Page 44 of An Honest Lie

“Yeah, he owns it,” Marvin said, starting to walk back inside. “And everything else, too.”

“So how’d he get your restaurant?”

“That’s a story for another day,” he said, looking at her more carefully. Now that they were back inside and the sun wasn’t shining in his eyes, he was studying her again, a strange look on his face.He’s seeing my mother, she realized, and wondered how often the two of them had crossed paths. Her mother was gone so much on the so-called mission trips, but she supposed they’d stopped in town on their way in and out. Mostly, the people in this place were probably hungry for the gossip that came from the compound, gleaning information like the desert scavengers they were.

Rainy took her time walking to her seat, taking in the details of the place. Picking up her knife and fork, she cut into her pancakes. Her mother’s death hadn’t been mentioned anywhere: not in the papers or, years later, on crime blogs where ordinary people could pick over cases in detail. According to the world, there had never been a murder. Lorraine had died of an overdose. Another day, another drug addict: the police moved on after they interviewed people at the compound, who all confirmed that Lorraine had been using drugs. Furthermore, they told police that she was a deeply disturbed woman who often disappeared for months at a time, leaving her teenage daughter behind for them to take care of. Taured had backed up these stories, adding that Lorraine had been trying to hide her drug dependency and had come to him for help. In his statement to police, he’d said, “By the time she asked for help it was already too late, and she died the next day.”

Her grandparents had believed all of it. Given the years-long rift between them and Lorraine, and Rainy’s dad’s own drug problem, it was an easy thing for them to believe. Gilda and Mark hadn’t seen their estranged daughter in years, and they no longer knew anything about her. Rainy had been too traumatized to say more than a few words at a time; though her grandparents were better than Taured—their religious fervor seemed to have mellowed in the years Lorraine was gone, as they had even begun to watch a few TV shows—they were still strangers. And although they’d never said so, she thought they must have regretted how they treated Lorraine, how their behavior drove her from them and into the clutches of someone worse.

“That boy that served you them pancakes, he’s the big shot’s son.” Rainy’s fork stilled on the way to her mouth.

The kid was topping off a Coke at the soda fountain, and all she could see was the back of his head. Someone in the kitchen called, “Order up!” and he turned his head to look. She studied his profile, his hair, the pull of his shoulders, searching for Taured. Realizing she was paying too much attention to the kid, she looked down at her soggy pancakes. She could get a knife, wait until after his shift, say she needed help...

Oh my God, Rainy, oh my God. It might not even be Taured’s kid.She bit her tongue and flinched: she deserved it. What type of person had thoughts like that?

The sins of the parents will be visited on their children.

“You know him, don’t you?”

Rainy stared at Marvin.

Turning back to his coffee, he said, “You’re not the first who’s come through here looking for a glimpse of him. Must’ve had a dozen kids like you, making the pilgrimage.”

“His children?”

He looked at her hard. “Nah, the ones like you who want something else.”

True that.How many kids had lived at the compound and had been brainwashed into adulthood to do his bidding? When Rainy looked at the pimply kid behind the counter, she realized that some of them could still be there—Saracould still be there. Had she ever considered that? No. She had actively tried not to think about that place. But she was here now, and there was no way around the thoughts.

“What do they want from him?”

Marvin turned his mean, old eyes on her, and she could see his rot in the yolky whites. “Same thing you do, I expect.”

Rainy took a sip of coffee, pressing her lips together as she eyed the bentness of him; he looked like a branch ready to snap.

“I doubt that, Marvin.” He’d lived so long and her mother had lived so briefly. The injustice of the good dying young was especially potent in that moment. Smacking her lips together, she set down her mug. “What’s he up to nowadays?” She didn’t see any point in lying to Marvin, who’d already made up his mind about who she was.

“He’s making money. Still lives up at the prison, but it’s just him and his closest now. He runs a couple online gigs, uses the space as a warehouse.” Marvin laughed. “His slave is the internet, not all those folks he had working for him for free.”

That made sense. He couldn’t continue doing what he was doing once social media happened: underage kids working his orchards for free, underage kids learning to build websites and what else? She thought of the photo, the one she’d taken from the front seat of his car, and she dropped her fork. It clattered to her plate.That’s what else.Reaching back, she pulled her hair across her shoulder and began to unbraid it. Her fingers flicked through the strands, detangling as her brain forced her to remember the photo: Feena wearing only her skin...clearly underage...clearly drugged...

She swallowed, but her throat was so dry it locked. Draining her water glass, she swung her stool outward so she was facing the parking lot.

“You think there are any rooms at Charlie’s Inn?” she asked, shaking her hair out. She reached for her bag and hauled it into her lap, making eye contact with the old man. She wanted him to remember her.

“Heh!” He choked out a laugh. “They ain’t seen a no-vacancy sign since they opened. You planning on stayin’ the night?”

She studied his graying skin, the liver spots that decorated it. Why would he eat here and give his money to the man who had most likely conned him out of his restaurant? Eat his eggs, and drink his coffee? “Figured it would be easier to get a ride out come morning. You gonna tell him I’m here?”

Marvin turned away from her, back to his coffee, and picked up his novel.

“Tell him who was here?”

She tossed a twenty on the counter. “Coffee’s on me next time, Marv.” She lingered long enough to see him smile before she walked out. Marvin. It was a great cover: harmless old man pretending to be bitter over the loss of his business, waiting to call the compound and warn the gang about who was showing up in Friendship. A spy. In fact, they probably had video of Rainy in the restaurant. Her stomach dropped as she walked through the motel office’s doors and handed her card to the guy behind the desk. If Taured owned the town, of course he would want to see who came through. Marvin had already been under Taured’s control; she knew that from when she’d hidden under the truck and overheard his conversation with Sammy. He’d asked for waitresses, and Taured had told Sammy to send the sisters.God, what was your big plan in coming here, Rainy?she asked herself.

She looked out the motel’s doors. She looked like her mother; that’s why she’d thought to take her hair down to try to hide the resemblance on the camera—to use it as a curtain—but of course it had been too late. Stupid to put herself on his radar. She didn’t even have a car—she couldn’t get away quickly. She took the room key from the clerk’s hand, smiled, walked back outside into the thick air. The thought of Taured showing up to her room didn’t scare her; it was the thought of not being prepared for him that did. The room was sparse and ugly, but cleaner than she had expected. She took off her shoes and sat on the edge of the bed. She fell back onto the white coverlet and, holding her phone above her face, she texted the group.

Won’t be at dinner tonight. Got stuck doing some tourist thing. Tell you about it tomorrow.

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