“Our dad,” Charlotte piped up. “His name was Abraham Lee Whelan. He was into computers like Hannah.”
Charlotte Ann Whelan.
Abraham Lee Whelan.
Without conscious thought, I filed away the names. Though I wasn’t sure why.
I glanced at Hannah. “Oh, really? I didn’t know Hannah was ‘into’ computers.”
Hannah fidgeted in her seat, not enjoying the attention. “Cory says you got to sit out in the garden today, Char. Is that squirrel family still living in the oak tree?”
She was changing the subject.
“Han has always been obsessed with computers. She used to build her own computer games when she was little. She went to school to be a programmer,” Mrs. Whelan went on proudly, ignoring her daughter’s efforts to talk about something else.
“Wow, I had no idea.” I smiled at Hannah. “But she’s really smart, so it doesn’t surprise me.” Hannah was uncomfortable. She held on to Charlotte’s hand, not looking at me. I didn’t want to make her feel awkward by talking about her as if she wasn’t in the room.
“I’m into computers too; it’s what I did before I was recruited by the FBI. Seems that’s something Hannah and I have in common.”
“I wanted to be a basketball star,” Charlotte said as Hannah cleaned up after her meal.
“A basketball star? I thought you were a gymnast,” I commented. Hannah’s cheeks flushed as she smoothed Charlotte’s blankets over her lap.
Mrs. Whelan frowned. “A gymnast? Our Charlotte? Not likely,” she said and laughed. “Charlotte was the tomboy type, weren’t you, sweetheart?”
“I liked basketball. I miss playing,” Charlotte said.
“My brother was a basketball player too,” I said, a knot forming in my stomach. Mrs. Whelan began to fuss over her daughter and I turned to Hannah.
“Why did you tell me Charlotte was a gymnast if she wasn’t?”
Why did this woman keep lying to me?
Over and over again.
Hannah seemed confused. “I don’t remember saying she was a gymnast. If I did, it was an accident. Charlotte played basketball. Are you sure I said that?”
Now I was starting to question my memory of the conversation. I remembered it had been during one of our first phone calls. I was talking about Dillon playing basketball and Hannah mentioned Charlotte being a gymnast.
I was sure of it.
Was I?
“Charlotte was a basketball all-star at our high school,” Hannah went on proudly, patting her sister’s arm.
I wanted to press Hannah about the gymnast story, but she seemed so unconcerned. Maybe she had never said that. Perhaps I was getting the conversation confused with something else.
She lied to me again.
The voice was yelling again.
But I wasn’t convinced I should listen. Why would Hannah introduce me to her sister and mother if she was being purposefully dishonest?
She lies about everything.
Everything?
The doubt was there again.
