"Have you ever been convicted of a crime?"
"No."
Truth.
"Have you ever used illegal drugs?"
"Recreationally in college. Nothing since."
Truth. Mostly. A little marijuana at a party when I was twenty didn't count.
"Have you ever stolen from an employer?"
"No."
Truth. I'd stolenfromemployers—other people's employers—but never from my own.
Forrest glanced at his monitor. Made another note.
I couldn't read his expression.
Stone shifted his weight. Watching. Waiting.
Quentin sat perfectly still. I could feel his eyes on me even though I refused to look.
"Let's discuss your work history," Forrest continued. "Did you work for Crescent City Hauling and Freight?"
"Yes."
Lie.
I thought about the cover story. Made it real in my mind. The Lake Charles port. The humidity. The smell of diesel and salt water. I'd been there on family business. The memories were real even if the employment wasn't.
Make the lie true.
"Did you leave that position due to the company's bankruptcy?"
"Yes."
True enough. I'd "left" because they went under. The fact that I'd never actually worked there was irrelevant.
Forrest's eyes narrowed slightly. Had he caught something?
"Your references from Crescent City—are they legitimate?"
Dangerous question.
"Yes."
The references existed. Real people who'd been paid or convinced to vouch for Julia Russell. From the reference's perspective, they were telling the truth.
Layers upon layers.
I controlled my breathing. Steady heart rate. No perspiration.
Stone leaned forward. "Ask her about New York."
My pulse jumped.
