Lie to Me Read Online Free PDF Page B

Dill’s—with Alex Wolfe. I have to shake that off, too.
    “You’re soaking wet!” Maria says to me, helping me take off my leather jacket. “What happened to your umbrella?”
    “It broke,” I lie. Maria makes a clucking noise, looking up and down at my wet jeans, soaked through shoes, wet hair. She hasn’t had enough people to mother since her kids moved away. I think maybe that’s why she takes such good care of Dill and me, always volunteering to watch my brother, always bringing over leftovers, coming over to make cookies when she knows I’m working late. I don’t need the help as much anymore, but I’d be lying if I didn’t say Maria had saved us in the beginning, when I had no idea what I was doing.
    People in this neighborhood look out for each other. It’s what makes it worth saving. I learned that the day my parents died.
    “He say anything?” I ask her.
    “No, no,” she says, shaking her head. Maria wrings her hands, like she always does when she doesn’t have something to do or someone to take care of, and I know she’s anxious.
    “Ok, I’ll talk to him,” I say, slipping my shoes off, at least, so I won’t squelch all over the floor.
    “I’ll make cookies with Dill,” she says. I nod, and she’s relieved. You would think it was her house, she’s so nervous.
    I walk into the living room in my bare feet and wet clothes, running my hand through my hair, trying to be as presentable as possible. Dill and Mr. Wolfe look up at the same time, both of them hunched over the computer by the desk, the one piece of high tech gadgetry we have in the house. Dill laughs when he sees me, and Mr. Wolfe smiles.
    “You look like the creature from the black lagoon,” Dill says.
    “Har, har,” I say, and look down to see that I am dripping on the floor.
    “Harlow, it’s good to see you,” Mr. Wolfe says. “I just came by to talk. Why don’t you go change, and—”
    “No,” I say, cutting him off. “Dill, go help Maria with the cookies. Mr. Wolfe and I have to talk.”
    There’s an awkward silence, even from Dill. Mr. Wolfe is not a man who you cut off in conversation, or whom you contradict lightly. He has a definite presence. He stands up and I can see the full height of the man, tall and broad with an athlete’s build and a big shock of silver hair. And gray eyes. Cold gray eyes. He seems to fill the room.
    And he looks right at me.
    I shiver. The truth is I don’t want to go change into warm, dry clothes, because then it will be like Mr. Wolfe is here to stay a while. Like he won’t leave until he’s convinced me to do what he wants if I give him even the slightest opening.
    The only other person I’ve ever met who’s that persistent just chased me across a bridge.
    “Dill, go help Maria,” I repeat.
    I will say this for my bratty, brainiac little brother: The little man knows when things get serious, and he lets me do my thing. Probably comes from those years of being hyper aware around bitchy Aunt Jill, after our parents died and Jill had temporary custody, years I wish I could take back. Dill clears out without further protest, letting Maria fuss over him the way she does, and gives me one worried little look as he passes by.
    That’s it. That’s the look that breaks my heart and hardens it all at the same time. I never want Dill to have to worry like this, ever again.
    But what really messes with my head is the way that Alex Wolfe, Marcus’s godfather, chucks my little brother on the side of the head as he walks past. Affectionately. Familiarly. In a fatherly way.
    And Dill leans into it, smiling.
    And I think about who else Alex Wolfe has been a father to.
     
    ***
     
    I should be clear. Watching Alex Wolfe behave that way with Dill messes with me on many levels, but the thing that stands out the most is the way it makes me think about Marcus. And I guess it’s possible that just about anything would make me think about Marcus right now, but most things probably