On Deadline & Under Fire

by Amanda M. Lee

  I can’t answer that, he typed back. You shouldn’t be here.

  That was rich coming from him. I’m digging for information.

  So am I. Go away.

  You go away. I was here first.

  That’s not true. I saw you come in with my sister and Carly. Tell Lexie to put her boots away. It’s embarrassing.

  Boots? I was confused. Then I realized it was a typo. I can’t control her boobs any better than you can. You tell her to put them away. Just make sure you actually use the right word.

  Stupid autocorrect. I’m not kidding about you leaving. Get out of here.

  Oh, if only that was a possibility. I’ll get out of here when I feel like leaving. Until then, stay on your side of the bar. If Phil puts it together that we know each other, it won’t go well.

  I’m not stupid. I’ve already figured that out myself.

  Then we have nothing to worry about. I was close to shoving my phone back in my pocket before I decided to send one more message. I’m going to be all over you for what you’re hiding come tomorrow. You’d better prepare yourself.

  I won’t be accepting calls.

  Then I’ll show up in person. That’s always fun.

  Just go away. Derrick’s face was red with anger when I glanced at the mirror again. I can’t believe you’re here.

  That made two of us.

  I left Derrick to fume on his stool and made a quick visit to the bathroom. When I opened the door to exit, I found Russell standing on the other side, an expectant look on his face.

  “What took you so long?”

  “Excuse me?” I glanced up and down the hallway to make sure we were alone. “I’ve been here for hours.”

  “I know. I’ve been watching you. I meant in the bathroom.”

  “Hey, I can’t control that. When you have to pee, you have to pee.”

  “Lovely.” Russell took me by surprise when he shoved a folder in my hand. “Take that and go. Don’t look over your shoulder. Don’t say goodbye to Keane. Just ... go.”

  I wrinkled my forehead. “What is it?”

  Russell stopped me from opening the file with a firm headshake. “You need to go now. You can look through it later. I didn’t kill Jay Truman. I know you think I did, but you’re mistaken.”

  “You were at the apartment complex,” I pressed. “You were on the seventeenth floor.”

  “That doesn’t mean I killed him.”

  I wasn’t ready to let it go. “If you weren’t there for him, why were you there?”

  “That’s none of your business.” Russell’s patience frayed. “I don’t have to justify my actions to you. You’re not in control of this situation. In fact, you’re so far out of control that you may never right yourself.”

  “Is that a threat?”

  “It’s a warning. You don’t belong here. You don’t belong in this place. You don’t understand — I can see that — but hopefully this file will make you see things more clearly.”

  “And what will this prove?” I waved the file for emphasis. “Is there proof that you’re not a killer in here?”

  “I can’t prove that to you,” Russell countered. “But it doesn’t matter. I’ve already stayed too long. Look through the file. More importantly, get out of here. It’s still early enough that you can slip away without a fight. Whatever you do, don’t come back.”

  I wanted to argue further but it was clear that Russell had no intention of answering additional questions. “Fine. How can I get in touch with you?”

  “You can’t. Our association ends here.”

  “I think we should keep it going for a bit longer.”

  “And I don’t care what you want. This is it. I’ve given you all I can. From now on, you’re on your own.” With those words, he spun on his heel and headed for the back door.

  “Wait!”

  He didn’t even glance over his shoulder before pushing open the door and disappearing into the night. He was gone so fast it almost felt as if he had never been there.

  This story was getting weirder with each passing moment. I could barely keep up.

  25 Twenty-Five

  Eliot’s texts told me he was still trapped in the boring movie, so I took my time returning home. I parked in the garage, kicked my shoes off by the door and dropped my keys on the counter. I was adept enough at covering my tracks that I remembered to grab my shoes so I could slide them in the closet and not incur questions from Eliot about why I needed dressy sandals when I was supposed to be sick. I also had ideas for a long bath (this one in hot water) dancing through my head. I pulled up short in the living room.

  I hadn’t turned on the light in the great room, though things were backlit thanks to the overhead fixture I’d left on in the kitchen. That allowed me to see a hint of movement, representative of a man sitting in one of the chairs. It was so dark it was impossible to make out any features.

  Holy crap! Someone was in my house!

  I remained rooted to my spot for what felt like forever, and then I instinctively took a step back. Eliot insisted on a security system when we moved into the house and there was an emergency button on it, which meant all I had to do was make it back to the panel in the hallway by the garage door and then, hopefully, the intruder would be frightened away by the noise.

  “Where are you going?”

  I jolted at the voice. I recognized it. “Eliot?”

  More movement and then the floor lamp on the side of the chair flicked on to reveal Eliot’s furious countenance. He looked ready to engage in an epic battle, which was the last thing I wanted.

  “Were you expecting someone else?” Eliot asked dryly.

  A myriad of thoughts went through my head. The first was that he was a righteous jerk for trying to scare me. The second was that I needed to think up a lie to cover my tracks, and I needed to do it fast. The third was that he already knew at least some of the truth, so lying would only get me in deeper.

  I wasn’t sure which instinct to go with.

  “What are you doing sitting here in the dark?” I asked finally. “You scared the crap out of me. I thought I was about to get robbed ... or worse.”

  Eliot shook his head as he regarded me. “I don’t ever want you to be frightened in your own home.”

  “So ... why were you sitting in the dark?”

  “Because I didn’t want the lights to tip you off that I was here … and waiting.” Eliot’s tone was reasonable — almost freakishly so — but there was a chill in it that worried me down to my marrow. “I figured if you saw the lights you would find someplace to park and then think up a lie. I wanted to see your face when you came in.”

  “Oh, well ... .” I had no idea what to say to him. “You’re gearing up to yell, aren’t you?”

  “No. I mean ... should I?” Unfortunately for me, the anger I thought I saw on initial glance was slowly giving way to hurt. That was worse than anger. “You’re an adult. I’m not your keeper. You can do what you want. That’s the way you live your life.”

  “I ... not really,” I hedged, hating how remote he sounded. “If I did everything I ever wanted I would’ve been locked in prison years ago.”

  “Is that supposed to make me feel better?”

  “I ... don’t know how to make you feel better.” That was the truth, though it almost hurt to acknowledge. “Why are you here so early? I thought you were watching a movie with your mother.”

  “Clearly. That’s why you snuck out of the house, all gussied up, and did whatever it is you did tonight.”

  I glanced down at my outfit. Unlike Lexie and Carly, I didn’t dress up for our outing. I opted for simple khaki capris and a black top. “I’m not gussied up. That’s a weird word, by the way.”

  “For you, that is gussied up,” Eliot shot back. “Where were you? Did you have a date or something?”

  He couldn’t be serious. “Is that what you think?”

  “What am I supposed to think? I left the theater early — arranged for an Uber
for Mom because she was determined to see that stupid movie no matter what — and came home to take care of my sick girlfriend. I was worried about her. I wanted to take care of her.”

  Oh, man. This was spiraling. “Eliot, I felt better so I decided to go out with Carly and Lexie. I wasn’t on a date. I can’t believe you’d think that.”

  Eliot steepled his fingers as he regarded me. “Where did you go?”

  I was caught. I’d been edging around the truth for days. Eliot didn’t have a lot of relationship ground rules he expected me to abide by, but the biggie was truth. He hated when I lied. I wasn’t a big fan of it myself. Sometimes, though, it was necessary.

  In the harsh light of his obvious hurt, it became glaringly obvious that I erred when choosing to lie this time. “You’re not going to like what I have to tell you,” I warned, sliding around the couch so I could sit. “It’s going to make you really angry, although not because I had a date. It kind of bugs me that you said that.”

  “There are so many things that bug me about what you’ve done this evening that I don’t know where to start, Avery,” Eliot challenged. “I want the entire story, from the start, and I don’t want any of your nonsense.”

  “I never speak nonsense.”

  “Avery!” Eliot’s voice was a deep growl. “I am at my limit here.”

  I could see he spoke the truth. That meant it was time for me to start doing the same. I had no choice. I had to make things right with him. “Okay. I’m going to tell you. I want you to refrain from commenting and telling me how stupid you think I am until I’m done. Do you think you can do that?”

  “We’ll see.”

  “Great.” I rubbed my sweaty palms over my knees. “So, the thing is, there’s a lot of weird stuff going on. I think I might be in over my head, and you know how hard it is for me to admit that.”

  Eliot remained immovable.

  “Right. Here we go.” I swallowed hard and then launched into my tale. I did what he asked and started at the beginning, then moved chronologically through the story. By the time I was done his face was red with disbelief and anger, and I could do nothing but brace myself for an explosion. I was certain he would start screaming to the point that the neighbors — who are seriously out to get us because they found out I don’t want to be a member of their book club — would call the police.

  Instead of yelling, though, he gripped the arms of the chair and glared. “I can’t believe you kept all this from me.”

  “Technically I kept very little from you,” I argued. It was time to make my move if I didn’t want this to drag out over days rather than hours. “I told you most of what I was doing, although I might have played it down a bit.”

  Eliot’s eyebrows winged up. “A bit?”

  “Just a little bit.” I held my thumb and index finger about an inch apart. “Just a tiny, tiny bit.”

  “You are clearly trying to make my head explode,” Eliot snapped. “Why wouldn’t you tell me this from the beginning?”

  “Why do you think?”

  “Because you obviously don’t trust me.”

  I made an exaggerated face. “Oh, that’s not it and you know it,” I spat. “I didn’t tell you because your mother is here and she’s your priority. You wanted certain things from this visit. Telling you would’ve ensured that you didn’t get what you wanted.”

  Eliot blinked, his face blank. He seemed confused. “What?”

  I committed to the course of action. “Grandpa and I had a talk the day your mother arrived. I was doing that panicking thing you hate and was dreading your mother’s arrival. I explained how I’d gutted the basement and tried to hide my stuff to pretend I was someone else. He said that was idiotic.”

  “I believe I told you that, too,” Eliot said dryly.

  “You did,” I confirmed. “But he added a little something extra to his explanation. He said that I did it because I was trying to do right by you. He said I was trying to put your happiness ahead of my own, and while I picked an idiotic way to do it, it was still growth and he was proud.”

  “He said he was proud of you for trying to be someone you weren’t?” Eliot was understandably dubious. “Why don’t I believe that?”

  “Because that’s not what he said. He said he was proud that I was trying so hard to do right by you.”

  Eliot licked his lips as he rubbed the back of his neck. “You’re unbelievable.”

  “What?”

  “You’re so earnest right now — and you’re almost never earnest — that it’s hard to stay angry.”

  Hope washed through me. “I say go with the urge and let the anger recede with the tide.”

  Eliot narrowed his dark eyes. “I said it was hard to stay angry, not impossible.”

  Weariness finally caught up with me and I sighed. This wasn’t the way I saw my evening going. I thought I would draw a hot bath and wait for Eliot there, that we would get to spend a bit of time together alone and then crawl into bed. I did not have a big fight in mind when I pictured any of it.

  “I’m sorry.” It was a simple statement, but I meant it. “I never want to hurt you, and I think I did that. It’s just ... I’m used to covering my tracks. I’ve been forced to do it since I was a kid. I keep forgetting you’re okay with me being ... well, me.”

  “I am okay with you being you as long as you don’t lie,” Eliot challenged. “I can’t stand it when you lie. I’m not your mother. I don’t see why you feel the need to lie to me.”

  I threw up my hands, frustrated. “It’s habit. I lie to my mother all the time to get her off my back. I lie to Fish to get the assignments I want. I lie to politicians to lull them into a false sense of security. I don’t want to lie to you. Sometimes I simply fall into bad habits.”

  Eliot worked his jaw as he regarded me. “So, let me get this straight,” he said finally. “You lie to me because you forget to tell the truth. Is that what you’re saying?”

  I shrugged, noncommittal. “I do the best I can.”

  “Geez.” Eliot pinched the bridge of his nose and stared at the ceiling. “You are one of kind. Has anyone ever told you that?”

  “You just did, which means I believe it.”

  “Ugh.” Eliot shook his head. I could practically feel the frustration seeping from his pores. “We have come a long way since we started this relationship. At the beginning, I was convinced we wouldn’t be able to make it work even though I was drawn to you in a way I couldn’t explain. You were too set in your ways. I didn’t think there was room in your world for me.”

  My heart constricted. “You don’t still think that, do you?”

  “No.” He leaned forward and stared hard into my eyes. “I think you are doing your very best ... at least most of the time. I think you’re trying. I also think you’re growing. But the lying is not allowed.

  “You can lie to your mother — I actually encourage that because she can’t seem to handle the truth most of the time — and you can lie to the rest of your family,” he continued. “You can lie to your boss ... and your co-workers ... and everyone else in your life. No more lying to me.”

  “What if I have to lie because you’ll try to stop me from chasing a story if I tell the truth?”

  Eliot barked out a laugh so raucous it took me by surprise. “Only you would come right out and ask something like that.”

  “It’s a viable question,” I persisted. “We both know there are going to be times when I’m going to have to lie. I can’t change who I am, which means chasing stories you might find dangerous. You can’t change who you are, which means yelling when I try to cover those stories. I’m always going to opt to lie to avoid a fight with you. I can’t help it. It’s human nature.”

  Eliot pursed his lips. “See, that right there is the truth I’m looking for. I asked for something you’re incapable of doing and you admitted it to me. It wasn’t what I wanted to hear, but you stuck to your guns. I can’t find fault with that.”

  “So I’m free to lie t
o you when investigating a story you won’t like?” I was hopeful. “That’s going to make my life a lot easier.”

  “No, you are not free to lie to me. You need to realize that I’m going to be angry when you lie, and we’re going to argue.”

  “I’ve already resigned myself to that.”

  “Good.” He licked his lips and briefly pressed his eyes shut. “I feel like an old man around you sometimes.”

  I took a chance and moved from the couch to his lap, moving his arms so I could slide into the chair with him. I was sincere when I leaned close and rested my forehead against his cheek. “I don’t lie to hurt you. I lie because sometimes I so desperately need to find answers that my head goes wonky until I find what I’m looking for. I’m not always in control of the instinct.”

  “I know.” Eliot stroked his hand down the back of my head, the gesture soft until he reached the end of my hair and then he gave it a good tug. “You are limited to one lie a month.”

  The change in his demeanor threw me. “What?”

  “You heard me.” Eliot’s lips curved as he warmed to the idea. “Yeah, this is good. You can lie to your family and others as much as you want. I don’t care about that. With me, though, you can only lie once a month.”

  He had to be joking. “But ... that’s a lot of pressure. What happens if I use up my one lie and then need it later in the month? Can I bank the lies?”

  “No. Use them or lose them.”

  “But ... .” His plan slipped into place in my head. “It’s kind of genius from your perspective. If I use my lie in the first week then I’m stuck for the rest of the month. If I hoard it, which will be my instinct, I could possibly lose it because nothing I need to lie about might pop up.”

  “Yup.”

  “You are diabolical.”

  “I am merely a man trying to work with what he’s got.” Eliot tipped my head so he could stare into my eyes. “We need this. You have to agree. I know it’s difficult for you, but the fear I felt when walking into this house and finding you gone was almost too much to bear. The anger that followed could’ve swallowed us both whole.”