The Perfect Liar (Last Stand 5)

Norma hated going gray.

Tati had done her mother's makeup for years. But now that Norma was dead, this would be the last time she'd perform this service, and she wasn't sure how she'd get through it. She'd finally established a relationship with the woman who'd adopted her at the age of six, finally gained an appreciation of her strengths and some tolerance for her weaknesses.

And now Norma was gone. It wasn't fair. How could Mark, or anyone else, have done this?

"Hey, you okay?"

Tati glanced up to see her father watching her closely. As skinny as Norma was fat, he looked more shrunken than usual, the lines on his face etched more deeply than before. Wearing the same black polyester slacks and button-up shirt he'd had on yesterday, as if he'd scooped them off the chair next to his bed, he'd slicked his dark hair into place but somehow stil looked disheveled, bewildered, old. Someone else might never have noticed the change. But to Tati he seemed to have aged a decade in a matter of hours.

"I don't know," she said. "I don't know what to think. This seems...unreal, like a nightmare." Realizing that he probably felt as lost as she did, and just as robbed, she conjured up a smile. "What about you?"

"I always thought I'd be the first to go. I never dreamt it would be like this."

The deputy coroner had just pulled the van around to the loading area. He threw open the back doors and strode in to get the gurney, and Dewayne followed, obviously planning to help.

The phone rang. Tati's eyes shifted to the counter, but she hesitated to answer for fear the police had discovered who'd done this terrible thing, and it wasn't someone as far removed from her as she hoped.

When she made no move, Dewayne switched directions, but somehow Tatiana found the energy to intercede. "I've got it," she mumbled, and motioned him back toward the van. "You go with Mom."

"Are you sure?"

"I'm sure."

"Okay, call me on my cell if it's important," he said.

She nodded as he left. Then she forced her wooden legs to carry her across the room. "Hello?"

"Is Tatiana there?"

She'd been hoping it would be Kalyna. That her sister was calling to say she was driving back, after all. Tati wanted to believe what Kalyna had told her earlier, but the way the police had acted, and her father...she was beginning to have some serious misgivings. If only Kalyna would arrive soon and prove that she'd had nothing to do with whatever happened this morning. Then Tati could focus her pain on the tragedy of losing her mother and stop worrying that the situation was about to get worse. But it was a man's voice on the other end of the line. "This is Tatiana," she said.

"Tati, this is Mark Cannaby."

Tati's first thought was to catch her father. Maybe Mark was going to confess. Maybe all their questions would be answered right here, right now, and she could feel good about her sister again. But something in his voice made her cautious. She walked toward the door, even opened it, but didn't rush out to stop the van. Instead, she waved her father off. "How dare you call here!" she said into the phone when Dewayne was gone.

"I don't know what the hell Kalyna is telling you, but I didn't do it," he responded.

"Then how do you even know what 'it' is?" she challenged.

"How do you think? The police were just here! Detective Morgan said someone murdered your mother and asked me where I was last night. But I was home sleeping, where I always am that late at night. They're coming after the wrong person."

"No. Kalyna told me, Mark." Tati had been mostly dry-eyed since talking to Kalyna. But the confusion and loss she felt now brought a fresh flood of tears.

"She told you what?"

"About the hitch--" her voice snagged on a sob "--hitchhiker you--you kil ed ten years ago. The one you cremated after you were d-done."

"It's not true!" he insisted. "Even if you believe I'm capable of such a thing, do you really suppose Kalyna would keep quiet about it all these years?"

He had a point, but Tati didn't want to acknowledge it. Kalyna loved to shock others, loved to gossip. And she trusted Tati with everything. At least, she used to. "She has the girl's necklace," she said. "I've seen it in her jewelry box."

"Oh, yeah? What does it look like?"

This took her by surprise, but she was determined to convince him she knew what she was talking about. "It's a floating diamond on a gold chain. A piece of jewelry she could never afford herself."

"You saw her with it?"

"I saw it in her jewelry box. No way would she wear it. She watched you take it from a girl you murdered!"

"I have something to show you," he said. "Can I come over?"

"No!" Tati wouldn't feel safe. She'd never liked Mark to begin with, didn't trust him.

"Then give me your e-mail address, and I'l send it to you."

"What is it?" she asked.

"You'l see."

Tati was sitting in front of her parents' computer when his e-mail arrived. "Here's your sister showing how horrified she is by what I did," it read.

"What?" Tati downloaded the attachment. It turned out to be a picture. But it was so large she couldn't see the entire image at once, or even figure out what it was.

After typing in a few commands, she got it to fit her screen. Only then could she tell what she was looking at. It was a picture of Kalyna at maybe...seventeen. She was sprawled on a bed, completely nude, laughing as if carefree. And she was wearing that necklace.

Chapter 23

Ava was at Luke's apartment. He'd dropped her off so she could get some work done, then he'd left to get groceries and run errands. But even with him gone she couldn't concentrate. Just being in his space was enough to distract her.

She forced herself to finish checking the phone records on the Beeker case. Then she opened her laptop, typed out a few letters she planned to print later and tried to return some e-mail. But after reading one particular message three times without comprehension, she gave up. She was no longer getting anything done.

With a sigh, she got up and wandered around the room. Luke's apartment was plain but clean, and she had to smile at the various masculine touches that put his stamp on the place--a bike propped against the wall behind the couch, skis in the corner, Sports Il ustrated magazines on the coffee table and a giant TV against one wall. There was a picture of him with his family on a shelf--taken at Christmastime--and several other photographs, mostly snapshots of various buildings or landforms as seen from the air. Luke obviously loved being a pilot. She'd bet he was a great one.