Page 107 of The Lie Maker

Good question. I remembered the name posted outside the trailer.

“Mr.Barker,” I said. “Would that... be you?”

“I live next door,” he said. “Saw you snooping around. Better explain yourself real quick, pal.”

There were a few things I wanted explained, too. Like, what the hell was the guy who ran me off the road doing living next door to my father, assuming that this trailer I was standing in was my father’s? What were the odds of that?

“I think my father lives here,” I said. “I’ve been trying to get in touch with him.”

Something changed in the man’s face. “Your father?”

I nodded.

He eyed me more carefully, like maybe he, too, was struggling to remember where he might have encountered me.

“Tell me,” he said.

“Tell you what?”

“Where you think we met?”

“I cut you off,” I said. “Didn’t mean to. I didn’t see you. You got pissed and chased me, cut me off. Got out of your pickup. You were coming at me.”

The gun in his hand lowered ever so slightly. “Fuck me.”

“And then, someone came along at the right time... and stopped you.”

“I’ll be a goddamn son of a bitch,” he said, his mouth bordering on a grin. “It is you. Goddamn, I could have killed you just now. Cliff would have been so pissed with me if I’d done that.”

“Cliff,” I said. It was barely more than a whisper.

“Should be back soon. He likes to take a walk around this time of—”

We heard a door open and close.

“Hello?” someone, who no doubt had noticed that lights had been turned on in parts of the trailer, called out. “What’s going on?”

This time, it was my father’s voice I recognized.

“Hey, Cliff,” my road rage friend said. “Around the corner. You’ve got a visitor.”

I heard footsteps, and then Dad appeared alongside the other man. He eyed me, jaw ever so slightly dropped.

“Jesus,” he said. Dad brushed past the other man, met me halfway down the hall, and threw his arms around me. “How the hell did you find me? And what the hell are you doing here?”

“I was going to ask you the same thing,” I said.

He stared at me, shaking his head, undoubtedly trying to figure out how I’d tracked him down.

“The license plate,” I said. “Someone suggested I finally check whether it might actually be legit. And it wasn’t, but it was close.”

Dad shook his head, chiding himself. “I got sloppy. You traced it to Frank. He’s such a nice guy. I hated to put him to the trouble of getting a new plate, so I only borrowed it. Well, good on ya, I suppose. See you’ve met Gord here. Gord, this is my son, Jack.”

“Hey, Jack,” Gord said. “We figured out where we know each other from.”

“Oh,” Dad said. He smiled sourly as he looked at me. “You probably have some questions.”

“A couple,” I said.