Liar Liar - James Patterson Page 0,17

for approval to take the detective’s exam before he was caught goofing off in a nightclub.

“So what are the current leads?” Vada asked, lifting her eyes to his.

“There aren’t any. We’ve talked to as many foster parents, prison guards, teachers, and institutional carers who ever dealt with Regan as we can. There are some we’re still tracking down. This is what I was working on yesterday.” Whitt handed Vada a sheaf of documents. “Interviews with his former cellmates and prison associates. We’re still waiting on the psych report. It’s taking some time, apparently. I’m pretty sure I know what it’s going to say, though. We’ve checked out everyone he knew who’s still incarcerated, and everyone who’s been released since Regan got out, to see if they know where he might be hiding.”

“What about his phone? Bank accounts? Where was he living after his incarceration? Where was he born?”

“When he got out of prison, he secured a ground-floor apartment in Newtown,” Whitt said. “Not far from where Sam Blue was living. We checked it. It was stripped—but apparently he didn’t own much anyway. His cards and phone have been dead since he went on the run. We don’t know what he’s using for money. The house his parents owned when he was born was an ordinary little working-class place in Greenacre. It’s industrial estate now. There’s a paper factory there. We’ve had eyes on the place for weeks, but there’s been no sight of Regan there or anywhere near it.”

Vada smoothed out the papers before her, seemed to want to absorb the images and words she was seeing with her fingertips. She was quiet for a long time, but when she spoke, Whitt was taken aback by what she said.

“Can we talk about Harry?”

Chapter 23

“UH.” WHITT SHRUGGED. “Sure. What do you want to know?”

“I want to know where she fits into all this,” Vada said. “Harry’s personnel file went missing from the records room—so we can assume that Regan is interested in her now. Interested enough to kill two innocent police officers just for a snippet of information on her.”

“It’s so awful.” Whitt rubbed his weary eyes. “She doesn’t deserve this.”

“You sound almost like…” Vada began. But when Whitt looked at her, she blushed and turned away.

“Like what?”

“I don’t know.” She said. “Like her boyfriend or something. You care so deeply for her. You feel her pain.”

“Of course I feel her pain,” Whitt said. “She’s my friend.”

“You moved all the way across the country for her,” Vada went on.

“I did,” Whitt said. “She needed someone to be with her during her brother’s trial.”

“But you’d only worked one case with her,” Vada said. “You’d only known her weeks. That’s a huge commitment, isn’t it? For someone you’ve just met?”

Whitt hadn’t thought much about the time before Sam Blue’s trial, his decision to leave everything in Perth and transfer to the New South Wales Police Force to be beside Harry when she needed him. The move had seemed to come very naturally, had seemed almost like his only option. The right thing to do. No one had ever asked him to explain it.

“I guess I came because it didn’t seem like Harry had any other real friends,” he said. Only in voicing the words did he realize their sad truth. Yes, he knew Harry to have acquaintances, and she was close in a father-daughter kind of way to their boss, Chief Trevor Morris. There was Tox Barnes, but Barnes was so aloof and weird as to fail to count as being “close” to anyone.

Whitt was about to go on, to defend Harry’s friendlessness somehow by explaining that she took some time to be understood, that she was damaged and volatile but loyal and clever in equal measure. But before he could speak, his phone rang. It gave them both a start. A private number. He picked it up.

“Detective Edward Whittacker.”

“Whitt,” Harry said, “we need to talk.”

Chapter 24

SHE SOUNDED DESPERATE. On edge. He stood, exhilaration bolting through him.

“Harry!”

He couldn’t help it. He’d not heard from his partner since she disappeared from the airport. Vada stood with him, her face tense.

“Harry, where are you? Are you okay? Tell me where you are. I’ll come get you.”

“I’m in communication with Regan,” she said, ignoring his pleas.

Whitt’s mouth became dry. “What?”

“He’s started calling me,” Harry said. “He was behind the shooting at the station. He went to—”

“—to steal your records. We know.”

“He has everything on me, and he says things are about to get personal.” She paused,