Page 65 of Liar
“That’s her, for sure.”
They turn back to me.
My thoughts race around and try to settle on a lie. Denial that I don’t know the man in the picture—though the family resemblance is strong. Acknowledging, with a spectacular show of uncertainty, my brother’s whereabouts. Florida? Singapore? Disbelief that the man in the picture could be of any interest to Ignacio.
But the longer I delay, the more suspicious they’ll become, then none of what I’m about to say will be believable.
I pick up the photo and hold it up for my thorough inspection.
Except ... it’s not Diego’s face staring back at me.
Eduardo?
The picture is snatched from my grasp. “We’ve got the right place.”
One of them steps around the counter and begins searching the large cabinets. The other man heads toward the back.
“Wait! What are you doing?”
“Collecting what’s ours.”
“Excuse me?”
He pauses to offer me the oddest of reassurances. “Don’t interfere and I’ll try not to disrupt those neatly folded piles.”
I stare at him, mouth agape, then jump when the other man shouts, “Back here.”
“What’s going on?” I exclaim. But he’s already hurrying toward the back room.
I’m racing after him when the front door alarm sounds. Javier and three panic-stricken Lobos charge inside, guns drawn.
My gaze shifts from them to the security camera then toward the back room. I try to make sense of what’s happening and keep coming back to that picture.
What has Eduardo done?
My suspicions are confirmed when the two Sureños reappear, carrying three familiar laundry bags. They stop short when they spy the Lobos.
Several tense seconds pass before I interrupt the staring match. “Let them pass,” I order Javier and company. “They’re here to claim what’s theirs, isn’t that right?”
“Beautiful and intelligent,” one of them remarks.
“I’ll be certain to tell Ignacio how cooperative you were,” says the second man.
“Please don’t.”
“Exactly what I said. Beautiful and intelligent. Buenas noches, Luciana.” He reaches into a bag and tosses something toward me. It lands in front of the counter before I can reach for it.
Then, they move past the Lobos and out the door, without a single shot ringing out.
“What was that about?” Javier bursts out. It’s the question of all questions. Except I’m not the person who can answer it.
I move from behind the counter and around to the front, picking up a thick green stack of one-hundred American dollar bills. There must be a thousand dollars bound together here.
His aunt’s clothing—what a liar.
Eduardo played me.
What exactly is his involvement with the Sureños?
