Liars, Inc. (7 page)

December 6th

THE NEXT MORNING I HAD
two messages. One was a happy birthday text from Parvati. The other was a voicemail from my two favorite FBI agents. They had a few routine follow-up questions. Could I please call them at my earliest convenience so they could stop by my house?

Earliest convenience? How about never?

Darla frowned when I told her about the message. She was busy trying to put impossibly tiny sneakers on one of the twins. “Your dad and I both have to open the shop today,” she said. “I know you're eighteen now, but I don't like the idea of you dealing with those guys alone.”

“I'll be okay.” I kept my voice casual, like it was no big deal.

She dodged a kick from Ji Hyun. “If you're sure,” she said
dubiously. “I'll call the school when we get to work and let them know you're going to be late.”

Ben appeared from the kitchen wearing black surf shorts and a T-shirt from last year's Malibu Open. He was holding a cup of coffee in one hand and a doughnut in the other. “Christ, Darla. It's his birthday. Just let him stay home.”

“Could I?” I hadn't slept well, and crashing on the couch all day sounded like an excellent idea.

“I guess it'd be all right,” Darla said. “And then we can all go out to eat tonight, okay? Unless you've got plans with your friends.”

Not likely, since one of my friends was MIA and the other wasn't allowed to hang out with me. “Dinner sounds good,” I said.

Darla looked forlornly at the tiny pink sneaker in her hand. Sprawled on her back on the sofa, Ji Hyun squealed and kicked her legs as if she thought being dressed by force was a really fun game. Nearby, Jo Lee sat on the floor trying to fit one of her own sparkly sneaks into her mouth. I pinned Ji's legs against the sofa's threadbare fabric one at a time, and she pouted as Darla wrestled the sneakers onto her tiny feet.

“I think she might need a bigger size already.” Darla shook her head. “I can't believe how quickly kids grow up.”

Ji Hyun kicked at the sofa and started wailing. Immediately, her twin sister joined in.

“Not quick enough for me.” Ben winked at Darla to show her he was kidding. He chugged down the rest of his coffee and set the mug on top of the TV. With half a doughnut dangling from his mouth, he picked up Jo Lee and spun her around in a circle. Immediately, she quit crying and made a little cooing sound.

Amanda peeked out from the entrance to the kitchen. “Happy birthday, Max.” She held out a box wrapped in snowman wrapping paper.

I ruffled her hair. “You didn't have to get me anything, Mandy.”

“I made it,” she said proudly.

“Seriously?” That could be good or bad. I ripped through the paper and prepared to gush over whatever was inside the box. Folding back a few squares of toilet paper that she had used as tissue paper, I uncovered a coffee mug painted with brightly colored surfboards and coated with a shiny varnish. It was actually pretty awesome.

“You made this?” I asked.

“Well, I painted it,” she clarified.

“It totally rocks.” I leaned down to give her a hug.

“How come you're not dressed yet?” Amanda asked. “You get to skip school because it's your birthday?”

“Yeah.” I smiled.

“Are you still going to give me a ride home?”

“Of course.” Darla didn't baby Amanda because of her cystic
fibrosis, but she hated the thought of her having to ride home on the crowded, dirty bus, so I always picked her up.

Her eyes narrowed. “Do I get to skip school when it's
my
birthday?”

“You can on your
eighteenth
birthday,” Darla said, shooting me a grateful look. I didn't know if it was because I was picking Amanda up from school or because I didn't say anything about the FBI dropping by later. Amanda was already a little too obsessed with death and detectives for a eleven-year-old. If she found out Preston was missing she'd want to help investigate.

“Mom, can we put the tree up tonight?” Amanda bounced up and down on her toes. “My friend Clara said her mom put their tree up the day after Thanksgiving.”

“Sure,” Darla said. “We'll do it after we get home from dinner.”

Not exactly my dream birthday, but if I couldn't be with Parvati then tree-trimming with my little sis wouldn't be too bad. I twisted the mug around in my hands to check out the painted surfboards one more time. Amanda was actually pretty cool for a kid. I hoped she would rub off on the twins as they got older.

After everyone headed out, I relaxed in front of the TV. There was still no word about Preston's disappearance, not even on the local news. I knew I should call Agent McGhee,
but he probably didn't expect me to skip school. The twins would be at the babysitter's and my parents would be at the shop until sunset. I could give McGhee a call an hour before I had to pick up Amanda from school. That would be a convenient excuse to cut the “routine follow-up questions” short if things got tense. I couldn't leave my chronically ill little sister without a ride home, could I?

Slouching down on the sofa, I flipped through the channels. I heard Senator DeWitt's name mentioned on a local news show and paused, thinking maybe people were finally talking about Pres. Nope. It was just a couple of analysts speculating about who the new president would appoint to his cabinet.

I sent Preston another text—
Seriously dude. Please call or text someone
—and when that went unanswered I tried to call him. The phone rang four times before going to voicemail. I didn't leave a message. As I clicked the red disconnect button on my phone, I thought of something. Preston's phone couldn't be dead. If it was, it would have gone straight to voicemail with no ringing.

My stomach churned. Pres and his phone were never separated. To my knowledge, he had never lost it. For the first time, I thought that maybe the feds were right. Maybe something terrible
had
happened, and I was making it worse by covering things up.

I DOZED OFF FOR A
couple of hours, and when I woke up I flipped through our measly fifteen channels again, but every show seemed to be about kidnappings or disappearances. I flicked off the TV with a sigh of disgust. Then I slapped together a salami sandwich and plunked down at the kitchen table. My stomach was growling, but my mouth was dry, my throat closing up as I tried to choke down bites of bread and meat.

It was hopeless. I needed to just get dressed, call McGhee, and get it over with. Otherwise I was going to sit around all day and worry about what he and Gonzalez wanted. I pushed my hair out of my face and headed for my bedroom. As I
turned the corner into the living room, I skidded to a stop on the rug.

Parvati was sitting cross-legged on the sofa. I hadn't even heard the front door open or close.

“Jesus.” I swiped at my mouth quickly, hoping there weren't any breadcrumbs stuck to my lips. “Ninja much?”

“Well, I didn't want any of your neighbors to see me loitering on the porch, just in case they know my parents.”

Not likely. My street was full of blue-collar types. Waiters, retail workers, the occasional mechanic or plumber. Maybe her pool man lived in the neighborhood. “Much better for my neighbors to see a strange girl walking in like she owns the place,” I said. “Aren't you supposed to be playing office assistant?”

“Aren't you supposed to be dressed?” she fired back, taking in my plaid pajama bottoms with an amused glance. “What is going on?”

“Preston still hasn't come home.”

“I gathered that much. I get to school and there's no you and no Preston and then there's suits busting open both of your lockers and interviewing people—”

“Wait, what?” Shit. Maybe lying to the FBI had done no good at all. There were so many people who might blab about Liars, Inc. if McGhee or Gonzalez asked. “What did you tell
them?” I asked, trying not to panic.

“Nothing. They didn't talk to me.” She sounded a little bit hurt that she hadn't been interrogated. “They only talked to the teachers. And they tried to be slick about opening the lockers. They waited until everyone was in class. No dogs or anything. Just two guys in plain clothes. I saw them when I was sneaking out.”

It sounded like McGhee and Gonzalez were still keeping things quiet for now. “They'll probably ask you stuff eventually. What if they're right and something bad happened, P?”

Parvati glanced around. Her eyes zeroed in on the front window. The sky had gone from clear to white. Thick, fluffy clouds obscured the sun. She dropped her voice slightly. “You think he's really missing? Like kidnapped?”

“I don't know,” I said. “If Pres got arrested or something he would have called one of us, right? Maybe his phone got lost or stolen, and then his car broke down on the way back from Vegas. Maybe I should go look for him.”

“But if he had car trouble he'd just flag down someone else or walk to town, wouldn't he?” Parvati tugged at the ends of her hair, something she only did when she was anxious. “Let's go by his house and see if Esmeralda will let us in his room. Maybe we can find this girl's address or phone number, figure out for sure where he went.”

I had only been in Preston's bedroom a couple of times. We always hung out in the basement. I got the feeling he was really private about his stuff. Even when he had parties, people stayed downstairs or out by the pool.

I checked the time on my phone. I still had almost four hours before I had to pick up Amanda. Plenty of time to run by the DeWitts' and call McGhee afterward. “Okay. Good idea.” I traded my pajama bottoms for a pair of black cargo pants and pulled a hoodie over my T-shirt.

Parvati and I hopped in my car and headed across town to the exclusive neighborhood where Preston lived. This whole area was done up in Christmas decorations. Swags of evergreen twisted their way down lampposts, and picture windows glistened with fake snow.

“Duck down,” I told her as we drove through an ivy-covered stone archway wrapped in white lights. There was a much greater chance people who lived in
this
neighborhood might know her parents.

I slowed my car to a stop a block away from Preston's three-story house. There were two black Lincoln Town Cars parked in front that might have been FBI, as well as a couple of smaller sedans I didn't recognize.

Parvati stared at the line of cars. “It looks like they've got a whole command center set up already.”

“I asked about that. Apparently, the fact that Preston is a
senator's kid means everything gets expedited. They have to assume this could be a political thing until they know otherwise.”

“But Preston is eighteen. He can legally vanish anytime he wants. This doesn't make any sense.” She turned to face me. “How long has it been since you've tried to call him?”

“A couple of hours.”

“Let me try,” Parvati said. “If he did just decide to bail for a while, he'd tell me.”

Was she insinuating that he wouldn't tell
me
? I was the one he asked for the alibi, after all. I waited while Parvati found Preston's name in her contacts menu and pressed call. She put the phone on speaker, and I swear it took an eternity before it started to ring.

And then “Burst into Flames” started playing, ever so faintly. “Did you call me accidentally?” I asked. I pulled my phone out of the side pocket of my cargo pants, but the screen was black. What the hell? “Call him again,” I said.

Parvati called Preston again. Once more, Alexis Destroyer, the lead singer for Kittens of Mass Destruction, started shrieking about how she was going to make me catch fire. It was almost like . . .

Both Parvati and I turned toward the backseat. It was empty except for a crumpled fast food bag and a couple of soda cans. “The trunk,” we said simultaneously.

I reached for my key fob and popped the trunk. I slid out of the car, casting a wary glance at the vehicles down the street. As usual, no one was paying me any attention. Thunder rumbled in the distance. The sky had gone from white to gray. The breeze off the ocean was cool, but a heaviness hung in the air, a thick blanket of humidity that signaled an oncoming storm.
You know how fast things can change around here.
Had Preston been talking about more than just the weather?

I pawed through the camping gear that was still in my trunk. Parvati materialized at my side. She called Preston again. This time the music was louder. I shook the long nylon bag that his fancy tent was in. Nothing. Next I undid the top of my gear bag that was full of cooking equipment. Nothing. I pushed both bags to the side. Nestled at the very bottom of my trunk was a phone.

Preston's phone.

I didn't even know we had the same ringtone.

Parvati's pretty face looked up at us from the screen. It was a picture from when her hair was still long. Above her left shoulder, a red rectangle flashed a low battery warning. Without thinking, I reached for the phone, my fingers closing around it just as Parvati said, “Don't touch it.” Her almond skin paled slightly. “You might mess up any fingerprints.”

“It must have gotten mixed up with his camp stuff and he forgot it,” I said. “No wonder we haven't heard from him. I'm surprised he even made it to Vegas without his cell.”

Parvati was staring at my hand. She didn't seem to have heard a word I had said. “Max,” she started. “Look at your fingers.”

I looked down. My right hand was smeared with flecks of reddish brown. Something that looked like rust.

I transferred Pres's phone to my left hand as Parvati took my right hand in hers, bringing my fingertips close enough to her face so that she could smell them. Before I could stop her, she touched my index finger to her lips.

“It's blood,” she said.