First Lie Wins(56)

I should push, but I’m done with talking, too, so I kill the lights and join him.



* * *





I’m at the kitchen table, my notebook out in front of me, when Rachel wanders in. I pull out the two sheets I was writing on, fold them until they are small enough to fit in the back pocket of my jeans, then put the notebook in my backpack before moving to the coffee pot so I can fill my travel mug.

“Where are the cups?” Rachel asks.

I nod toward the cabinet over the pot. She ambles over to grab one. “Are you leaving this morning?”

Glancing at the clock, I answer, “Within the hour.” I scroll through Instagram on my phone and stop when I get to the latest post from Food Network that shows Bobby Flay in front of a grill with his trademark shit-eating grin. I comment: Beat Bobby Flay is my #1 fav show!! 45 mins to beat him is impossible! #EveryGoodRecipeIsWrittenDown

Normally, I would give Devon more than forty-five minutes to meet me at the first spot on the predetermined list, but after yesterday, I’m sure he’s refreshing his feed every few minutes like I am. And the hashtag won’t make sense to anyone but Devon, but I need him to know I have something to give him so he can tell me where to leave it.

Rachel adds a packet of sugar and some creamer to her coffee, then turns to me while she stirs it in. “Does Ryan know?”

“He does,” I say as I continue to scroll, refreshing my own feed. It only takes a couple of minutes for him to post a comment on Spotify’s latest post: See you soon by Coldplay is underrated #TwinkiesAreToo

Guess I’m looking for the Twinkies when I get to the meeting spot.

I close out of the app, then book it upstairs to pack. I throw some clothes in a bag and move to the bathroom to gather my toiletries. When I come back into the bedroom, Ryan has his own bag sitting on the bed, open and half full.

“Do you think I’ll need a suit?” he asks.

I dump the stuff in my arms into my bag before moving to the closet for my shoes. “I need to do this alone.” I can’t look at him.

“I understand you think you need to do this alone, but you’re not alone anymore.” His gaze catches mine from across the bed. “I’m coming with you.”

I match his stare. “But you would miss work on Thursday and I know how important the appointments on Thursday are for you.” I’m pushing right now to see what I can shake loose.

His head tilts to the side, his eyes narrowing. “I’m willing to tell you my secrets if you’re willing to tell me yours.” His voice is deep and a bit unsettling. “You go first.” There’s a glimpse of the guy who ruled that warehouse yard.

I just cross my arms and look at him.

Ryan throws his hands in the air when I don’t take him up on his offer. “I’m not asking any questions. I don’t scare easily. And I really don’t want you doing whatever it is that you think you need to do alone.” We continue to stare at one another until he finally adds, “Plus, my skill set may come in handy in a pinch.” And there’s that smile. The one that makes him utterly charming.

And as much as I thought smiling was impossible right now, I give him one right back. “And what skill set is that?”

He shrugs and continues packing. “Take me along and find out.”

I’m torn on what to do about Ryan. Mr. Smith decided this was the job to put me in while we played this macabre game, and I need to know why.

Mr. Smith will expect me to go alone. Until this point, I wanted to be 100 percent predictable, and now I need to be the exact opposite. Plus, Ryan’s arguing pretty hard to come along even though he’ll miss James’s funeral and a week of work. Very curious.

Forcing out a deep breath, I make a show of giving in. “I make all the decisions. If I need to slip off to handle something by myself, there is no argument from you. Not a single word.”

He nods. “Don’t even think about ditching me along the way,” he says with a smirk. “I can see it all over your face.”

We both know that option is always on the table.



* * *





Rachel is pissed Ryan is going with me but she isn’t.

I load our bags into the back of my 4Runner, while closer to the house Ryan is squaring off with Rachel in a heated conversation. I shut the back hatch and turn toward the street, committing it to memory. I will miss it more than I want to admit.

Slipping into the driver’s seat, I wait for Ryan. When he hears the engine turn over, he looks at me over his shoulder. Rachel reaches for him when he moves toward the car. She knows things about me that he does not, things she can’t tell him since I’m protected by client-attorney privilege, and she’s frantic to stop him from coming with me.

He’s not having it.

Ryan slips into the passenger seat, then rolls down the window as Rachel approaches his side. He wanted us to take his Tahoe, but this is my show, and if I do decide to leave him somewhere along the way, I’m going to need my own car.

Rachel gives me a look I don’t particularly like, then focuses on him. “I’m not joking, Ryan. No later than eight thirty on Friday morning in Atlanta. I’m working on the detectives meeting us in a location other than the precinct, so as soon as that is finalized, I’ll let you know where.”