Page 37 of Everyone’s a Liar

Bryce took the lead, touching the handgun that she’d holstered beneath her shirt. She didn’t intend to use it unless they were under extreme circumstances, but it was reassuring to know she had easy access to a weapon.

Her agreement to help Livia had been an impulsive decision that she assumed would take a couple hours of her time. She’d track down the idiot who’d tried to catfish her friend and send him a stern warning. That would be that. It’d never occurred to her that it would turn into a full-fledged manhunt that now included the New Orleans underworld.

Pushing open the door behind the second desk, Bryce discovered a short hallway that led to a bathroom and a storage space stuffed with filing cabinets and plastic tubs piled to the ceiling. At the end was a set of stairs that led to the narrow attic with a sloped ceiling and bare, wood-plank floor. It was an open space with a bed shoved under the lone window and a narrow counter that held a hot plate and a small microwave.

It was unpleasantly claustrophobic. Probably because there were stacks of dirty dishes, empty bottles of booze, and takeout boxes near the microwave, while wrinkled clothes were tossed in every corner. It looked like a frat boy’s apartment, not a trained policeman’s.

“What a mess.” Livia turned in a slow circle. “Gross.”

“Yeah, don’t touch anything.” Bryce moved toward the chair where a dozen magazines were stacked. She rolled her eyes. Porn, of course. “We were given permission to be here but I don’t have jurisdiction if we find a clue. Look around and see if there’s anything that might reveal if Larry Sutton is also Jacob Pearson.”

A second later she heard Livia’s sharp gasp. “It’s him.”

Bryce turned to discover her friend standing next to the nightstand near the bed. She hurried to join her, bending down to study the framed picture of a man standing near a lake, holding a fish in one hand and a rod in the other. Behind the man she could see a cabin with a sign carved over the door.

“That’s the man who called himself Jacob Pearson?” she asked, trying to match the fuzzy image that Livia had sent her with this photo. “You’re sure?”

“Absolutely.”

Livia reached out, almost as if she intended to smash the picture, but Bryce caught her arm and pulled her back.

“No, don’t touch,” she warned. “This is confirmation that Jacob Pearson and Larry Sutton are the same man, but we still don’t know what’s happened to him. I don’t want to disturb anything.”

Digging her phone out of her pocket, Bryce took a picture of the photo before turning and taking pictures of the rest of the attic. It was easy to overlook things when you were doing a quick walk-through. She would study the images later to see if she missed an obvious clue.

Once she was done, Bryce tucked her phone away and walked toward the sheet that was hung from a rod tacked onto the wall. She pulled it aside to reveal the closet that was stuffed with a vast assortment of clothes.

No. Not clothes, she silently corrected herself. Costumes.

At one end there were expensive, tailored suits, including a tux, followed by cashmere sweaters and slacks. There were more casual jeans and shirts in the center and at the other end were a dozen uniforms—utility worker, security guard, cop, military officer, chef—and scrubs with badges that had Larry Sutton’s picture with a variety of names printed beneath them. There were even a couple of dresses, as if he’d been in drag for one of his jobs.

“The man might be a sleaze, but he was thorough,” Bryce said. “He could blend into any background with this stuff. Unfortunately, there’s no way to tell if anything is missing. If he packed a bag and left town, we’d never know.”

“He probably got paid and is enjoying a vacation on the beach,” Livia snapped.

“It’s possible. At least we know that Jacob Pearson never existed and that we’re searching for Larry Sutton, ex-cop and current private investigator. He can’t hide forever.” Bryce dropped the curtain. “Let’s get out of here.”

CHAPTER 10

They returned to Bryce’s SUV and, giving her friend the address to her house, Livia settled back in the leather seat and considered what they’d learned.

She knew that Jacob was Larry Sutton. And that he was a private investigator. And that he’d disappeared. All significant discoveries, but they didn’t really answer any of the questions that haunted her.

Why had Larry manipulated his way into her life? Who had hired him? What was he looking for in her house? And why had he suddenly taken off?

Bryce allowed her to stew in silence for several minutes, but at last she gave in to the concern that had been shimmering in her eyes since they’d left the office.

“Are you okay?” She shook her head as the words burst out. “Sorry, I keep asking that, don’t I?”

“I don’t mind,” Livia assured her friend, watching the neighborhoods blend from residential to touristy to business to residential again. “Honestly, I’m not sure if I’m okay or not.”

“What’s bothering you?”

“My relationship with Jacob Pearson keeps getting more bizarre. It was bad enough when I thought he was another run-of-the-mill creep who was sniffing through my underwear drawer. But then he disappeared along with all his social media and I thought I’d been catfished. Which was strange, but it happens. And now I find out he’s a private investigator.” She hesitated, waiting for the knot in her stomach to tighten. Instead, she felt nothing. Was she finally numb? “I don’t even know what to do with that,” she admitted. “It just doesn’t make sense.”

“You’re right. It doesn’t make sense. We need to figure out who hired him.”

Livia flinched. She was still trying to process the fact that Jacob had been a private investigator. She hadn’t reached the part where she worried about who had hired him.