Liars, Inc. (22 page)

“Fuck you, Adam.” She lifts her chin. “Maybe that was true at the start, but it's not true now.” She looks over at me. “From our first date, you made me feel things no one else ever had. I need you to believe me.”

I barely hear her. Everything is starting to make sense. Adam started out trying to hurt me with Parvati, but
somewhere along the way she must have gotten tired of the game. The fake Halloween party at his house—they'd been fighting before I got there. Maybe having sex with me right in front of him was her way of saying she was done blindly obeying him. And Adam didn't like it, so he decided to frame me for “Preston's” murder when he skipped town. He gets free and I get screwed—two-for-one deal.

“I swear I didn't know what he was planning,” Parvati continues. “I thought it was just a stupid game.”

“For once she's telling the truth. This was all me,” Adam gloats. “Once I sold you on the idea of selling alibis at school, everything seemed to fall into place. I knew you'd hook me up with a cover story, especially if it meant getting me away from your girlfriend.”

“So you left your bloody phone in my trunk, stole my shark's tooth, and called in a fake tip that we'd been arguing?” As much as what I just learned is killing me inside, I have to keep Adam talking long enough to figure out a way to distract him. I just need him to get sloppy with the gun for a second.

Just one second.

“Basically,” he says. “But when I saw that dear old Dad had bailed you out, I figured he might have an attack of conscience and buy you a fancy lawyer who'd get you off on a technicality. I couldn't handle the thought of you going free.
I had to step up the plan one more time.”

“So now you're going to kill me instead?”

“I'm going to kill both of you. I just haven't decided who to kill first.”

“Me,” Parvati blurts out. “Kill me first. I deserve it.” She turns to me and mouths something that looks a lot like “you.”

Adam aims his gun at her chest and shrugs. “Fair enough.”

It takes me a second to realize what Parvati said was “now.”

“Good-bye, Pervy.” Adam's finger squeezes the trigger.

“No!” With my feet still bound, I lunge for him, just as flame bursts from the barrel.

THE ROOM EXPLODES WITH SOUND.
From the corner of my eye, I see Parvati's body spasm. Blood blooms in the folds of her sari. “No!” I scream again. My arms attempt to circle Adam's waist as my head connects with his stomach. But he's stronger and heavier than me. He resists my tackle and pushes back. We land on the wooden coffee table, which collapses under our weight. My left arm ends up at the bottom of the pile, folded in a way that arms shouldn't fold. I howl in agony. My vision goes white for a second and I lose track of the gun. Then I forget the pain. Fists fly. I push Adam up and away from me. I throw punches in every direction. My arm feels like it's being pulled apart at the joints. I hear a
grunt and a stumble, and then the sound of the gun skittering across the floor.

Adam's fist connects with the side of my face. Warm liquid flows. I turn and spit blood onto the cabin's floor. Parvati is crumpled on the sofa, her skin pale, her sari a mess of blood. I have no idea if she's alive, but I can't help her. Not until I deal with Adam.

I flail toward him, lashing out at this face and throat. “You bastard,” I say. “Look what you did!” My ears are still buzzing from the gunshot and my voice sounds hazy and far away. “I loved her. And apparently she loved
you
. But all you did was use her. You've never loved anyone in your whole life, have you?”

Adam leaps back to his feet, his mouth dripping blood, his chest caving with each breath. “I loved the Cantrells. But you ruined that.”

“You loved them? After what? A couple of hours together?” I kick off one of my shoes and manage to free my feet from the duct tape, which has loosened during our fight. I clamber to a standing position, gasping for breath.

Adam glances over at Parvati. “How long did it take you to fall for
her
?” he asks. “Five minutes?”

“Fuck off.” We stand there for a moment, dancing like prizefighters and gasping for breath. The front door is
behind me. I could escape, maybe, but then what? Adam took my phone when he tied me up. I can't leave Parvati to die.

Adam doesn't seem interested in running away either. He could make it to the back door of the cabin, but instead he's slowly advancing toward me. And I won't beat him in a fistfight, especially not with what feels like a broken arm. Desperately, I scan the dimly lit room. Where the hell is that gun?

A glint of metal beneath the sofa catches my eye. Adam catches me looking and lunges a split second before I do. He lands on the ground. I land on top of him. We both grapple for the gun and it slides farther under the sofa—all the way against the wall. Screaming in pain, I push Adam away with my bad arm and snake my good arm into the darkness. My fingers close around something, but it's too rough to be the gun. Adam grins wickedly as he pulls his arm back. He's got the gun. I've got a broken coffee table leg.

He hops back to his feet and points the gun at my head. “Wood against bullets. Want to make a wager about how this turns out?” His eyes are gray fire.

“You should get some help for that gambling problem,” I say, trying to get in position to attack him with the table leg. I curl my legs around so I'm on my knees. Now at least I can get up without putting weight on my injured arm.

“Your death will devastate poor
Darla
. That's what she gets
for changing her mind.”

Rage surges through me. My whole body tenses into a coil. “Don't bring her into this. You could've gotten adopted too if you'd stayed at Rosewood. You made the choice to become Preston DeWitt. You made the choice to
stay
Preston DeWitt.”

“And now I'm making the choice to kill you. It's perfect, really. No one will suspect a dead man of murder.” Adam's finger curls around the trigger once more. “Good-bye, Maximus.”

I WISH I COULD SAY
my life passed before my eyes or that I found enlightenment in the moment when I knew I was going to die. But all I see is my sister Amanda's smile when she gave me the painted mug for my birthday. All I think about is Darla, and how she'll somehow blame herself for this.

And then I see a whirl of white and blood lunge toward Adam.

Parvati.

The side of her hand slams into the back of his knee. He stumbles. Just enough so that the gun barrel angles toward the ground.

It's all the opening I need. I swing my table leg like a
baseball bat. Wood collides with Adam's hand and the gun goes flying. He screams, but before he can even turn on me, I swing the leg again, this time at his head. I hear the sickening crunch of bone. Adam falls to his knees.

I drop the table leg and race to Parvati's side. She's lying atop the remnants of the coffee table, her ankles still bound with tape. There's bits of wood in her hair, and her ripped sari hangs crookedly on her body

Her skin is so pale. Almost gray.

“Hang on.” I'm trying not to stare at the great blooming flower in her chest.

“Get the gun,” she chokes out. Blood froths between her lips.

I glance wildly around the room. The gun lies next to the TV stand. Adam is sprawled out just inside the front door of the cabin. His phone is half buried in broken coffee table. I reach for it.

“The gun,” Parvati repeats. “Not safe.”

I get the gun and set it next to me. Then I put the phone on speaker and call 911. Keeping Adam in my sight, I press my palms to the bloody wound in Parvati's chest. Her heart beats in my hands.

The phone rings once. “You're going to be okay,” I tell her.

Her lips twitch, almost a smile. “You're lying to me, aren't you?”

The phone rings again. “No,” I assure her. “I'm done lying, to everyone.”

The call connects. “Nine-one-one. What is your emergency?” the dispatcher asks.

“Someone's been shot,” I say. “We need an ambulance.”

“What is your location?”

“I. Shit—I'm not sure. A cabin in the Angeles National Forest. Parvati, can you—”

But she can't give me the address. Her eyelashes have feathered shut and her body is still. All I have to cling to are the faintest breaths escaping from her pursed lips.

“Hold while we triangulate your position,” the dispatcher says soothingly. “Got it. Help is on the way. Stay on the line.”

“Okay. Please hurry.” My hands are still sealed to the wound in Parvati's chest. Her pale skin grows paler.

“You are not allowed to die on me,” I tell her.

She doesn't answer. I try to imagine what she'd say, a smart-ass Parvati response, but my brain comes up empty. My stomach clenches. I put my ear to her lips to make sure she's still breathing.

She is.

Barely.

A few minutes later, a cavalry of sirens and flashing lights pull up outside the cabin. Ambulances, cops, and feds.

The paramedics take Parvati.

The police take Adam.

The FBI agents take me.

“Sorry I didn't get your message sooner,” McGhee says.

I barely hear him. As I duck down to slide into the back of the unmarked sedan, I see the paramedics load Parvati into the ambulance. One of her arms dangles limply over the side of the stretcher.

For only the second time in my life, I pray.

I END UP BACK IN
the same bleach-smelling interrogation room. Things have come full circle, except for the fact that Parvati is apparently in surgery and the doctors don't know if she's going to make it.

The first thing I do is hand over the phone with the videos on it. I explain what's going on in the clips Adam showed me, looking away when they get to the one with Parvati. McGhee and Gonzalez excuse themselves to deal with “official business” and promise to return with coffee.

I almost ask them to bring some whiskey too. My arm is swollen at the elbow and pulsing with its own heartbeat. It feels like someone put it in a blender on high speed.

I should have gone to the hospital before being questioned,
but the pain had dulled on the ride back to Vista Palisades—adrenaline maybe—and I just wanted to get it over with. “My arm is killing me,” I mumble when they finally return like an hour later.

“Your parents are in the lobby. They'll take you to the hospital once we're done here.”

Ben and Darla are probably freaking out, but I'm glad someone called them. I don't want to be alone tonight.

McGhee hands me a cup of coffee. “But you have to stay away from Ms. Amos. There's still a restraining order against you, Max.”

“I don't care. You guys can arrest me. I just want to be there in case—” My voice cracks. I can't finish the sentence. As hurt as I am by what Parvati did to me, it doesn't change the fact that my feelings for her were real. They
are
real. When you care about someone, you can't just turn that off because you learn they betrayed you.

“Why don't you begin at the beginning? We need to hear everything.” For once there's no judgment or accusation in Gonzalez's voice.

“Okay.” I take a deep breath. “So it all started the day I tried to get detention.” I remind them about Liars, Inc. and the alibi. Then I tell them about the pictures I found in the trigonometry book, about going to Rosewood, about being adopted when I was ten. At one point, Gonzalez steps out in
the hallway to take a phone call and McGhee has me wait until he returns before I continue. I rest my head on the cool metal table until he ducks back into the room. Then I tell them about Adam showing me the video clips and drugging me. As the lies multiply and the story gets more tangled and convoluted, I expect the agents to scoff at me and act all incredulous—well, Gonzalez, anyway. But when I finish my tale about accidental shootings, planted evidence, fake adoptions, and one very psychotic kid named Adam Lyons, all McGhee says is, “Thanks, Max. You should probably get that arm looked at now.”

Then his cell phone rings. He answers it, says “I see” a couple of times, and then gets up to leave. “Thanks for coming down,” he says. “We'll be in touch.”

“Wait. What?” My voice rises in pitch. “What about Parvati and me? Are you going to tell people where you got the videos? Are you going to put us in some kind of witness protection program? Senator DeWitt will kill us if he finds out we handed those over.”

“The judge is issuing an arrest warrant for Remington DeWitt as we speak.” McGhee fiddles with his tie. “You won't have to worry about him.”

“Already? How? I thought hidden videos weren't admissible evidence.”

“They're not usually,” he says. “But when we confronted
Claudia DeWitt with that footage, she cracked and confessed everything. That's what took us so long to get back to you. We were next door, interrogating her.”

I remembered Adam saying Claudia had always been the tortured one, the guilty one. Maybe all this time she had been waiting for a chance to make things right—as right as they could be, anyway. “So then it's over?” I ask. “Just like that?”

“I'm sure DeWitt will make bail, so if you feel threatened at any time you can contact the local police for protection. But we have no immediate plans to tell him you were the one who gave us the phone. As far as he knows, it was Adam that turned it in.”

“And what happens to Adam?”

“Two counts of murder, plus kidnapping plus attempted murder? I'd say he's going away for a long time, but I'm sure he'll try to get off on an insanity defense.” McGhee yawns. “Either way, he won't be bothering you or your girlfriend for a while.”

“Speaking of Ms. Amos,” Gonzalez says. “That call I got was an update on her condition. She's out of surgery. Her condition is still critical, but the doctors think she'll pull through.”

I exhale deeply, my body slumping back in the chair as the air leaves my lungs. A knot forms in my chest. “That's good,”
I say. “Thanks for telling me.”

“Remember. You can go to the ER, but you're not allowed near the ICU where she's staying, okay?” McGhee says. “And technically the nurses can't give you any information about how she's doing.”

“I'm just glad she's hanging in there.”

“If she's still your girlfriend, maybe her parents will be willing to update you,” Gonzalez offers. “Give them a phone call. The restraining order doesn't extend to them.” It's probably the nicest thing he's ever said to me.

“I don't even know what she is to me anymore,” I admit. “It's complicated.”

My whole life went from simple to complicated because of one little lie.

I'm ready for things to be easy again.