Page 63 of The Girl and the Lies

“Do you remember what day you saw it? Was it near when Sabrina Ward was killed?” I ask.

“Come to think of it, I think it was that day. Because I remember watching the news and finding out that she’d been murdered,” she says. “Does that mean something?”

“It might,” I tell her.

It sounds very much like the same rental car that dropped the note off at Ander’s house came by the apartment to scope it out, and the mysterious man in the blond wig walked around the apartment building to get a better view, meaning the attempted attack on Mila might have happened on that particular day because she was home from work, but it was planned well ahead of time.

As I’m leaving the memorial, I get a text message from Carla. She lets me know that the doctors think that Marshall is responding well to his treatments and that they are planning on gradually taking him off sedation starting this evening. She tells me they say he should be ready to talk to me tomorrow morning if all goes well. That’s great news, and I message back that I’ll see her in the morning.

I’ve barely had the chance to get to my car when my phone rings. It’s Detective Fuller.

“Hey, Detective,” I say, pinning the phone between my ear and my shoulder as I get into the car.

“Are you busy right now?” he asks.

“I’m actually just leaving a memorial Tracy Ellis is holding at her headquarters. It turns out her belief that her zeal and fortitude during all this was going to rain down extra rewards on her isn’t quite turning out that way. Several more people have quit the company, and the appearance she was getting ready for was canceled. She’s not handling it particularly well,” I tell him. “Why? Do you need something?”

“There’s someone up here at the station who wants to talk to you. She says she has some information she thinks might be valuable to the case,” he says. “Can you come talk to her?”

“Sure,” I say. “Do you have any idea what it’s about?” I’d like to know what I’m getting myself into before I go.

“Not specifically. She just said she has some information that she wants to share about one of the people involved in the case. She wanted to speak directly to you, so I have her waiting in one of the conference rooms just in case you were able to get here,” he says.

“Yeah, I can come. Just tell her to sit tight. I’m on my way. It shouldn’t be more than about ten minutes,” I say.

I toss my phone into the passenger seat and head for the police department, wondering what this person could know that would have to do with the investigation. So much has been spread out through the media coverage, but there are also details that I’ve managed to keep close to the case, giving me some leverage if there’s a question about whether this person is being authentic with what they have to offer.

Getting to the station, I grab my notepad so I can jot down anything that could be of value and go inside. Detective Fuller meets me in the lobby and brings me back to the conference room.

I’m intrigued by the well-dressed woman sitting at the table with her legs crossed, her manicured nails deftly typing on the tiny keyboard of a tablet she has propped on the table in front of her.

“Mrs. Harris?” Fuller says.

The woman looks up, and I extend my hand to her.

“I’m Agent Emma Griffin,” I say.

“Caroline Harris,” she says. “Thank you for coming out here to meet with me.”

“Of course,” I say. “Detective Fuller tells me you think you might have information that could be useful for the investigation?”

“I’ll leave the two of you to it,” the detective says and backs out of the room, closing the door behind him.

“I do,” she says. “And I appreciate your understanding that I wanted to speak directly to you rather than to the detective. This information is fairly sensitive in nature, and I’m hoping you’ll be able to treat it with discretion.”

“I will do my best to respect your privacy, but I can’t promise that whatever you tell me won’t come out during the course of the investigation if it really does have significance. It might end up being discussed in open court. You need to understand that.”

She nods with a slight sigh. “I figured that is what you would say. I really hesitated to come forward to talk to you because I didn’t want to be dragged into anything, but I decided I couldn’t just sit by and not say anything. It might mean nothing. I might be dredging all this up for no benefit, and it’s going to turn around and bite me in the ass, but I’d rather risk that than think that I could have made some kind of difference.”

“What is it that you need to tell me?” I ask.

“Ander Ward isn’t the person you think he is.”

The words echo in my head.

The woman sitting in front of me doesn’t look flustered or upset. She’s perfectly calm and put together, making me even more interested in what she has to say.

“All right,” I say. “What do you mean by that?”

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