“And as for your kidnapping comment—I didn’t kidnap you, just held you to an arrangement we had.”
She huffs, jumping over a fallen tree trunk. “One we made when we were five. I don’t think that counts. This is kidnapping, and as soon as I get back to the mainland, I’ll make sure you are punished for everything you do to me.”
I look at her with a dark expression. “I didn’t think you were patient enough to wait to punish me until we get back.”
“You’re right, I should punish you sooner.”
“It’s getting dark; we should find a spot to sleep for the night.”
Liesel wipes the sweat from her brow, and I know she’s relieved to not have to walk any further tonight.
We are maybe twenty minutes or less from the house with air conditioning, a nice bed, a shower—all the things Liesel craves.
But I’m the cruel bastard who is going to make her sleep in the dirt, in the heat, with mosquitos swarming.
“Start collecting firewood, I’ll work on the fire,” she says.
I like it when she’s bossy, but it doesn’t mean I’m going to let her be in control. “Do you remember how to start a fire? I’m guessing you haven’t been camping since we were kids?”
“I can start a fire—just get the wood.”
I hold back a smile as I collect wood and underbrush to start a fire. As warm as it is now, the first rule of camping under the stars is having a fire. Nights can get cold, and it will keep any wild animals from coming too close.
I pull out another water bottle to drink and sit on a fallen tree as I watch Liesel struggle with the fire. She tries over and over again, getting more and more frustrated.
She’s covered in dirt, sweat, and mosquito bites. Finally, she falls back to the ground, exhausted.
“You win, again.”
I stand and flick a lighter into the woodpile. It starts up immediately.
“That’s cheating,” she looks at the fire, still lying on her back, her breasts pushed up in her bra, revealing more of her stomach.
I could stare at her all night. She’s beautiful even though she’s covered in mud and dirt. Her body calls to me—begging me to show her how to truly fuck. That little show she put on for me with her boyfriend wasn’t fucking. She doesn’t know the meaning of the word.
I could show her.
My mind spins with thoughts of how I could take her here on the dirt, against the tree, or in the ocean.
“Are you okay? You look like you’re about to go murder an innocent rabbit for our food,” she says.
I reach into my backpack, pull out two Snickers bars. I toss her one and keep the other for myself.
“I won’t be hunting for rabbits tonight. I’d rather hunt for something else.”
She’s halfway opening the wrapper, when my words catch her by surprise. She freezes and looks at me, searching for answers behind my words. I’m not going to make this easy for her.
I had to kidnap her. And I’ll have to go much further to get the info I need from her.
“You have no need to hunt me, you already got me. Or do you think I’ll run off in the night?”
I take a bite of my bar. “You can run, but we both know no matter where you go on this island, I’ll find you. You can’t hide from me. And if I don’t find you, dehydration or exhaustion will.”
She continues to lie on her back as she nibbles on the corner of her bar, savoring every bite. She doesn’t know I have a dozen more in my backpack. She thinks this might be her only meal I give her.
Torturing her by withholding food or water isn’t really the best method to get her to talk to me. No, what I have planned is more sinister and won’t require me to watch her wither away into bones.
I like her curves. I want her curves. I’m a selfish asshole in that way. I won’t mark her body in any permanent way. I can’t say the same about her soul.
I wait until she’s finished with her bar before I speak again.
And wait.
And wait.
And wait.
I’m not a patient man, but I’m becoming one with her. The more patient I am, the more I mess with her head, the higher the chance she will start talking.
The sky has turned to dusk. The moon has started peeking out behind the trees, shining down on us. The fire illuminates her silhouette casting shadows over her face.
“Why did Fitz write you a threatening letter? Why did he want to kill you?” I ask.
I already know the answer.
Liesel knows the answer too.
This is a test of trust and truth. Will she answer me honestly? Or will she lie?
“I don’t know. I’m as bewildered as you are. I would guess Waylon’s first political run put a target on us. Fitz wanted our money, and he thought we’d pay to avoid a scandal,” Liesel says, pulling her sweatshirt over her chest as she shivers. The wind has picked up, and the fire alone won’t be enough to keep her warm tonight. She stares up at the scattered stars through the trees, not looking at me.
Lies it is.
She didn’t tell me the truth. She knows why Fitz came after her. It’s the same reason I came after her—to figure out her secret and find the treasure she’s hiding.
My heart thumps hard like the beat of a war drum picking up steam. I used to like the lies we shared. Not anymore. There is too much at stake.
Liesel looks over at me, either because she can hear the heavy beat of my heart or because she wants to see my reaction to her lie.
Her lips thin as she tries to hide her emotions, but I can tell I’ve lit a spark of fear in her. I look like a deranged madman and the possibilities of what I will do scare her.
“No more lies, Liesel.”
She sits up, tucking her knees to her chest as she tries to stay warm on the opposite side of the fire from me.
“We don’t know how to do anything else, Langston. Don’t pretend like you’ve told me the truth either. I’m not here because of some silly promise when we were five. I’m not here because I owe you for killing Fitz. I’m here because of that damn letter you ripped in two.
“Nothing has changed, though. I won’t tell you what my half said, and you won’t tell me what your half said. So why try to get answers now? Why am I here?”
She hasn’t earned the truth. She hasn’t earned an answer. But I’m about to give her more truth than she’ll get from me the rest of her time here.
“I want the truth. And I will get the truth—no matter what it takes. The sooner you tell me everything you know, the better for you.
“Let’s start with one. One truth you’ve never told another soul. One piece of yourself that has only ever belonged to you.”
The wind stops. The leaves stop rustling. It’s eerily quiet as my words are the only sound on the island.
“I tell you a truth, and I go free?” she asks, her voice pained. She’d rather be raped, tortured; her body pulled apart limb by limb than offer me a truth. She will never admit that to me, but it’s true.
I shake my head. “One truth buys you more time on this planet. A lie shortens my patience, resulting in less time.”
“That gives me no incentive to tell you anything!”
I gave her a path to freedom. Death is freedom, right?
For most people, one honest truth would be easy. Not for Liesel. Not for me. Not when your whole life has been a lie.