Liar Liar - James Patterson Page 0,22

my eyes. The thousand-yard stare of commuters, tourists going down the coast to see the wineries, farmlands, national parks. I sat tensed as the train pulled away from the station, waiting for someone to recognize me. No one did. Catching my reflection in the window beside me, I could see why. I was a tired, thinned version of the Harriet Blue in the photos the television kept running. My hair was stringy, unwashed. I rubbed my eyes and watched the city shrink into suburbia. The train was warm. I eased out of my hoodie. The movement of the carriage lulled me into an uneasy sleep.

When I dreamed, I saw my brother. One of the many times we were reunited at the Department of Community Services offices after months apart. He’d been waiting for me, looking oddly guilty, his fingers stained yellow from cigarette smoke and his shirt reeking of it as I pulled him close to me. He’d started smoking very young. It always annoyed the DOCS workers. A pair of them sat at the table near him in the wide, sterile meeting room, murals of kittens and bunnies painted on the walls. They were going to brief us on where we were headed next. Promises of longer-term placements, stability that would never come. They watched, bemused, as we hugged, knowing neither of us were huggers.

“You’re getting taller,” I told Sam, patting his greasy teenage hair.

“No, you’re getting shorter.”

“A dual placement,” I’d almost squealed, punching him in the shoulder with glee. “This is awesome! God, I’ve missed you so much! How’d you swing this? Your last family kick you out? What’d you do?”

“Nothing.” His face flushed with guilt. “Nothing. It was all good. I just…I asked to be removed. I needed a change of scene, you know. That’s all.”

I knew when my brother was lying to me. He’d never been very good at it. I remembered taking his arm, trying to meet his eyes.

“Bullshit,” I said. “There’s something wrong. What happened? Some fucking pedo try to mess with you? Did you tell your caseworker?”

“Nah, nah, Harry, it’s fine.” He rubbed my shoulder.

“Then what?”

“Nothing.”

“What?”

“Look, I met this guy.” His voice was low. Uncertain. “Another kid.”

“In the same family?”

“No, another foster kid. His placement was near mine.”

“What happened? What’d he do?”

“Nothing. I don’t know. He was just…” Sam shrugged. Wouldn’t look at me. “Just a bit intense for me, I guess. A bit weird. I got creeped out. That’s all.”

“What, the guy have a crush on you or something?” I snorted.

“Would you two stop messing around so we can get started over here?” one of the DOCS ladies said. “Harriet? Harriet. Harriet Blue…”

“Harriet Blue.”

I was snapped out of the dream by the sound of my own name. My neck was sore from leaning my head against the train window at an odd angle. The voice was coming from the headphones of a young Asian man in a red cap sitting across the aisle from me, watching a news clip on an iPad. The volume was so high, I could hear every word of the broadcast.

“Much of their work, police say, has been chasing down false sightings of Banks across the state, some coming from as far away as Broken Hill. And while the public wonders where Banks will strike next, the search continues for Detective Harriet Blue, sister of…”

I’d been paying so much attention to the flashes of the program I could see on the screen, I didn’t notice the man with the iPad looking right at me.

I nodded acknowledgment, trying to play it cool, but as I did, the screen in his hands was filled with a picture of me.

He looked at the screen.

Then at me.

Chapter 30

I GRABBED MY bag and walked quickly down the aisle toward the stairs. The other passengers seemed to sense my urgency and glanced up. When I turned, I saw the red-cap guy with the iPad following me. I cursed and sped up.

“Hey! Hey!” he called. “Excuse me? Miss?”

I ignored him, taking the steep stairs to the carriage entry two at a time. There were people here on the long benches beside the doors. I held on to the handrail, trying not to panic. It was one guy. I could fend him off.

“Excuse me?” he said as he got to the bottom of the stairs.

“Dude, leave me alone,” I whispered.

“Is this you?” He lifted the iPad, pointed to the picture of my face, the video paused on the screen. “Are you Harriet Blue?”

At the mention of