The Perfect Liar (Last Stand #5)(17)
Author: Brenda Novak

"Fun!" Tati’s jaw sagged. "You said he beat you!"

Kalyna assumed a long-suffering manner. "You don’t understand what it was like."

"Explain it to me."

"You wouldn’t understand even if I tried. You don’t know squat about life or love. So just drop it, okay?" She got up. If her sister was so damn nervous about sitting in the "parlor," they might as wel go. "You’ve changed," Kalyna said with a frown.

"No, I haven’t."

"Yes, you have. You take the joy out of everything."

Tati stiffened. "You’d rather be somewhere else, getting raped?"

"Don’t knock it til you’ve tried it," she muttered. But she didn’t want to think about the intimacy she’d shared with Luke. Recalling those special moments made her want to be close to him again, to see him and touch him and smell him. That yearning caused her to wonder how he would’ve treated her if she hadn’t reacted so hastily. Would he have called?

No, she couldn’t have risked it. She had to go after what she wanted, just as she’d told Tatiana. "What’s there to eat?" she asked. "I’m starving."

Her sister gave her an incredulous look. "Sometimes I don’t understand you at all."

Kalyna would’ve laughed it off, but the noise of a car brought her up short. Her parents were home.

Hearing the engine, Tati fell silent, waiting anxiously. "What are you going to tell them?" she asked at length.

"The truth," Kalyna said, and forced a smile as her mother charged into the house.

"What are you doing here?" Norma demanded.

Kalyna raised her chin. "What, I can’t come home?"

Her father entered behind her mother and spoke before Norma could respond. "What’d you do?" he asked.

"What are you talking about? I didn’t do anything," Kalyna said.

His labored breathing told Kalyna he’d seen her car and moved faster than normal to get inside the house. "Why’d they kick you out?"

"They didn’t kick me out!"

"Thank God." Her mother sank into the seat she’d just vacated. "So when are you going back?"

Chapter 8

Ava stood at the railing of her houseboat, gazing at the sinking sun, which resembled a giant red fireball sitting on the water. Uncontained brushfires–seven hundred of them–raged all over California. They weren’t close, but they stil made the air acrid and hazy, which probably explained the unusual color of the sun. Ava had never seen it quite so red before.

We need rain, she mused. This time of year, Sacramento had little chance of getting any moisture–April through October were dry months–

but at least the gentle delta breezes cooled the area, especially in late evening. She hated how hot it was without them.

A bird swooped low, barely skimming the surface of the water. Ava watched it dip, twirl and pull out of its dive. Jonathan didn’t approve of her living accommodations, but she wasn’t staying on the houseboat just to please her father. She loved it. She’d never known a more tranquil place than the delta. Only an occasional car navigated the narrow roads that wound through the sloughs and the many single-lane bridges; some islands weren’t even accessible by car.

Wind chimes tinkled behind her. It was so quiet she could hear the water lapping at the pontoon. The two other houseboats that often docked there had gone on a fishing excursion together. It could get lonely without them, and the delta could get foggy and gray during the winter. But it wasn’t winter now, the others would be back soon and she had her work to keep her busy. She generally toted home a heavy briefcase and put in a few extra hours before bed.

Inside the cabin, she turned on the TV to fil the silence. She hadn’t heard from Geoffrey today–not since last weekend. But that didn’t matter.

She had another set of phone records to scour on the Georgette Beeker case, some computer searches to perform on Wil ie Sims and she needed to make a few calls on Kalyna Harter, beginning with Kalyna’s parents.

Jonathan had provided their phone number. Ava could’ve asked Kalyna for it, but she wasn’t ready to inform her client that she had some misgivings about her veracity. Letting Kalyna know might change what she’d hear from the people closest to her. Besides, Ava was stil trying to give Kalyna the benefit of the doubt, although she had to wonder if she was overcompensating because of Bella.

She needed to find out if Kalyna was capable of telling such a terrible lie. That was what she hoped to learn from the Harters–if they’d talk to her.

The ice clinked as she drained the glass of iced tea she’d left on the dining-room table, next to her briefcase and files. She had no idea how Mr.

and Mrs. Harter might respond to her questions. It was possible that Kalyna hadn’t told them what had happened on June 6. Some rape victims were so humiliated they didn’t want to talk about it to anyone, even family or friends.

Ava frowned. She wasn’t eager to be the one to break the news. It wasn’t her place. But the context of Kalyna’s life would be too valuable to either the prosecution or the defense, depending on what that context proved to be. So, with or without her interference, Kalyna’s folks wouldn’t remain in the dark for long.

Before picking up her cell phone, Ava checked the clock. Nearly eight. Arizona and California were in the same time zone. If she was lucky, she’d catch the Harters well after they’d finished dinner.

She dialed, the phone rang and a recorded greeting began.

You’ve reached the Harter Family Mortuary, a male voice said. Our office hours are nine to six, Monday to Friday, ten to six on Saturday. We’re closed on Sunday. If your call is business related, please leave a message after the beep and we’l get back to you. If you’d like to speak to a member of the Harter family, press "1."

Glad she hadn’t hung up as soon as the recording came on, Ava did as instructed.

Almost immediately, she heard a female voice. "Hello?"

"Is Mr. or Mrs. Harter there?"

"This is Mrs. Harter."

"Hello, Mrs. Harter. My name is Ava Bixby–"

"If you’re looking for the mortuary, it’s closed for the night," she cut in.

"I’m afraid you’l have to call back in the morning."

"I’m not looking for the mortuary." Ava pulled out one of the heavy dining room chairs and squeezed around the arm of it so she could sit down. "I’d like to speak with you regarding your daughter, Kalyna."

There was a silence, then Mrs. Harter said, "Oh, boy, what is it now?"

Ava felt her eyebrows go up. "Oh, boy" was a rather inauspicious beginning…"I’m with a charity called The Last Stand. We help victims of violent crime who–"