The Perfect Lie (The Perfect Stranger) Read online

  I curse Mac and Maggie and Tessa and that new guy for everything they have done to put him here.

  Tyler screams out, but it is muffled and I hold him as tightly as I can.

  After the doctor sews up his shoulder and gives me directions as to how to take care of it, he ushers us out of the office.

  “I have clients coming here soon. Actual animal clients,” he enunciates.

  “Thank you so much. This really means everything to me.”

  “Let's just say that you were never here,” he says.

  “Of course.”

  “I'm serious,” the doctor says. “I could lose my license for doing this. Give me back my phone and get the hell out of here.”

  When I help Tyler into the car this time, he is stronger on his feet. The doctor stopped the blood loss and took care of his shoulder, but it will be a long time before he is fully recovered.

  Still, I'm thankful.

  Grateful.

  He’s sitting here next to me, breathing and alive.

  “Thank you,” Tyler says after I pull out of the parking lot.

  “Of course.”

  “No, I mean it. If it weren't for you… I would've probably died out there.”

  “I would never let that happen.”

  “Thank you for not going to the hospital.”

  “You put me in quite a predicament when you said that I couldn’t take you there. Then you passed out to make it extra exciting.”

  “Well, going to an animal clinic was… brilliant.”

  “I wish I could take all the credit, but the building and the sign sort of popped up and I thought… What the hell?”

  Tyler laughs and then grabs onto his shoulder and winces in pain.

  “You have to take it easy for a while,” I say.

  “Yeah, but how do I do that?”

  We drive for a while, nowhere in particular. Frankly, I have no idea what to do at this point. We don't have much money, a few thousand dollars that Tessa gave him earlier, but that's about it.

  “Do you think that I should go back to the crater?” I ask.

  Tyler's eyelids are closed and he doesn't respond.

  His chest moves up and down with each breath so I decide to let him rest.

  When Tessa, Mac, and the rest of them left, they only put one barrel of money into their car.

  They left the other one.

  Do I dare go back?

  I'm sure that they'll be back for it later, they just didn't want to deal with Tyler at that moment.

  I decide that I have to try. I don't have anywhere else to go and I'm not too far away from the crater.

  With Tyler asleep next to me, I drive back, following the exact route that brought me here.

  The closer I get, the harder my heart starts to beat.

  My stomach jumps up into my throat and each breath becomes extremely laborious.

  Still, I drive.

  2

  Isabelle

  This is the last place I want to be. I know that it's not safe.

  Mac and the others have left a barrel of money and the only reason they drove away in the first place was to leave me to deal with Tyler by myself.

  But that doesn't mean that they're not going to be back.

  I grab onto the wheel, watching my knuckles turn white. I'm the only one on this dusty road and, for a while, it feels like I’m the only one anywhere.

  When I see the sign for the crater and drive past the enormous granite boulders bursting out of the desert, I slow down and then come to a sudden stop.

  Tyler is still asleep.

  I look down at him and try to decide what to do.

  I could just go. I could just turn around, right here, right now, and drive away.

  I'm tempted.

  Of course I am.

  Driving away would mean safety and security, but for how long?

  Tessa only gave Tyler a couple thousand dollars. I'm not sure how much it is, I haven't counted it yet.

  The amount of money in a barrel?

  That's got to last a really long time. That's actually enough to start a new life and maybe even pay off my debt. Who knows?

  I put my foot on the gas and accelerate.

  I haven't given my debt of $100,000 much thought today, and it suddenly all comes back to me.

  My mother had borrowed the money and now she has disappeared. I have no idea if it's of her own volition or on the direct order of someone else.

  Maybe she's even dead.

  Either way, the debt now belongs to me. I owe them a hundred thousand dollars and if I don't pay, then they’re going to tell the police exactly where Tyler is.

  I don't know how they know.

  I thought that they had traced my phone, but they somehow managed to get the number of this burner phone as well.

  They must've followed me here because they knew exactly what motel we were staying at before we went to see Tessa.

  The one thing that I know is that these are not the kind of men to fuck around with.

  I finally approach the gas station, where the next turn left goes to the crater. It's a tall, dirty, and dusty operation with old pumps that require you to go inside to pay for gas. It’s right next to a nonoperational motel standing empty and abandoned, waiting for guests for all eternity.

  Besides the mountains and the creosote bushes, there is nothing much else here but the nonoperational motel.

  When I drive up to the spot near a collection of creosote bushes where I had left money, a strange sense of déjà vu overwhelms me. Of course, I have been here before, but it feels almost as if that happened in a dream.

  I glance over at Tyler, who is still asleep.

  Maybe I can get all this done before he wakes up.

  My car had made imprints in the sandy dirt, leading me straight back to the spot where it all happened. When I park, I peer into the distance to make sure that there are no other cars coming this way.

  I close the door lightly after getting out to try not to wake Tyler. Then I run over to the place where I left the barrel. Luckily, the lid is closed, so the cash didn't get tossed all over the desert.

  The barrel is heavy and impossible to move. I go back to the car and pull it over closer, grabbing a small duffel bag from the trunk. It takes a few handfuls to fill it up and I place it carefully near one side.

  Searching around for anything else that can be stuffed with cash, I find a Starbucks paper bag in the footwell and fill it up.

  I also find a small plastic bag with the Rite Aid logo stuffed underneath the driver’s seat. But that’s it. No more bags. What do I do now?

  I hide the money under the seats. I work diligently to stuff as many bundles as I can under there, carefully straightening the rolled up ones to fit in more and more.

  I don't want any of it to be visible just in case anyone looks in thinking something is suspicious.

  Suddenly, I hear the roar of the engine. I look up and I see a car flying toward me. It's covered in dust and I can't make out what it is, but I freeze for a moment trying to decide what to do.

  Grabbing the lid, I cover up the barrel and then pour some sand onto it hoping that will be enough to not draw attention.

  If it's Mac or Tessa, then I'm probably dead, but if it's just a bystander, someone driving through, then I might still have a chance.

  The car is still out in the distance and I quickly get into the driver’s seat and start the engine.

  I turn away from the main road and move further into the desert.

  I need somewhere to hide. For second, I'm tempted to drive past the car to see who it is, but I don't dare.

  If it's just a hiker, then of course it's no problem.

  But what if it's Mac? He still has a gun and he knows how to use it a lot better than I do.

  I drive further and further into the desert. I drive fast, probably faster than I should on a gravel road. The tires pick up so much dust that I can’t see a thing out of the back window.

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sp; The road leads me all around the crater and eventually connects with the road that I took to get here.

  I still have no idea if the car that I spotted belonged to Mac or someone just driving by. I'm tempted to go back and to get the rest of the money, but this time I stop myself.

  I’m lucky to have gotten away. This Honda Accord is stuffed with cash. I got nearly two-thirds of what was in the barrel. I don't know how much I have, but it's a significant amount and it may be enough. At least, it's enough for me to rent a spot and stay there with Tyler while he recuperates.

  After that? I don't know.

  My life, up until this point, up until this trip, up until I met Tyler, consisted of strictly regimented hours.

  I went to work.

  I came home.

  I worked out.

  I ate dinner at the same time every day.

  I did practically the same thing all the time, all in an effort to create some sort of order in my world.

  No amount of order ever seemed to be enough to make my anxiety and worries go away.

  Whatever I did, I always craved more.

  Now? Now things have changed. My life is nothing but one shock after another and yet my anxiety level has somehow diminished.

  I go through my days just trying to get through until evening. Then I just want to get enough sleep so that I'm rested enough to face what's going to come the next day.

  Today was by far one of the hardest days I've had ever. We drove out to the desert expecting one thing. Then Tyler got shot. I saved his life and then saved most of his money.

  Who are you, Isabelle? I ask myself. Who are you becoming?

  My life with Tyler, these days on the road, have made me feel excited, depressed, overwhelmed, and out-of-control.

  I feel those things and yet at the same time I also feel the freest that I ever have.

  It's almost as if I were forcing myself to relive the trauma that I felt being trapped in that apartment in New York by my ex-boyfriend and all the time later in my own house. He refused to let me leave and after I was free of him, I forced myself to stay home and to live this quiet little sheltered life away from worrying about all the things that I used to worry about.

  I'm not saying that it is going to be like this for everyone. Anxiety and depression are really serious conditions and I have not just snapped out of them.

  However, being here, on the road with Tyler, helping him along, and living a life of adventure, has made me realize that maybe my world doesn't have to be so small.

  Perhaps, I was making it small for no reason at all.

  3

  Isabelle

  I keep driving just as the sun disappears over the horizon. I don't know where I'm going except that I'm going north.

  I don't want to go Los Angeles. Cities are easy to blend in with, but they're expensive and I can't leave my car full of cash on the street.

  I also can't shovel all of that money out with everyone looking. I need to find somewhere secluded and private.

  A cabin maybe?

  The desert is beautiful, but I am starting to crave seeing some trees. I need a change of scenery.

  I stop briefly to get some gas and then look up a few options on my phone.

  Big Bear, California, shows up as a city in the higher elevation and not too far from here. Apparently, it also has a large lake. I look up some cabins in the area and see that the prices there are a lot more affordable than those by the beach.

  I'm tempted to rent it through Airbnb, but then there’ll be a record of exactly how long I stay there. I want this to be even more private. I'm not going to be there just for one night.

  Luckily, not everybody in Big Bear is very technologically advanced and some vacation rentals just post the owner's or the rental agency's phone number. I avoid the agencies, knowing that they're more likely to check for ID.

  The road to Big Bear is winding and full of loops, but the higher that I go up the mountain, the more pines shoot up and the taller they get.

  At the very top, they are over sixty feet tall with thick, wide trunks the color of rust.

  The air up here is crisp and delicate. It was a warm day, in the seventies, but now the temperature has dropped well below forty.

  My cell phone reception comes back and I load the advertisement for the A-frame house and dial Lisa Bowden's number. After a few rings, she answers. I ask her if the place is available for two weeks and she says that it is.

  “I just got to town,” I say. “Is there any way I could see it right now?”

  She hesitates and then says, “Well, we are just sitting down for dinner now, but why don't you stop by and we can chat a little?”

  The request is little bit odd, but I decide that this is probably my best chance for not giving my ID.

  She gives me the address and I drive over.

  She lives in a modest two-story house surrounded by mansions right on the lake. The driveway is poorly illuminated, but I park a little bit out of the way and tell Tyler to wait for me. He took a long nap and is now feeling a little bit better but is still in a tremendous amount of pain.

  I knock on the door and the woman who answers is small in stature and looks to be in her seventies. She is thin, but toned, not at all frail.

  She has a lot of pep in her voice and she immediately invites me inside. I want to talk to Lisa outside, but she quickly invites me in. I'm tempted to turn around and run away, but I don't have too many other options.

  I want to rent this house from her and I want her to trust me enough to not ask for too many details.

  I look down at my clothes and realize just how dusty and dirty I am. I'm about to say something when I stop myself. Maybe she won't even notice. Why bring it up?

  “So, you said that your name is Samantha?”

  “Yes, Samantha Atwood.” I extend my hand and shake hers.

  She asks me a little bit about myself and I tell her about being a preschool teacher. I don't want to come out and say that I'm a speech therapist, but I work with kids and I know them well and I want to use that in my life. The best lies are those that are closest to the truth, right?

  “So, what brings you here?”

  “I'm just passing through. I had a falling out with my boyfriend and I decided to take some time for myself.”

  “It's okay for you to take off from work?”

  “Yes, I've had a lot of vacation days saved up.”

  “Lucky you,” she says with a nod.

  It doesn’t seem like she is prying. Still, I'm on edge and every single question feels like an interrogation.

  “Where are you from?”

  I'm about to say Pennsylvania, but then I stop myself. No, I need to be from somewhere local, something that would be more plausible for a local trip.

  “Arizona. Flagstaff.”

  I remember seeing that town on the map and its unusual name, but I don't know the first thing about it.

  “Oh, really? I'm from Flagstaff!” Lisa says. “What part?”

  Blood drains away from my face.

  My hands go numb.

  This day has been too long already and now she's about two seconds away from catching me in a lie.

  “I'm sorry, Mrs. Bowden, I’d love to talk to you more, but I've had quite a stressful day and I'm not in the best shape right now. Is there any way that you could show me the cabin?”

  This is my last-ditch effort to change the topic.

  Luckily, it works.

  “Of course! You've had a long drive. We'll have plenty of time to talk in the upcoming days.”

  I don't have to wonder what that means for long.

  She grabs the keys and instead of giving me directions to the cabin, she leads me to the back door and walks me across the backyard to the house next door.

  It's a two level, A-frame house, which looks to be about the same size as hers. There are two bedrooms, one upstairs and one downstairs. There's one bathroom and it’s downstairs.

  She shows me i
nside and the first thing that I see is the enormous two-story window looking past her house and onto the lake.

  “The view is much better from the top,” she says.

  After showing me around the kitchen, which is modest and seems to be straight out of the 60s, she turns around and asks, “What do you think?”

  “It's very nice,” I say.

  That's true.

  The house is nice and the weekly rent is quite affordable. The only problem is that I had no idea that it was right behind her house and so close to the lake. I was hoping for more privacy, some cabin surrounded by pines all by itself in the national forest.

  “You have quite the location here,” I say. “Are the neighbors nice?”

  What I really want to ask is are the neighbors nosy, but I bite my tongue.

  “Yes, I guess, what I've seen of them.”

  “What do you mean?” I ask.

  “Well, I have been living here since the early 60s. We got our house and then we bought this one as a rental right behind us. It’s been quite a nice little life. I used to be a teacher myself. Elementary school, right here in town, but then all of these wealthy people out of Los Angeles moved in, bought tracts of land, and started building their mansions. As you can see, we are completely surrounded by them.”

  I look out the window and nod my head.

  “So, you don't like your neighbors?” I ask.

  “Well, it would be nice to have neighbors. I hardly ever see them. Most of them are never here. These places are just second homes, somewhere to park their money and spend the occasional three-day weekend. Sometimes their kids come up with a group of their friends to go skiing.”

  “I’m sorry about that,” I say to her. Secretly, I let out a sigh of relief.

  This is good. Even though I'm surrounded by houses, at least they are empty. Maybe this will work.

  4

  Tyler

  The pain from the bullet piercing my shoulder is temporary, but the pain from seeing my friend do that to me will haunt me forever.

  Of course, I know what Mac is capable of, but at the same time I thought that I would be an exception.