’t part with their shoes.”

  “Apparently.” He crouched down and pulled shoes out of the closet, tossing them to the side.

  Rae held her baby and watched him work. Such a funny thing, lifting and tossing random shoes. Yet she couldn’t seem to turn away. Here was the man she’d been friends with since they were both Johnny’s age. Though she didn’t remember it, she figured they’d practiced crawling together, then walking, probably even potty trained at around the same time. She did remember the trouble they used to get into when they were together. Once, they’d managed to climb onto some boxes in Gram’s closet, through the hatch in the ceiling, and into the attic. They’d closed the hatch, then snickered while their mothers called their names frantically. Dust bunnies danced in the air and boxes were piled in all the corners as a tiny bit of sunlight streamed in through the hexagonal window. She might have been afraid, if not for Brady.

  When Brady’s mother had threatened to call his father, Brady tried to move the wood that served as the hatch, but it was stuck. Frantic, knowing his father would punish him, he’d shoved his little fingers into the narrow groove and tried to pull up the plywood. It wouldn’t budge.

  Suddenly, those dust bunnies had seemed alive, and the musty smell filled her nose until she thought she might choke. They screamed and yelled and pounded until Rae’s mother found them.

  Had they been five at the time? Maybe six?

  When Rae’s mother’s episodes had gotten worse, it had been Brady who’d encouraged her. When she’d struggled with math in seventh grade, Brady had tutored her. When she’d worried about her mother spending days at a time in bed, Brady had found a book on depression in the library. The book had been too advanced for her, but knowing her mother wasn’t the only woman in the world with mental problems had helped.

  Brady had done that.

  Now, as he lifted the chest from the top shelf, his grown-up muscles so much more impressive than his little-boy ones had been, she couldn’t take her eyes off of him. Brady had been her best friend and her lifeline. He’d always held her secrets. Her heart.

  Yes, he’d kissed Samantha. They’d taken refuge with each other after Rae had freaked out on them that night. Ten minutes, he’d said. Ten minutes, and the next day, Samantha’d confessed. He would have, too, if she hadn’t run away.

  He didn’t deserve the way she’d abandoned him.

  He wouldn’t trust her with the details of his life because she still hadn’t proved she trusted him with hers. Maybe she couldn’t stay, and maybe they could never be what they’d once been, but Brady could be trusted.

  And she really needed a friend.

  He turned, the heavy box bulging his biceps. “Where do you want it?”

  “Just set it on the bed.”

  He did, then wiped the dust off the top of the chest with his capable hands.

  Brady had stood by her through everything. She owed him so much, but right now, the truth was all she had to offer. At least she could give him that. She’d tell him everything.

  Twenty-Four

  Brady looked up from the chest to find Rae with a funny look on her face.

  “What?”

  She shook her head. “Thank you. I never could’ve gotten that down by myself.”

  “Glad you can admit you need help sometimes.”

  He expected a smirk, so the smile surprised him. He’d blame that sudden rush of warmth on the heavy lifting.

  “Let’s go back downstairs.” Her expression grew serious as she shifted the baby over her shoulder and walked away. He glanced at the chest. Apparently having lifted it didn’t give him the right to see inside. He’d like to think she’d tell him later.

  Yeah, right.

  He followed her into the living room, where she laid little Johnny on the couch. “Can I hold him?”

  She turned, tilted her head to the side. “If you don’t mind. I need to fix his bottle.”

  She settled the baby in his arms, and Brady maneuvered him so that Johnny’s tiny head nestled into Brady’s neck. He inhaled that familiar scent, some combination of baby wipes and that yellow baby bath soap. Memories flooded his senses and prickled his eyes. He wasn’t going to cry, no way. He carried Johnny to the door that led to the backyard and looked outside as the memories washed over him, bringing waves of grief and shame and guilt.

  “Gram’s apples are ripe,” Rae said. “And they’re delicious. Help yourself. Take as many as you like.”

  He sniffed and kissed the baby’s head, staring at the trees heavy with fruit. “Yeah, okay. Maybe when it’s not so wet.”

  The activity behind him seemed to stop. A moment later, Rae said, “You okay?”

  “Sure.” He glanced at Rae and smiled before turning back to the window. “I’m fine.” He could hear her mixing the formula and water in the bottle behind him. He stuffed his emotions back where they belonged. He’d give anything to feed little Johnny, but with all the memories swirling, maybe not with an audience.

  “Let’s go in the living room.”

  She settled on the sofa, and he handed her Johnny, refusing to linger on that image of mother and child. He returned to the kitchen for their mugs, set hers in front of her, and sat on the chair next to her.

  Johnny sucked on the bottle like he hadn’t eaten in a month while Rae stared into his tiny eyes, a look of peace on her face he hadn’t seen since she’d returned.

  He remembered that peace. How powerful it had felt, and how tenuous it had been.

  The baby had sucked down half the bottle when Rae lifted him to her shoulder to burp him. She caught Brady staring and smiled.

  He smiled back. “He looks a lot like his father.”

  Johnny burped, and she giggled. “Gotta work on those manners.”

  So much for his subtle attempt to get more information. He was about to ask outright when she sighed.

  “I was working on a story.” She returned Johnny to her arms and offered him the rest of the bottle. Her smile faded. “I had a friend. She worked for the BBC and lived in the same complex as I did. Her name was Margot, and she was the only friend I had in Africa. She had to go to Cairo for a story. Just a follow-up on something she’d done before we met. I never knew the details. I went with her because she wanted to introduce me to a few people. She was like that, you know? I mean, we were rivals, but she was older than I was, and she had the backing of a major news outlet, while I was freelance.”

  Brady was almost afraid, afraid she’d change her mind about telling him.

  “Margot had a meeting that day and told me she’d meet me afterward. I wanted to go with her, but she insisted that this was not somebody I needed to meet.”

  Rae turned her gaze down to Johnny. Her voice quieted a bit, and he leaned forward to hear her better.

  “I got the feeling her contact was dangerous. I was tempted...” She looked up, nearly smiled. “You know me. I’m no respecter of secrets.”

  Nosiest person he’d ever met.

  “But she’d been so good to me, and I didn’t want to jeopardize our friendship, so I did what she asked. I waited at the hotel until after midday prayers.”

  She glanced at him and added, “After lunch. Muslims have these prayer times—”

  “I was stationed in Afghanistan.”

  “Oh, right. Okay.”

  The bottle was empty, so Rae set it on the coffee table and lifted Johnny again, tapping his back rhythmically. “I was on my way to the restaurant where we were supposed to meet. But I got lost. I’d just spotted the place when...” She paused, and he watched some emotion play across her face. She swiped a knuckle beneath her eyes. “It exploded.”

  Acid filled his stomach. “The restaurant where your friend—?”

  “Some little two-bit terrorist group had gotten their hands on explosives. The bomb just took out a few tables. Margot was killed.”

  He stood and sat beside her, wrapped his arm around her shoulders. “I�
�m so sorry.”

  She shook her head, like she was trying to shake it off. Then she leaned into him. “It was awful.”

  He froze, afraid the slightest movement might prompt her to retreat. He inhaled the strawberry scent of her shampoo and forced himself not to wrap her more tightly. He peered down at Johnny, who was looking at his mother with those serious baby eyes.

  She straightened and wiped her tears, then stood and carried Johnny upstairs. He hoped like crazy she’d tell him the rest of the story. A moment later, she returned carrying the bouncy seat with the baby inside. She set the bouncer on the coffee table.

  “Was it just random,” he asked, “or was there a target?”

  “They thought the target was the man Margot had been meeting with. Long story that no longer matters. Apparently the terrorists didn’t appreciate him sharing information with a British journalist.”

  “Wow.”

  “Thing is, the group responsible, they were just a bunch of dumb, dangerous teenagers. They claimed responsibility. Within a couple of hours, the authorities had them in custody. But I wasn’t satisfied with that. I wanted to know...What kind of a person sells bombs to teenagers? What kind of a man...?”

  She paced across the room. “To me, he was the real bad guy. And I was angry. I started investigating arms dealers, and my search led me to Julien.”

  Brady leaned back against the sofa and forced himself not to speak.

  “Julien had been doing business in Africa for more than a decade, and he knew everybody. I finally got him to agree to a meeting with me. We met at this little off-the-beaten-path cafe. I think he thought he’d scare me away. It was definitely not a place frequented by foreigners. And he wasn’t keen on meeting with me at all, but I’d insisted. I was angry and careless. I walked in there like I owned the place.” She blew out a breath and gave a wry laugh. “I was so stupid.”

  She paced another circuit, then another, before she spoke again.

  “I think I fell a little bit in love with Julien before our meals were delivered. He was so charming, so kind.”

  Brady’s spine stiffened. He forced himself to relax.

  “Julien gave me a lead. An arms dealer they called the Spaniard. I never proved he’d sold the munitions that killed my friend, but I did tie him to another bombing. My story was the impetus that got him arrested and sent to prison for life.”