Page 86 of The Lie Maker

“Like I said, he didn’t mention anyone.”

She tried a different angle. “These times your father appeared, was there any advance notice at all?”

“No, nothing. And there was never any real pattern. I think this is the longest I’ve gone, since he first left us, without having him show up.”

“Well, if he does, hold on to him and notify us immediately. We’ll set him up with another identity if need be, a new location. Assuming he’s been behaving himself, of course. He’s been given a pass on the crimes he committed back in the day, but not for any he might have done since.”

“I get it.”

“It’s even possible, I suppose, that your father’s not aware of any possible threat against him.”

“Like from that guy in the picture.”

She nodded. “Maybe your father chose to take off for some other reason, unrelated to the threat. Like he just wanted to get away. But we still need to warn him of a possible threat.”

“Maybe you should go after that guy instead of worrying about where my dad is.”

“There are people on that. It’s not my department.”

I felt exhausted and overwhelmed.

“What are you thinking?” she asked.

“I’m not big on the whole things-happen-for-a-reason bullshit. But for a while there, I was thinking you seeking me out fell into that category. That we connected so that I could see my dad again. But we’re not getting anywhere.”

“We just need a break, one little break,” Gwen said. “Hang in there.”

Shortly before I was going to order an Uber to take me to meet Lana at her latest favorite Italian restaurant in the North End—she had a new favorite about every three weeks—she called.

“Sorry. Can’t make it.”

Not unusual, given her job. The vice president was in town making a speech about infrastructure, and Lana had been assigned to it. The reporter who usually covered Washington-related stories was at the hospital expecting to become a father at any moment, so Lana was pressed into service.

“But look,” she said, “I’ve found out some interesting things. They may not mean anything, but who knows, right?”

“Like?” I asked.

“We shouldn’t really talk about this on the phone, am I right?”

She was right. I said, “What about after the speech? You want me to come to your place?”

“I’ve got an early-morning assignment, so I’ve only got about six hours between the time I get home and when I have to head out again, so—”

“Say no more,” I said. “We’ll talk tomorrow. Love—”

Lana was gone before I could say “you.”

So instead of heading downtown I popped into a local sub shop and brought home a sandwich. Washed it down with a beer.

Around nine thirty, I turned on the TV and found a Law & Order to put on in the background while I scrolled through various news sites on my phone. I jumped from HuffPost to the New York Times to the Daily Beast to CNN, giving anything that caught my attention a good thirty seconds of my time.

Finally feeling the eyestrain, I tossed the phone onto the couch next to me, settled my head back into the cushion, put my feet up on the coffee table, and allowed myself to be entertained by the show. I had clearly landed on one of the later seasons. Lennie was long gone. The detectives on this night were Green and Lupo, and they were trying to track down who’d shot someone in Central Park. Now they were interviewing a friend of the deceased, a waiter in a SoHo restaurant.

I swung my feet off the coffee table and sat up straight, suddenly awakened from my stupor.

“Can’t be,” I said.

The scene lasted no more than half a minute. The detectives had departed the restaurant and were walking down a SoHo street. The show wasn’t streaming, and it wasn’t on a DVD, so I couldn’t immediately pause it and rewind to get another look at what had caught my attention.

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