Page 63 of Liar's Point

She ushered him in and left the door ajar. This guy had her radar up.

“Have a seat,” she said.

He glanced around before taking a seat in the chair closest to the door.

“So.” She sat across the table from him. “What can I do for you, Mr.Wakefield?”

He cleared his throat. “I’ve been reading about the recent case. And I just wanted to correct the record.”

“Record?”

“Or conversation yesterday. I may have given the wrong impression.”

“Oh?” She tipped her head to the side.

He folded his arms over his chest, then unfolded them. His tanned skin contrasted with his starched white dress shirt. According to her research, this guy worked for a financial services firm.

“So, you asked me about Saturday.” He coughed into his hand. “I had a chance to check my calendar. I had a meeting that afternoon, and everything got so busy that—”

“What is it you do, Mr.Wakefield?”

He looked surprised by the question. “Me?”

“Yes.”

“I’m a certified financial planner. My office is in San Antonio, but I work remotely most of the week from our beach house here.” He smiled slightly. “So, you know, a lot of video meetings and conference calls, that sort of thing.”

“I see. So, that’s you and your wife who live here part-time?”

A worry line appeared between his brows. “Yes.” He nodded. “And our two boys. Twins, actually.” He cleared his throat. “Anyway, what I was saying...” He frowned again, as though he’d lost his train of thought.

“Your afternoon got busy Saturday?”

“Yes. Right. So... when you asked me if I had gone running that evening, I thought I had. But, actually, I didn’t make it over there.”

“No?”

“No. I usually run on Saturday evenings. I run most evenings, except Sundays, like I said. But last Saturday, I ended up meeting a friend.”

“A female friend?”

The skin of his neck reddened, despite the tan. He nodded.

“So... you usually go running on Saturday evenings, but not this past Saturday.”

“That’s right,” he said. “I was mistaken when I told you I was jogging then.”

“And your wife, too, right? That’s what you told her?”

He just sat there for a moment. Then he nodded.

She leaned forward, looking him in the eye. “Just to make sure I understand, you have no firsthand knowledge of any people or cars that may or may not have been on the beach near Lighthouse Point on Saturday, February fourteenth. Is that what you’re saying?”

“That’s right.”

“In other words, you lied to me.”

His flush deepened, and he cleared his throat. “I wanted to correct the record so, you know, your investigation didn’t get off track or anything.”

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