Page 17 of The Liar

“Hey, Jo.” Zeke’s tone had an excitable quality that led me to think he’d discovered something interesting.

“What did you find?” I asked.

He huffed. “Seriously? No ‘how’s it going, old friend?’ What about ‘you’re a ray of sunshine in a drab world?’”

I didn’t respond, knowing that he’d get to the point more quickly if I refused to play along.

“Right.” He dropped the act. “There’s something about your husband that you should know.”

My stomach lurched. “What?”

“Are you sitting down?”

I sat on the uncomfortable plastic chair. “I am now.”

But being seated didn’t stop the nausea rolling throughme. Zeke wasn’t one to pull punches. If he’d told me to sit, then whatever information he’d come upon must be bad.

“Okay.” He sighed. “I’ll cut to the chase. Until six months ago, Westley Gallo didn’t exist.”

My mind stuttered. “What?”

I’d expected him to tell me about a girlfriend he was seeing on the side, or perhaps a gambling debt or sex addiction. Not… this.

“What do you mean?” I demanded.

Zeke waited so long to speak again that I checked to make sure the call was still connected.

“I’m sorry, Jo, but Westley Gallo is an alias.”

I shook my head. “Why? What could someone gain by pretending to be a bartender?”

“Your trust,” Zeke shot back, having clearly already thought this through.

“How do you know it’s an alias? Are you sure?” I closed my eyes and imagined West’s bright smile that lit him up from the inside, and those adorable dimples that appeared in his cheeks when he was about to laugh. How could that man—the man I loved—be a pretender?

“I’m certain.” Zeke’s tone was firm. “Whoever created the alias did a decent job, but not good enough to fool my team. Westley Gallo has a birth certificate, schooling records, and even an employment history, but if you dig beneath the surface, it all begins to crumble. If there’s one thing I can tell you for certain, it’s that the man you married is not Westley Gallo.”

My heart started to race. If I hadn’t married Westley Gallo, the charming bartender from Chicago, then who the hell had I married?

“Do you think this is some kind of long con?” I asked, although I couldn’t imagine why a con man would target me. I wasn’t rich. I didn’t have family money. I wascomfortable, but I still needed regular paychecks to get by.

What kind of imposter had I invited into my life—into my bed?

“I don’t believe so.” Zeke sounded sympathetic. “I know you’re probably doing some mental gymnastics right now, but bear with me.”

I drew in a deep breath and exhaled slowly. “Go on.”

“Westley Gallo may not have existed six months ago, but Weston Conti did. Then, six months ago, he left his apartment and never returned.”

“But what—” I cut myself off. Zeke would get to the point if I gave him the chance.

“Weston Conti is a federal agent who specializes in undercover operations.”

My jaw dropped. “You’re saying this man Conti is an undercover agent, and… what? You think he’s my husband?”

My phone vibrated against my cheek.

“I just sent you Agent Conti’s headshot,” Zeke explained. “Look familiar?”

---