Page 76 of The Lie Maker

“Why would he have killed himself?” Lana asked. “You have any idea?”

I shook my head. “I don’t know.”

“How did he die?”

“Went into the water,” I said. “Hudson, East River, not sure which. But he drowned.”

Lana went quiet for a moment.

“What?”

She shrugged. “Nothing. Just seems like there’s a lot of that going around.” She gave her head a shake, as though discarding a notion. “It’s nothing.”

“Like my editor said, what do we really know about each other, you know? All of us, we’re dealing with some kind of shit or other, and lots of times we keep it to ourselves.”

“We do, don’t we?” she said pointedly, looking right at me.

“What?” I said.

“Look, I don’t want to get into it. You’ve had a shitty day.”

“No, really, what’s troubling you?”

“Okay,” Lana said, “I have to make a confession, to start with. I was making some work-related calls to various city and state offices and casually asked whether you’d been hired. Like, in the communications department, for example. Writing speeches. I was hoping I’d find out what you were up to and then I’d drop it on you. You know how much I hate secrets. It’s like a sickness with me. I just have to know.”

“Uh-huh,” I said. I can’t say I was surprised. It was in her nature.

“And I happened to be talking to this guy who knows a lot of the inside scoop on publishing, and—”

“That doesn’t sound like your beat. How did calling someone in publishing just happen?”

She sighed. “That one was deliberate. To see whether you’d gotten, like, a ghostwriting gig or something. Anyway, I didn’t get anywhere, you’ll be delighted to know, but there are some rumors about you. About your past.”

“Oh.”

“Not something you did, but something about your family.”

“And you did some more digging and you found out.”

“No, I didn’t,” Lana said. “Not for lack of trying, though.”

“So, let me see if I have this right. You’re pissed with me because you did a shitload of snooping, behind my back, to find out what I’ve been working on, and found out I have something personal I’ve chosen to not share.”

“It sounds bad when you put it that way,” she said. “But I thought we were honest with each other.”

“I have been. I’ve never lied to you. Have you told me every single thing about your past? Family? Past lovers?”

“That’s different.”

“How?”

She opened her mouth to say something, but nothing came out.

“I got nothin’,” she said, finally.

We stared at each other for several seconds, as though waiting to see who would blink first. She lost, turned away, and said, “I’m sorry.”

I went to the window and watched a plane land at Logan, glancing occasionally at the muted TV tuned in, as always, to the news. I could see Lana’s reflection in the window. She had walked back into the kitchen area, opened a drawer, and taken something out. Seconds later, she was standing behind me.

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