Page 57 - TruthAboutLyingFinal
P. 57
Nicholas Boothman
Henry recognized the sound.
Not guilt.
Terror.
The younger man pointed at Martin’s fist. “Then open your hand.”
Martin pulled his fist closer to his chest.
The room quieted.
Vincent crouched beside him.
“Martin,” he said softly, “what’s in your hand?” Martin’s eyes flicked to the crowd.
“Nothing.”
The lie was small.
Almost nothing.
And yet Henry felt the whole room lean toward it.
“Open your hand,” the younger man said.
Martin closed his eyes.
Then he opened his fist.
A folded twenty-dollar bill lay in his palm.
The younger man lunged, but Vincent caught him with one hand.
“Easy.”
“You see? He stole it.” Martin shook his head hard. “No. No, I found it.” “Bullshit.”
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