Girl of Lies by Charles Sheehan-Miles Read Free Book Online Page A

forehead, briefly massaging the bridge of his nose. “Andrea, I’m here to help you.”
    “Then sign whatever papers it is you need to sign, and let me go. I didn’t commit the crime here. I didn’t kidnap anyone. I didn’t hurt anyone. I didn’t threaten to rape anyone. I didn’t assault anyone. All I did was fly to help my sister. So there is absolutely no reason for me to be here anymore. If you wish to have me arrested, call the police. Otherwise, I’m leaving.”
    Andrea stood.
    “Andrea, please. I’m very concerned about trauma.”
    She stared at him for a solid thirty seconds. Then she blinked her eyes, and said, “You should talk to your therapist about that.”
    She ostentatiously stepped around him and opened the door.
    The first thing she saw was two Maryland state troopers blocking the door. They wore crisply pressed khaki shirts and matching hats, and both of them had the look of too many cases of beer in between lifting weights.
    Beyond them, to the right, stood a large man grey suit that looked as if it had been used for a pillow. A leather folder, folded outward, displayed a badge at his pocket. She looked close enough to see he was from the Diplomatic Security Service.
    To the left stood two of her sisters.
    Carrie Thompson-Sherman might have been an older twin to Andrea. Dark brown hair, cut almost savagely short, framed a pert face with blue green eyes. Like Andrea, she was more than six feet tall, with narrow features, high cheekbones and unusually pale skin. Andrea did the math in her head… Carrie was born in 1985, so she must be 29 now. She didn’t look close to thirty, but she didn’t have the fresh look of eighteen anymore either. Worry and strain had given her new lines around her eyes and in the center of her forehead.
    Next to her… and considerably shorter than either of them… was their pixie-like sister Sarah. She was a few inches over five feet, and since Andrea saw her last, Sarah’s leg had healed into a permanent and startling   network of scars running up her calf to her thigh. The scarring looked like shoelaces. Sarah had dark hair, dyed black with white streaks, and strikingly pale blue eyes and a nose ring that matched her eyes perfectly. She was still the same girl Andrea had last scene in a hospital bed in August, but something inside of her had changed. Her eyes were cold and distant, as if she’d seen too much.
    Andrea pushed her way past the police and walked to her sisters, silently pulling them both into an embrace.
    “Oh my God, Andrea,” Carrie whispered, her tone fierce. Sarah, almost comically, put her arms around both of them, like a child around both parents.
    “Are you okay?” Sarah asked.
    “Yeah,” Andrea replied. “I’m all right. Just… can we get out of here?”
    “Miss Thompson.” The voice was deep, unpleasant.
    Andrea looked up. It was the large man in suit that desperately needed dry-cleaning. She sighed.
    “I’m Bear Wyden. Diplomatic Security Service. Before you go, I need a few minutes of your time.”
    For just a second, Andrea wanted to cry. She just wanted to get out of this hospital, get away from all these people, and curl up under a blanket.
    Carrie saw her reaction and said, “Mr. Wyden, is this necessary right now? I think she’s exhausted.”
    “It is, unfortunately,” he said. “At this point we don’t know who was behind the kidnapping, so there are significant concerns about your security.”
    Andrea said, “The kidnappers are dead.” But then she thought back to her earlier conclusion that the kidnappers were hired. She swayed a little on her feet. It was long past midnight at home, and she’d had little sleep the night before.
    Wyden said, “We’ll make this quick.”
    “Fine.”
    He led the way down the hall. “In here, please, the hospital’s provided a meeting room.”
    “We’re staying with our sister,” Carrie said.
    “No problem.” He held the door open and waved them forward. Then he said,