Familiar Lies by Brian J. Jarrett Page A

table. “Is your husband coming?”
    “Ex-husband.” Liz appeared nervous and apprehensive. “He’s out of town at the moment.”
    “I see.”
    “Your information,” Liz said, getting right to the point, “tell me what you know.” She seemed to nearly come out of her seat with anticipation.
    Max began the story. He told Liz Potter about Josh, his suspicious death and the letter found in his son’s room. He told her about Ruby, how he’d followed Gabe to the house and the DVD he’d found with Amanda’s name scribbled in black marker. At some point during the conversation, the waitress returned with two cups of coffee and the wheat toast.
    When he described the video Liz came apart. He gave her time to recover as she blotted her eyes with cheap Waffle House napkins. He mentioned the scar he’d seen and where it had been on her body. He needed her to believe him, he needed her to know this wasn’t some crackpot story made up by a lonely father in an attempt to get attention.
    After Liz had regained some of her composure she mentioned the scar. “She had her appendix out when she was eleven. She was always self-conscious about the scar.” She paused, thinking. “Where is the DVD now?”
    Max told her the truth. “I’d give it to you if I had it,” he added, but it felt hollow.
    “Why didn’t you take it to the police?” Liz asked. “You had those assholes, dead to rights.”
    Max shrugged. “I don’t know. I guess I was afraid they’d arrest me.”
    “Why would they do that?”
    “A middle-aged divorced man in possession of a video like that? Cops are only interested in getting arrests, no matter how they come.”
    “That’s not true.”
    “Maybe not, but there’s nothing I can do about it now. It’s gone, my house is trashed and I’m living out of a hotel room because I’m afraid that someone might try to kill me. Maybe cut me some slack.”
    Liz sighed. “I’m sorry.”
    “It’s okay. This whole thing—”
    “It’s a clusterfuck.”
    Max chuckled. Liz smiled in return. None of this was funny, not in the least, but the laughter came from a place of stress and exhaustion and was much-needed. He’d been through so much and he was sure Liz had been through even more.
    Liz leaned back in the booth and sipped her coffee. “This is a lot to take in.”
    “I understand.”
    “I was going to tell you that you don’t understand. I say that all the time to people because they can’t understand what it’s like to lose your only child.” She looked at him closely. “But you can, can’t you?”
    Max looked her in the eye for a few uncomfortable seconds. “Did you and your husband divorce after Amanda disappeared?”
    “Six years before. We made it twelve years, but the last few years of the marriage were tough. We grew apart. You?”
    “I guess Katie and I grew apart too. We just didn’t realize it until after Josh died.” He paused. “Or maybe I just didn’t notice.”
    “We lost Amanda years before she actually disappeared. She was moody, distant. We thought it was a phase. Normal teenage stuff, you know?”
    Max said he did.
    “I had all the best intentions. I ask myself all the time what happened. What went wrong. I never get an answer I’m satisfied with.” Several more uncomfortable seconds passed as Liz stared into her coffee. Max took a bite of the toast and chewed absentmindedly as their waitress returned and refreshed the coffee.
    “What happens now?” Liz asked.
    “I guess that’s up to you. You know what I know. You can go to the police if you want, to that detective who’s working Amanda’s case.”
    “Detective Cook.”
    “Yeah. I’ll agree to talk to him. I owe you that much for losing the video.”
    “It’s not your fault. You didn’t know they’d come for it.”
    “I should have. I underestimated these people.”
    “What are you going to do now? You can’t live in a hotel forever.”
    “I have some more leads to follow up on. I want something