The Perfect Liar (Last Stand 5)

"You're calling about the supposed rape."

"Yes." Supposed wasn't a word she would've expected Mrs. Harter to use, either, but at least the woman had been told. That was a relief.

No longer worried that she'd be breaking a confidence, Ava relaxed and started doodling on her steno pad. "Your daughter came to me for help last Monday."

"What kind of help was she after? Money?"

Ava's pen carved a deeper imprint on the paper. "No, not money. She wants to make sure the man who hurt her goes to prison, as he should."

"Do you have any proof that he raped her?" she asked.

"We have your daughter's testimony," Ava replied.

"I'd be careful basing anything on that--especially a man's freedom."

Ava dropped her pen, which rolled off the table and hit the floor before she could catch it. "Excuse me?"

"Just tell me this, what's in it for her?"

Ava stiffened. "I don't know that there's anything in it for her."

"There has to be. There always is."

How was she supposed to respond to this? She'd expected a little more from Mrs. Harter. Some sympathy, perhaps. Some concern. "Kalyna was beaten up, too," she said.

News of the beating didn't seem to make a difference. "Do you think that means anything?"

"I have pictures."

Kalyna's mother laughed at this. "Oh, I'm sure the injuries were real enough, but they couldn't have been too serious because every last bruise is already gone."

"You've seen her?" she asked in surprise.

"She showed up out of the blue just today."

Kalyna hadn't mentioned that she'd be visiting Arizona, but it wasn't as though she had to check in with Ava. "I guess it's natural to want to be with family at such a time."

"Ms. Bixby, her visit has nothing to do with any desire to see us.

She's getting as much mileage out of this as she can."

"I don't understand."

"She's playing the poor, injured victim. Did you know she's AWOL?"

she asked, as if that proved Kalyna wrong in every respect.

Ava opened Kalyna's file and flipped through her summary of their first meeting. "She couldn't get leave?"

"She says they wouldn't grant it to her. Claims her superior officer is out to get her. But anyone who stands in her way is out to get her. Chances are she didn't bother asking like she should have. She had a good excuse and she used it."

Kalyna's mother was so negative it was off-putting, and that created the reverse effect, making Kalyna seem more credible rather than less.

"Her situation with the air force doesn't have anything to do with me," Ava explained. "I'm only interested in what happened--or didn't happen--the night of June 6. To be honest, I'm shocked you're not more concerned about her injuries."

"Obviously, you've never seen what she can do to herself when she throws one of her tantrums."

"You're saying she's injured herself before?"

"That's exactly what I'm saying."

Shit. This had been Ava's fear, and yet she was tempted to tell Mrs.

Harter about Bella, whose death had been a painful lesson about using past behavior to judge a particular incident. Every situation had to be judged on its own merit. But what was the point in trying to share what she'd learned? The most she could hope to get from Norma was clarification.

Slipping out of her chair, she wandered over to the window.

"Tantrums? At age twenty-six?"

"I don't know if she's thrown one lately, but she did it all the time she was growing up, whenever she didn't get what she wanted."

"What did these tantrums consist of?"

"She'd start screaming and crying and hurting herself. That's a tantrum, isn't it?"

It sure sounded like one. "How bad would it get?"

"Bad. So bad that a few bruises are nothing to her. I caught her sneaking out one night when she was...oh, probably seventeen, so I told her she'd be doing cleanup duty for the next month. And you know what she did? She started banging her head against the wall! We had to tie her to the bed to stop her from bashing in her stupid skull."

If that was true, Kalyna was a very troubled woman. But Ava had already suspected that. "Has she ever received counseling?"

"No, we knew she'd only manipulate the therapist, have her thinking we were ogres. She tried turning us in for child abuse a few times, nearly got herself put in foster care. That would've been lucky for us. I don't know why we fought it."

Ava wasn't a psychologist, but she was wel aware that self-mutilation was a big danger sign. They should've sought help. "What about hospital visits?" she persisted. "Surely there's some proof of this behavior. Even a single documented case?"

"Her injuries were never so serious that we couldn't look after them ourselves," her mother said.

"You're kidding, right?"

"Why would I kid about that? What can a doctor do for a bruise?"

Ava drew the drapes against the deepening dark. "How did you know she hadn't given herself a concussion with the head banging? You never had her checked by a professional?"

Mrs. Harter didn't react well to censure. Her voice cooled considerably. "Do you realize how much that would've cost?"

Didn't most people care more about their kids than money? "But--"

"We own a small business, Ms. Bixby." We can't afford health insurance. Besides, it would only have given Kalyna the attention she craves. She's an actress, that one."

Ava pictured the young woman who'd sat sobbing in her office. She'd seemed so normal that day, at least for someone who'd been recently traumatized. "What if, in this one instance, she's telling the truth?"

"How would you ever know?" her mother asked.

"That's what I'm trying to determine."

"Listen, Ms. Bixby, I'm sure you have plenty of other people to worry about. Don't waste your time with Kalyna. Some people are just bad eggs--

and she's one of them."

A click signaled the end of the conversation.

Ava tried to call back, but the mortuary message came on, and this time when she pressed "1", no one responded. "Damn it!" she grumbled, and called Jonathan to blow off steam.

"You won't believe this," she announced as soon as he said hello.

"What's up?" he asked.

"I just hung up with Kalyna Harter's mother--she's a piece of work, let me tell you."

"Unfriendly? Eccentric?"

"More than unfriendly." Ava rubbed her tired eyes. "Callous, uncaring--hardly the stuff most mothers are made of. I feel sorry for Kalyna."