Lie, Lie Again - Stacy Wise Page 0,41

the bathroom sounded, and she knew he was brushing his teeth. Seconds later, footsteps padded toward the bed. Keeping her breathing steady, she waited for the covers to shift, but there was only silence. Was he checking his phone? Stretching?

As she strained to decipher what he was doing, his voice sounded through the dark—a husky whisper that swept across her.

“I’m so sorry, baby. I was an asshole, and I know it.” The covers shifted, and she felt his weight next to her. He kissed her cheek. “I love you, Em. Always. I hope you know that.” He wrapped his arms around her, and she softened into him. This is what matters. In the end, it’s all that matters.

CHAPTER TWELVE

Sylvia turned up the volume on her TV until it was loud enough to drown out the sounds of the teacher wailing like a wet cat in the apartment below. And that boyfriend of hers. For God’s sake, he sounded like a fat football player grunting through his last set of jumping jacks. If they kept this up, she might be inclined to call the cops to file a noise complaint.

She poured herself a hefty shot of vodka and reached for a lime from the bowl on the kitchen counter. With a sharp knife, she sliced it into quarters before squeezing the juice into her glass.

The first sip went down like fire, but a smooth warmth followed, reaching all the way to her injured wrist. The pain was significantly reduced. It wasn’t because of the miraculous healing powers of vodka. She was certain of that. It was because of the body’s capacity to focus on the sharpest pain, causing any other suffering to all but disappear. The stabbing pain was the blade in her back. Or heart. She couldn’t really pin down where the knife had entered.

Sliding her laptop to the table’s edge, she brought it to life. It was time to do some investigating. Using one finger, she typed the name Hugh Martin into the search bar. The profile for a dead composer popped up. Huh. How sad. Hugh Martin is dead, she thought with a smirk. Scrolling down, she searched further, skimming the results.

Nothing.

“Oh yeah, Hugh? You can’t hide from me,” she whispered to the screen.

What had Lily said his company name was? Global something. Think, Sylvia. Global Imaging? No, that couldn’t be it. He was a consultant of sorts. At least, so he’d claimed. That was it! She chuckled to herself. Global Consulting. She typed the name, and the company website appeared. There, in the top left-hand corner, was the employee directory tab. Here goes. She clicked on it and scrolled down until she saw his picture next to his name. Hugh M. Pacheco. So it appeared he’d used his middle name as his last. Clever. He wore a crooked smile in his photo, as though someone had said something funny to encourage him to laugh. His eyes were warm and friendly. Oh, Hugh, she thought. Why did you have to do this? He looked so affable in his picture. Reliable. Well, this was one more bit of evidence that not everything was as it seemed. Hugh had created an alternative persona for himself for the sole purpose of getting what he wanted. Sure, she had adapted her likes to his, but where was the harm in that? No one suffered by her pretending to enjoy the Sunday paper. And she really had come to like the powdered creamer, strangely enough.

Reading the company address from the website, she copied it down on a sheet of paper. Next, she googled his full name. Just as she suspected, a different address from the one she knew appeared. If she was calculating correctly, it was less than a mile from her apartment. How terribly convenient. It would make her first visit that much easier.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

Sunday, March 12

Embry was off to do the weekly shopping despite the fact that it was pouring rain and despite the fact that they should be at church. She flicked on her turn signal as the wipers screeched and squealed across the windshield. The noise made her want to cover her ears and scream. She couldn’t help but feel annoyed that Brandon hadn’t changed them even though it hadn’t rained in ages. It was his job to deal with the cars and the yard, and it was her job to do the cleaning and shopping. It was how they’d decided to split up the work. She was doing