Page 113 of The Five Year Lie

“Are you going to watch a movie?” he demands, because FOMO is real.

“Nope. Just grown-up talk, and then I’ll brush my teeth and come to bed.”

“Okay,” he says grudgingly. “Am I going to school tomorrow?”

“Of course. It’s picnic day.” And I will show up with ten watermelons if it kills me. “Good night, my baby.”

“I’m not a baby.”

“But you’remybaby.”

He grins.

Out in the living room, Larri is pouring out a pot of chamomile tea. I drape myself on the beanbag chair.

“What can we do for you?” Larri asks.

“You’ve already done it,” I insist. “But I need to talk to the detective before I collapse into a heap of exhaustion.” I glance at my phone. The last text from the detective was a half hour ago. He said he’d stop by soon.

“I can’t believe you invited the cops to my house,” Tara groans from the sofa.

“She didn’t do it to trigger you, sweetums,” Larri says.

Although I do feel like an ass for forgetting that Tara is afraid of cops.

Officer Barski knocks on the door not five minutes later, and I jump up and greet him on the porch. “We have to stop meeting like this,” I say as I slip outside.

He chuckles in response.

“Can we talk out here? My friend would prefer it.”

“Of course.” He steps aside and takes a seat on one of the rocking chairs on the rickety front porch. “Nobody likes law enforcement anymore. And yet we’re the first people to be called when anyone has a problem.”

He offers this with an easy smile, though. And I’m really glad I don’t have his job. “Did you find anything significant at my apartment?”

“We took some fingerprints, but they might turn out to be yours. Can you come down to the station tomorrow and supply your prints?”

“Later in the day?” I hedge. “I have to take my son to his preschool picnic.”

“Of course.” He smiles again. “Whenever you’re ready.”

I wonder how different this experience would be if Iweren’tthe heir to a tech CEO who plays golf with the chief of police. “What else do you need from me?”

“Just a couple more questions.” He flips through a small notebook. “It looks like your lock was picked. But do you know why anyone would want to break into your apartment?”

“No,” I say immediately.

“Any guys bothering you lately? Do you have any exes who might not have gotten the message? Or maybe your child’s father is upset with you?”

“My child’s father is dead. And I haven’t had a boyfriend for a good five years. I can’t even remember how tospellboyfriend. That is not what’s happening here.”

His grin grows wider. “Okay. Good to know. Any other enemies? Trouble at work?”

“Nope.” I shake my head. If I told him that my stolen laptop held a bunch of warrants from a fake cop and a fake judge in Lowden, Maine, it would probably pique his interest. But then what?

He’s probably a good cop. I bet most of them are. It would probably never occur to him to use police technology to cyber-stalk teenage girls.

But bad apples are real. Some guys used my family’s technology for terrible things. I have no way of knowing who those guys are.