Page 97 of The Five Year Lie

When he figured out that the judge who signed the warrant was fake, his first reaction was awe. So simple. So smart. And so revolting.

Unfortunately, there’s a further twist—every single warrant request is signed by a Captain Whitman. Who also does not exist.

Theballson these guys.

He still doesn’t know who’s at fault, though. Someone smart enough to exploit the system.

Someone who knows a lot about both Chime Co.andlaw enforcement. Edward, probably. He has a God complex. And arrogant people make stupid decisions. Just ask any soldier or sailor who’s had the misfortune of serving under an officer like that.

But Edward doesn’t have the programming chops to create LiveMatch by himself. So there must be someone else, too.

Like Ray. But they’d never conspire together. They’d kill each other first.

He keeps digging. Hell, he barely sleeps anymore. Instead, hesits here on his secondhand sofa, pawing through his notes. Looking for the trail of bread crumbs.

He yawns so hard that his jaw cracks. Maybe sleep will finally come now that he’s exhausted himself. He slides the notebook between the futon mattress and the frame. Then he closes the browser on his computer.

His email inbox comes into view. Two a.m. is the wrong time to check emails, but his eye snags on the subject line of the most recent message.ID Verification Request.

Everything goes still inside him as he reads those words a second time. It’s the message he’s been dreading since his first day in the office.

He opens the email.

Dear Mr. Miller,

Our payroll service has identified a discrepancy in your employment record. We’ve entered 11/1/88 as your date of birth. But a routine reconciliation has returned a DOB of 11/1/48 from the SSA.

Please bring your Social Security card into work on Monday so that we can copy it and send it back to the payroll company as proof of your DOB. Your next paycheck will unfortunately be held up until we can straighten this out.

Thank you very much,

Shiela Banks

Assistant Manager of Human Resources

He closes the lid of his laptop. As if that will make the message disappear. He knows better, though.

It’s over. His time here is nearly up.

His pulse thumps in his ears as he leans down and plucks his crutches off the floor. He rises to cross the darkened room to the bedroom doorway.

There’s just enough moonlight filtering in through the windows to illuminate Ariel’s sleeping face. Her brow is furrowed, as if sleeping requires great concentration.

And maybe it does. She hasn’t shared her nightmares with him, as he hasn’t shared his own.

He regrets everything they haven’t done yet.

Easing himself down on his side of the bed, he lowers the crutches to the floor without making a sound. Then he stretches out beside her. He isn’t sleepy at all now. Not when there’s still time to gaze at her in the darkness.

After a moment, though, gazing is not enough. He palms her bare shoulder and runs a hand down her arm. He needs to memorize the shape of her body curled under the sheet, and the softness of her moonlit skin.

She stirs, rolling toward him. And it’s all the invitation he needs to pull her against his chest.

“Are you okay?” she asks groggily.

He doesn’t want to lie again. So he dodges the question by kissing her neck instead. And then her shoulder. And then her breast.

Her fingers wake up and begin to weave through his hair. He closes his eyes and soaks it in. He’ll miss this so much that it already hurts. Even as he kisses his way up her body to claim her mouth, he keeps his eyes slammed shut. If he looks at her, she’ll ask again if something is wrong.