The Lie Maker


 
 
 
 
 
 
 Contents
 
 Cover
 Title Page
 Dedication
 Contents
 One
 Two: Jack
 Three
 Four: Jack
 Five
 Six: Jack
 Seven
 Eight: Jack
 Nine
 Ten: Jack
 Eleven
 Twelve: Jack
 Thirteen
 Fourteen: Jack
 Fifteen
 Sixteen: Jack
 Seventeen
 Eighteen: Jack
 Nineteen
 Twenty: Jack
 Twenty-One
 Twenty-Two: Jack
 Twenty-Three
 Twenty-Four
 Twenty-Five
 Twenty-Six: Jack
 Twenty-Seven
 Twenty-Eight: Jack
 Twenty-Nine
 Thirty: Jack
 Thirty-One
 Thirty-Two: Jack
 Thirty-Three
 Thirty-Four
 Thirty-Five: Jack
 Thirty-Six
 Thirty-Seven: Jack
 Thirty-Eight
 Thirty-Nine: Jack
 Forty
 Forty-One: Jack
 Forty-Two
 Forty-Three: Jack
 Forty-Four
 Forty-Five: Jack
 Forty-Six
 Forty-Seven: Jack
 Forty-Eight
 Forty-Nine: Jack
 Fifty
 Fifty-One
 Fifty-Two: Jack
 Fifty-Three
 Fifty-Four: Jack
 Fifty-Five
 Fifty-Six
 Fifty-Seven: Jack
 Fifty-Eight
 Fifty-Nine
 Sixty: Jack
 Sixty-One
 Sixty-Two
 Sixty-Three: Jack
 Sixty-Four: Jack
 Sixty-Five
 Sixty-Six: Jack
 Sixty-Seven
 Sixty-Eight: Jack
 Sixty-Nine
 Seventy: Jack
 Seventy-One
 Seventy-Two: Jack
 Epilogue: Jack
 Acknowledgments
 About the Author
 Also by Linwood Barclay
 Copyright
 About the Publisher
 
 
 
 
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 Guide
 
 Cover
 Contents
 One
 
 
 
 
 Dedication
 
 
 For Neetha
 
 
 
 
 
 One
 
 “He could have someone out there,” the man said, pulling back the front window curtains a tentative inch. “Watching the house
 right now.”
 
 
 He was careful not to step directly in front of the glass as he peeked outside. It was raining. Streetlights reflected in
 the puddles. He ran his fingers nervously through his thick, dark hair. His handsome features were undercut by the fear in
 his eyes.
 
 
 He wasn’t used to being afraid. He was unaccustomed to the role of prey.
 
 “He’ll have found someone else to do his dirty work,” he said. “Jesus, when are they going to get here?” He looked at his
 watch. “They’re ten minutes late. What the hell’s keeping them?”
 
 
 He’d been directing his comments to his wife, a reedy, auburn-haired twig of a woman who looked ready to break into several
 pieces. She’d made several trips back and forth to the kitchen, trying to keep busy.
 
 
 “Do you think they’ll want coffee?” she asked.
 
 “They’re not going to want any goddamn coffee,” he snapped.
 
 She took a seat on the flowered couch, crossed her right leg over her left, then her left over her right. Some movement on
 the stairs caught her eye, and she spotted the nine-year-old boy sitting on one of the upper steps, watching from between
 the railings. A tear running down his cheek.
 
 
 “Go upstairs,” she told the boy.
 
 “I want to say good—”
 
 “Go to your room and close the door,” she said, flinging her arm, pointing up. As she brought her arm back, she wiped a tear
 from her cheek.
 
 
 The boy sniffed and retreated from view, waited until his mother was no longer looking his way, then resumed his position.
 From where he sat, he could see the front door, the three suitcases sitting there, his father still watching the street. His
 mother was up again, walking around the couch, going into the kitchen. He could hear the rattling of cups, silverware.
 
 
 When she reappeared, her husband was still standing near the window.
 
 “Get away from there,” she said.
 
 He let the curtain fall and stepped away.
 
 “It’s not too late, Rose,” he said. “The two of you can still come. They’ve prepared the documents, in case you change your
 mind.”
 
 
 She stood behind the couch, her hands resting atop the cushions, as though using it as a barrier. Her jaw hardened and her
 eyes moistened.
 
 
 “If you’re desperate for company, why don’t you take your father?” she said. “Maybe he’d like to start all over again with
 you. He’s all alone.”
 
 
 “I can live without ever seeing him again. It’s been years. But the three of us, we belong together. Once I walk out that
 door, once they put me in the car, that’s it. It’s not safe,