Джеймс Паттерсон - Liar Liar

His father had crossed the valley to the adjacent stretch of land where the owners had a well and a barn for horses. From where they stood, Regan and his mother could see the sun gleaming on the animals’ coats as they lingered in the clearing. A thick rope was tied around the tree nearest the well, disappearing into the blackness of the stone structure.

‘What’s he doing down there?’ Regan had asked.

‘The owners think the well might be leaking. They’ve asked Daddy to take a look,’ she had said, curling a finger in the hair at the back of his head. ‘Regan, I want to talk to you about something. I’ve got some special news to tell you. I think it’s going to make you very happy.’

She explained about the baby, her hand now withdrawn from his hair and unconsciously smoothing the gentle curve of her belly. Regan watched the horses and listened.

‘Having a little brother or sister is going to be great, isn’t it?’ She smiled, rubbing his shoulder encouragingly when he didn’t answer. ‘Isn’t it, love?’

‘Let’s go see Daddy,’ he said, and started walking down the incline.

Heather followed her son down the hill, not knowing she was heading towards the place where she would die.

Chapter

101

THEY ARRIVED AT the well, Regan and his mother and the baby inside her that was not only good but great. Regan stood on his father’s toolbox and leaned over the edge of the well and looked down. Twenty metres below him he could see the top of Ron Banks’s head as he stacked heavy stones on one side of the empty well.

‘Hello, Daddy!’ Regan called down, and his father looked up, squinting in the light, a gloved hand held against the sun.

‘We’ve come to see how you’re doing down there.’ Heather leaned over the edge of the well too and cast a shadow on her husband. ‘Can you see the trouble?’

‘I think so,’ Ron said, brushing off his muddy gloves. He explained to Heather about the crack in the concrete casing, the clay at the bottom of the well. Regan watched his mother leaning over the stone ledge, her skirt fluttering gently in the wind.

She had only a moment to scream when he grabbed her leg and lifted it. No time to twist or clutch at the wall under her hands. Regan was so fast, so perfect in his aim, that he counterbalanced her before she could steady herself and pitched her into the well.

There was a thump, the sound of screams. Regan jumped back onto the toolbox and looked down into the well, where his parents were collapsed together in the mud. His mother’s head and mouth were bleeding. It was funny, the two of them writhing together, trying to untangle themselves. A pair of pigs in mud. His father was groaning, gasping, trying to grip the wall to pull himself up.

Regan laughed down at them.

‘Are you OK? Are you OK? How did you fall?’

‘I didn’t fall! He … he …’

She couldn’t say it. There was blood pouring down her face from a deep gash in her forehead. The two of them looked up at the grinning boy, dumbfounded.

Regan wondered if the great baby was inside her looking up at him too.

‘Re– Regan?’ Heather stammered. ‘Honey, why did you –’ He stepped down from the toolbox and flipped open the lid. He could hear their voices still, bouncing off the stone walls of the deep well.

‘Try to stay still. You’ve hurt your head badly.’

‘Why would he … Why would he …?’

‘Jesus, I think my arm is broken.’

Regan took the box cutter from the top shelf of the toolbox and pushed the blade out with a series of clicks. He went to the rope hanging over the side of the well.

‘Heather, you might have to try to climb up. I can’t use my arm. Honey? Honey, are you OK?’

Regan set the blade to the rope and started sawing.

‘What’s that sound?’ Heather’s voice was thin and high. ‘Ron? What’s that sound? ’

Chapter

102

REGAN SAT WHERE he had been sitting when I arrived, like a man lounging with a beer in his hand rather than a gun. He was watching me as his tale unfolded, those empty eyes examining my reaction.

‘I went back a lot,’ Regan said. ‘I kept checking on them, seeing what they were up to. They had all these plans to get out, to scream, to signal for help. They would try to talk me into helping them. Promise me the whole world. And then they’d be screaming up at me viciously, promising punishments. I’d never experienced such awesome power before.’

He looked at his hands spread open before him, as though he were holding the power itself.

‘The sound of the begging and pleading and bargaining. It was addictive.’

I said nothing. There were no words. I braced my body against the beam and listened.

‘It couldn’t last forever, of course. I got bored of the games and left them for a day. When I went back they were begging for water. My father went first,’ Regan said. ‘A combination of things, probably. Septic shock from the broken arm. Dehydration. Exhaustion. It was an unusually hot summer. On the third morning I went to check on them and he was dead. She tried to climb out a few times, I think, but every time she fell back in it took a lot of the strength out of her. It was the seventh or maybe the eighth day, I went back and she was lying there making strange noises. So I got a few big rocks from the forest and came back and just kept dropping them in until I got her.’

I breathed evenly, trying to control the sickness that had been rising in me while he told his story.

‘People started calling the house,’ Regan said. ‘I didn’t answer. The day before the owners were due to come back, I found a packet of matches and lit a curtain on fire. Bored again, I guess.’ He smirked. ‘That brought an end to it all.’

‘You’re evil,’ I said. ‘Your file wasn’t sealed because of what your parents did to you. It was because of what you did to them . You’re just … You’re just …’

Regan looked at me. ‘I’m bad,’ he said. He put his gun on the pallet beside him and came towards me. ‘I was born bad. My parents were great people. They never did anything to me to make me behave the way I did. It was just in my nature.’

I shook my head.

‘She kept asking me while she was in the hole,’ Regan said. ‘She kept saying, “Don’t you love me?” and I kept saying no. I was just telling the truth. That’s what this is all about, Harry. Bringing you here, showing you who I really am. Throughout my life, I’ve been taught to try to hide that badness. Layer upon layer, covering myself up. They tried to help me in the system. Cover up the badness with friends, with activities, with pretend families.’

He tried to touch the side of my face, but I twisted away from him. The movement sent a spark of rage through his features, just a flash that was gone before I could really be sure it was there. His big hand took my jaw again and pinned my head against the beam.

‘I’ve stripped layer upon layer away from you,’ he said. ‘Just like I was doing with Sam. I took away your silly ideas about being a good cop, a good kid, a good friend. I’m showing you the truth here. Giving you a gift. You probably think there’s going to be a good little Harry inside there, when I finally get done with you.’

He took hold of the zipper tab on the front of my jacket and started pulling it down.

‘But you’re bad, Harry,’ he said. ‘You’re just like me.’

‘What are you doing?’ I flattened against the beam, tried to twist away from his hands.

‘What’s the last thing I could take away from you, Harry?’

He ripped the zipper down.

Chapter

103

I STOOD SHIVERING as Regan took a knife from the back pocket of his jeans, shoved my jacket open and cut my shirt right up the middle, stripping the cloth off in a furious tug. He returned the knife to his pocket and leaned in, grabbing my breast hard. I needed to let him forget himself. To sink deep into his fantasy, the one he’d been playing and replaying in his head since my brother’s death. The one in which he took the very last layer of me, the only thing protecting my soul, the worst thing he could possibly do to me.