Sweet Liar Read online

  Samantha was watching him, and every cynical thought she’d ever had came into her mind. In her experience, when a man started projecting himself into a woman’s feelings, he wanted something. She gave Mike an encouraging smile that she hoped looked full of self-pity.

  “Yes, well, I was thinking that you need a vacation, a real vacation. Somewhere cool, away from the heat of New York. Somewhere by the ocean maybe. So, last night I talked to Raine—you remember him, don’t you? My cousin you seemed so taken with? Anyway, Raine is going up to Warbrooke, that’s a town in Maine. It’s on the end of a peninsula and absolutely beautiful. Raine will be there with his whole family, and they have a guesthouse that’s a wonderful place. You can rest and read and go out on boats and catch things out of the water and do whatever you want. You can spend the whole summer there if you want. I was so sure that you’d like this idea that Raine is coming by this afternoon to pick you up to drive you to Warbrooke. Doesn’t this all sound great?”

  While he was talking, Samantha was looking at him. His eyes were red-rimmed, as though he hadn’t slept all night and, too, there was something in his eyes that she hadn’t seen before. Why was he so intent on getting her out of the city? Why was he sending her away with a man who a few days ago he had been jealous of?

  He was sending her to a tiny remote town on the edge of a peninsula, a place where his relatives could look out for her and could take over the care of her. She didn’t for a minute believe that Mike was sending her away because he believed she needed a rest. A few days ago he seemed to think that what she needed was the opposite of rest.

  Thinking about last night, she tried to remember everything she could about what had happened. Mike kept talking, telling her about a town he had previously described as nothing but a lot of water. Now he was telling her it was paradise, and that his Montgomery relatives were the kindest, sweetest people on earth. It was his repeated use of the phrase “they’ll take care of you” that made her suspicious.

  She reached across the tray to the bedside table to the notepad and pencil there.

  Who is Half Hand? she wrote.

  Tearing off the note, she handed it to Mike. When she saw him turn white, she knew that in this question was the answer to a great deal.

  “You have very nice handwriting, you know that? Nice round a’s and o’s. I tend to close mine.”

  Who is Half Hand? she wrote again and handed him the note.

  Mike looked like a trapped man. He lay back on the bed, his eyes scrunched closed, as though in great agony. “Samantha,” he said tiredly, and she was beginning to realize that he called her Samantha only when he was annoyed with her. “Samantha, this is not a parlor game. This is real and it’s dangerous. I didn’t have any idea that it was dangerous or I wouldn’t have involved you, but now all I can do is get you out of here and into a safe place.”

  If you don’t tell me who Half Hand is, I will call my grandfather and ask him, she wrote.

  Mike’s face lost its look of agony; now she saw real fear in his eyes. “You don’t know what you’re saying,” he said softly in that tone a person uses when they’re trying not to explode with rage. “You have to swear to me that you won’t call that bastard.”

  Samantha frowned. He is my grandfather!!! she wrote.

  Getting off the bed, Mike paced the room for a few minutes. “Sam, I made a mistake, a big one. I told you from the beginning that I thought your father’s will was rotten and I should have done what I knew was right: I should have released your money without taking you to meet Barrett. But I was greedy; I wanted to meet him. No one’s seen him in years and I—”

  Breaking off, he wiped his hand over his eyes. “I don’t know if Barrett is your grandfather or not, but I know what kind of man he is. I haven’t told you much about him—I purposely didn’t tell you because I was afraid you’d refuse to meet him if I told you the truth. And now I’m paying for it.”

  Removing the tray from across her lap, he sat back down on the bed, then took her hand in his. “You keep telling me that I lie to you. Maybe I have, but I thought I had a good reason.”

  He touched the bruises on her neck. “You could have been killed last night, and it would have been my fault,” he said softly. “I should have told you everything from the first and I should have given you your money immediately after your father died. I shouldn’t even have allowed you to come to New York.”

  Putting her hand out, she took his, for he was genuinely upset about what had almost happened to her. When he looked at her, she smiled at him, but he didn’t smile back.

  “If I tell you what I know, will you leave the city? Will you go with my cousin and stay under his family’s protection until I can solve this thing?”

  How could she promise something like that? She didn’t yet know what he was talking about. She thought a burglar had tried to kill her, but now she was beginning to understand that the man had wanted her specifically. Why? What did he think she knew that she should be killed for it?

  Seeing her reluctance, Mike understood it. Maybe he didn’t deserve her trust since he’d used her to get to see an old man. Mike swallowed. No book in the world was worth nearly causing the death of another human being.

  “First I want to tell you about Barrett,” he said softly. “I want to make you understand what kind of man he is. Sam, I don’t want you to glorify this man. Just because he may or may not be your relative is no reason to endow him with godlike characteristics.”

  His lips tightened at the look on her face and at the way she scribbled furiously on the pad of paper.

  He may have done some bad things in the past, but—she wrote.

  He grabbed her hands before she could finish the sentence and held her wrists tightly for a second, but he released them, then calmed himself. “You’ve heard him called Doc, haven’t you? Do you have any idea why he’s called Doc? No, don’t answer me. You’ll probably say that he was given an honorary Ph.D. somewhere.”

  Pausing, Mike looked at her hard. “He’s called Doc because it’s a nickname for his real nickname. He’s called the Surgeon.”

  She turned her head away from him, but Mike cupped her chin and turned her back to look at him.

  “I don’t care whether you want to hear or not, because I’m going to tell you anyway. When Barrett was nine years old, his prostitute mother abandoned him. I doubt if anyone ever knew who his father was. But whatever his mother was, Barrett seems to have been devoted to her, so maybe it unhinged him when she just walked out. For years the skinny little kid did what he could to survive. For the first year he nearly starved, but then he stole a cooking knife from a restaurant kitchen and learned to use it. There was a story that I couldn’t verify that said he chopped off the fingers of another kid who tried to take food from the garbage can that Doc considered his.”

  “No,” Samantha whispered, putting her hand to her throat in pain.

  Mike continued. “When Barrett was fourteen, he was so malnourished he looked as though he were ten and he was sick of living hand to mouth every day. Scalpini was the crime boss of that day so Barrett decided to work for him. Barrett had a hell of a time getting through Scalpini’s bodyguards, but he did one night just as Scalpini was sitting down to dinner at his favorite Italian restaurant. The bodyguards tried to kick Barrett out, but Scalpini said he wanted to hear what the kid had to say. Barrett said he wanted to work for Scalpini, that he would do anything for him, anything at all. All of them, including Scalpini, laughed at this kid who looked to be a child, but Scalpini, still laughing, said, ‘Bring me Guzzo’s heart, kid, and you got a job.’ ”

  Again, Samantha looked away from him. She wasn’t sure where he was going with his story, but she knew that she didn’t want to hear it. Mike didn’t say a word until she looked back at him.

  “The next day, when Scalpini sat down to dinner, this scrawny, dirty kid tried to get through the bodyguards. Scalpini, probably liking the kid’s perseverance and hero worship, waved him through. B