BooksBarbecue
Back Love and Other Lies
Chapters (61)
  1. Cover
  2. Dedication
  3. Imagine a girl
  4. Prologue
  5. The Foreigner
  6. One
  7. Two
  8. Three
  9. Four
  10. Five
  11. The Skeptic
  12. Six
  13. Seven
  14. Eight
  15. Nine
  16. Ten
  17. Eleven
  18. Twelve
  19. Thirteen
  20. Fourteen
  21. Fifteen
  22. Sixteen
  23. Seventeen
  24. Eighteen
  25. Nineteen
  26. Twenty
  27. Twenty-One
  28. Twenty-Two
  29. Twenty-Three
  30. The Spectator
  31. Twenty-Four
  32. Twenty-Five
  33. Twenty-Six
  34. Twenty-Seven
  35. Twenty-Eight
  36. Twenty-Nine
  37. The Assassin
  38. Thirty
  39. Thirty-One
  40. Thirty-Two
  41. Thirty-Three
  42. Thirty-Four
  43. Thirty-Five
  44. Thirty-Six
  45. Thirty-Seven
  46. Thirty-Eight
  47. Thirty-Nine
  48. Forty
  49. Forty-One
  50. The Hunter
  51. Forty-Two
  52. Forty-Three
  53. Forty-Four
  54. Forty-Five
  55. Forty-Six
  56. Forty-Seven
  57. Imagine a girl
  58. Acknowledgments
  59. About the Author
  60. Also by Ben McPherson
  61. About the Publisher

She walked forward past the main house and along the rear of the stage until she was standing directly behind the men. Both wore pistols, she could see now, in holsters by their right hips. The shorter of the two was fidgeting the knuckle of his hand against the grip. At his feet were the two cracked leather travel bags.

Random. Something about this was definitely random. She took out her phone, dialed Leela.

“Hey,” said Leela.

“Leela, who brings a pistol to speak to a bunch of girls? Like, really, what’s the threat?”

“I mean, a bomb went off,” said Leela. “Where are you?”

“Yes, but here?” she said. “What’s the threat here?”

“I guess sisterhood is powerful.”

A loud click on the PA system. The taller policeman cleared his throat. “Hello. I would like to ask everyone, whatever their role, to gather in the meeting room of the main house. I have important information to share about the bomb in town. I’m sure you have many questions.”

Leela laughed. “Seriously, where are you? I don’t see you.”

“Leela,” she said, “wait.”

“Wait, why?”

“We could . . . not go . . .”

The policeman was repeating his words in Norwegian. People began to flow from the seating bank around the sides of the stage and toward the main house.

“How come stealing a boat is not a problem for you, but meeting people is?”

“I mean, it’s probably nothing, but I’m getting a vibe . . .”

“You’re getting a vibe?”

“It’s all a bit too random. Where’s the cabin? I want to go find it.” The words came out wrong. She sounded as if she were pleading.

“Seriously? No.”

“Then tell me what they say. See you later.”

She began walking against the stream of people and across the clearing toward the trees.

“Number forty-seven,” said Leela. “Past the first bunch of cabins, down the path toward the generator block. I put my towel and my elephant wash bag on your bunk. You utter rando.”

She stopped at the first line of cabins. This feeling—it was more than nerves. More than paranoia. She was sure of it. She sat cross-legged on the grass, slid the metal box out of her backpack. Weird that it would be so rusty, so old-looking, when everything else about the policemen was so new. Like it had been stored in a barn or something.