Never Lie

by Freida McFadden

Liars fidget. The tone of their voice or speech patterns changes. Liars offer too much information, babbling on with excessive detail to convince themselves or others of what they are saying.

When he smiled at me, I was a goner. We spent the next six hours together, sharing coffee, then later that same evening, he took me out to dinner. That night, I broke up with my boyfriend of over a year, explaining apologetically that I had met the man I was going to marry.

It’s so amazing sharing my life with him. Except for the one big secret he doesn’t know about yet.

I have never felt this way before. Not about any of the dozens of empty houses we have toured over the last couple of months. I have never had a feeling this strong. Something terrible has happened in this house.

A gigantic portrait of a woman hanging over the mantel. He is staring up at it, a strangely dark look on his face. “Hey,” I say. “What’s wrong?” His pale eyelashes flutter. He seems surprised that I’m suddenly standing next to him, as if he had forgotten I was here. “Oh. Uh, nothing. I just… Who do you think that is?”

Hmmm….

“Adrienne Hale,” he reads off the back cover. “Isn’t she that shrink who got murdered?”

the whole time, I can’t shake the horrible feeling that those green eyes in the portrait over the mantel are watching me.

Within my house, I have a MicroCell tower and Wi-Fi. But in anticipation of Paige’s visit, I shut them both off. While she is here, I want her full attention. I would never pay more attention to my phone than to a patient, and I don’t enjoy competing for Paige’s attention.

Up to seventy percent of females who have been murdered were killed by an intimate partner. So in actuality, her suggestion to “get a boyfriend” is not only highly judgmental and insulting but would only increase my risk of meeting with a violent end. But I will not debate this woman.

I just hope he feels the same way about me after he finds out about my revelation. I feel ill every time I think about it. But I can’t keep it from him much longer.

The worst part is when we get to the landing for the second floor. Because it’s obvious that the entire floor is completely dark. “We saw a light on up here, right?”

Human beings don’t deal well with rejection. Back when our ancestors were hunters and gatherers, being ostracized from a tribe was akin to a death sentence. For that reason, rejection is experienced by human beings as being incredibly painful. Studies using functional MRI have shown the same areas of the brain become activated both during rejection and during real physical pain.

“You are the best husband ever.” Ethan’s face lights up. He drops the plates on the kitchen counter and reaches for me. It’s awkward since we both have our coats on, but I love how hot his breath is when he kisses me. “It’s easy to be the best husband ever when I have the best wife ever.”

I pull harder on the book, but only the top of it comes free. The bottom seems wedged in place. And when I move the top of the book, I hear a loud click. And the bookcase shifts slightly. What the…?

I blink a few times, unable to believe what I’m seeing. It’s a secret room.

I can’t drink this. Perhaps a sip or two, but not this entire huge glass of wine or anything close to that. And I can’t tell Ethan why because he doesn’t know that I’m pregnant. That’s right. I’m knocked up.

He follows my gaze to the portrait hanging on the wall. His eyes darken the way they did when he first saw it. I smile sheepishly. “Sorry, it’s just giving me the creeps.” “Yeah, I hate it too.” A muscle twitches in his jaw.

He has to be a patient or the supposed boyfriend

Maybe I’m reluctant to give him some surprising and possibly upsetting news when we’re stuck in an isolated house, just the two of us, where nobody can hear us and there’s no way to leave.

Ethan won’t be thrilled about my news, and yes, he has a temper. But he would never hurt me. I know that for a fact.

I love this part, you know? Where I get to sit on your couch.” “Yes. Listen…” “It’s a nice one too. Real leather. You must make the big bucks, Doc. You probably don’t even need me buying you bottles of wine! And you don’t even take insurance.”

Would the police have looked for EJ after Dr. Hale disappeared? Maybe not. It’s not clear whether she kept a list of her patients. And the newspapers didn’t list other suspects besides her boyfriend. Also, there was something creepy about his voice. I can’t put my finger on it. Something creepy and also familiar. It hits me now that he mentioned in the beginning of the tape that he had brought her a bottle of wine. A bottle of cabernet sauvignon from South Africa. When Ethan brought out the wine, he mentioned it was from South Africa.

The painting of Dr. Adrienne Hale. The one that Ethan took down and placed facing away from us. It’s back on the wall. And Dr. Hale’s green eyes are boring into me.

Uh oh

I pass by the living room and discover he’s taken the portrait down again. I’m obscenely grateful that he took it down again so I won’t have Dr. Hale staring at me. We just have to remember to put it back before we leave.

Tell him. Just tell him, you wuss. What’s he going to do—fly into a furious rage, murder you, and bury your body in the snow?

“Also, thank you for taking the portrait down again. It was really freaking me out.” “Again?” “Right.” I watch as he scrapes the partially cooked egg off the frying pan. “I assume you took it down again this morning.” Ethan looks at me like I’ve lost my mind. “No, I took it down last night. Remember? We were sitting together on the couch and it was freaking you out, so I took it down.” “No.” My good mood is evaporating. “You said that you put it back up last night. Like, when you went down for water?” “I never put it back up. Why would I do that?”

“I don’t understand what you’re saying, Tricia. You think somebody came into the living room and put the painting back up? Then later in the night, they took it back down? That’s what you think?” Well, when he says it like that… “I know it sounds crazy.” “A bit.” “But I know what I saw.”

Of course, I could borrow a pair of Dr. Hale’s boots. We do seem to be the same size…

Hi, Doc. I have a little video I took of you from a parking lot in the Bronx. I thought you might enjoy watching it! The message came from EJ. I didn’t delete his number from my phone after I terminated him as a patient. I wish I had, but it doesn’t matter. I have a feeling he would have found a way to get me this message.

Why are you just standing there, Doc? Open the door for me.

yank open the door, and there he is. Wearing a Michael Kors jacket, no doubt purchased with his wealthy parents’ money. His sun-streaked blond hair is slightly disheveled, and he has a smirk on his lips. EJ is handsome—that is undeniable, although he’s on the shorter side, which gives him a bit of a Napoleon complex. During the time I have been treating him, he has been in relationships of varying length—anywhere from one night to six months—with countless women. The one-night stands got off easy. I pity any woman whose path crossed with this man.

“You got such a nice place here, Doc,” EJ comments like he’s seeing it for the first time. “Nice furniture too.

“No, you already offered that, and it’s not what I want. You and I were making great progress. You’re the best. I want you.”

“And my mother is a terrible driver. One of these days, she’ll probably be driving with my father in the car, and she’ll just drive right into a Mack truck and they’ll both be killed.”

“You think your mother would drive into a truck? She’s that poor of a driver?” “Well, maybe she wouldn’t. Maybe the brakes would fail.” “I see…” “What’s wrong, Doc? You look pale.” “You’re telling me you would tamper with your parents’ brakes…” “No! Hey, come on. I wouldn’t do that, Doc. I love my parents, even if they’re a pain in the ass. I’m just saying. It could happen. Brakes fail.” “I… I’m not sure what to say.”

“I simply don’t think these sessions are productive. As I said, I would be happy to refer you to one of my excellent colleagues. I would cover the cost of the sessions.” “No. We’re not going to do that.” “Why not?” “Because I want you.”

why my friends don’t like him. Whenever we talk about him, they always say, this or that is a red flag. But Ethan is a genuinely good guy. What does it matter that he hasn’t had many girlfriends before me? And why should the fact that he lost his parents and doesn’t have much family be a reason I should avoid him? My mother would say they’re jealous. After all, I have a gorgeous, wealthy husband, who just wants me all to himself.

Will the contents of these tapes reveal the secret of what really happened to Dr. Adrienne Hale? I can’t leave this house without finding out.

“She’s interesting and complex and caring and intelligent. But she’s also…” “What?” “She’s beautiful.” “You think so, do you?” “I do. I really do.” “I see. So what you’re saying is that you have romantic intentions towards this woman?” “Uh…” “Are you aware that your face is bright red right now?” “Ha ha, very amusing. Okay, I… look, what do you want me to say? Yes. Yes, I like her.”

I mean, I’ve been at her house for two hours, then she gets me on her sofa and does this crazy pretend interview, asking me all these questions. And the whole time, I keep thinking, what if I just got up off the sofa and kissed her? How would she react?” “Why don’t you do it then?” “What if she doesn’t want me to? What if she slaps me?” “I don’t think she will.” “No?” “You never know unless you try.”

I never expected to end up in bed with Luke Strauss. Dinner? Maybe. A few drinks? Possibly. But not this. It came as a complete surprise. But not an unpleasant one. Just the opposite. I had thought of myself as the sort of person who could go indefinitely without physical affection, but the second Luke kissed me after I goaded him into it, I realized I was kidding myself. I wanted this. I wanted it so badly that even when he respectfully tried to slow things down, I wouldn’t let him. Whatever you want, Adrienne.

“You have to let me take you out to dinner.” “I’m the one who owes you dinner, remember?” “Except no way. I want to take you out to dinner.”

“I’ll stay here all night if I have to, Adrienne.” Fine. If he wants it that badly, I will not argue. Despite my distaste at the prospect of falling into traditional gender roles, I’m a little flattered. “All right then. You may take me out to dinner.”

Maybe I can get Ethan to turn the heat up a bit. He never showed me exactly how he figured out how to turn it on in the first place. I don’t even know where the heating system is. It could be practically anywhere in this giant house. I’m impressed he figured it out, having never been here before.

It’s a sleeping bag. There’s nothing that disturbing about finding a sleeping bag in somebody’s attic. On the contrary, it’s what you might expect to find. But the disturbing part is that everything in this attic is covered in a layer of dust. But the sleeping bag isn’t. The sleeping bag is clean. Recently laundered. There’s also a pillow stuck back there, which seems to be in the same condition. There’s a pillowcase on it, and it’s all clean.

Somebody was using the sleeping bag very recently.

The truth is, I’m growing to enjoy sharing a bed with him. On the nights he’s at his own apartment, I look at the empty spot on what has now become his side of the bed (the left), and I feel an ache in my chest.

“It’s a new recipe. You’re going to love it.” “I’m sure I will. I love everything you make.” And I love you.

“It’s okay.” He puts down the spoon in his hand and pulls me closer to him so he can kiss me. One of those lingering kisses that makes my whole body tingle. He still gets to me, even after four months. “I know you’re crazy. It’s one of the things I love about you.” He’s doing it too. Flirting with the word “love.” I love your sauce. I love that you’re crazy. He’s going to say it to me—I can see it all over his face. It’s just a matter of time.

Of course, EJ would know about Luke. I could never keep any relationship of mine a secret from him. Usually though, when he shows up late at night, he picks nights when Luke isn’t here. He’s becoming bolder.

“I said I don’t remember, Tricia.” I back away from the counter. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you.” He looks up at me, his crystal blue eyes flashing. “Why do you always have to be so damn curious about everything? Why do you have to know everything about everyone?” “I just…” I wring my hands together. “I don’t have to know everything about everyone. I just want to know about you. Because you’re my husband, and I love you.”