Trust Me, I’m Lying Five Liars, One Missing Therapist, and a Truth Too Twisted to Trust Kaka Ruto

Open Prologue

Minutes from Session #47

The following transcript was recovered from a digital recording device found in the office of Dr. Eleanor Marsh, PhD. The quality is degraded in parts. Speaker identification has been attempted but cannot be guaranteed.

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DR. MARSH: Let's begin our session. As always, what's said in this room stays in this room. I see everyone is present today—

VOICE 1 [identified as likely THOMAS]: Except Rebecca.

DR. MARSH: Rebecca is here, Thomas. She's sitting right next to you.

VOICE 2 [identified as likely REBECCA]: I've been here for twenty minutes. I even brought the biscuits everyone's eating.

THOMAS: [unintelligible] ...wasn't talking about that Rebecca.

DR. MARSH: Let's focus. We've been meeting for almost a year now, and I think we've made progress. Today I'd like to try something different. Instead of discussing your week, I want each of you to tell the group about the first time you remember consciously lying. Not a white lie,

Open Chapter 1

The Empty Chair

Thomas arrived exactly seven minutes early to the session, as he always did. The community center's fluorescent lights hummed overhead, casting everyone in a sickly pallor that somehow felt appropriate. He selected his usual chair—third from the left, the one with a slight wobble that no one else wanted—and arranged his notebook and pen at precise right angles on his lap.

Diana was already there, of course. She practically lived in the building if her stories were to be believed, which they weren't. She nodded at him with that enigmatic half-smile that suggested she knew something he didn't.

"You're looking well," she said.

"No, I'm not," Thomas replied. It was their usual greeting. One of them lied, the other called it out. A small ritual among people who couldn't help themselves.

Michael shuffled in next, wearing what appeared to be a genuine NASA jacket despite the unseasonably warm March weather. His latest persona. Last month he'd been an ex-MI6 operative. The month bef

Open Chapter 2

True Lies

"My name is Jonathan Blackwood," Thomas said, the words feeling foreign in his mouth after so long. "Not Thomas Elliot, as I've been telling you all."

No one looked particularly surprised. They'd all assumed each other's names were fabrications anyway. It was the details that followed that would matter.

"I was an accountant for Harrington Global Investments until eighteen months ago." He paused, measuring his words carefully. "I specialized in their offshore holdings. The kind that don't officially exist."

"Tax evasion?" Aisha asked, leaning forward slightly.

Jonathan shook his head. "That would have been relatively benign. No, I handled accounts that moved money for people who needed certain... services. Untraceable services."

"You laundered money for hitmen," Michael translated bluntly.

"Among others," Jonathan admitted. "I didn't know that's what I was doing, not at first. The accounts were coded, compartmentalized. But I'm good with patterns. Too good, as it turns out."

Open Chapter 3

Family Therapy

The accusation hung in the air like a physical presence. Four pairs of eyes fixed on Emma, expressions ranging from shock to disbelief to something harder to read.

"That's quite an allegation," Diana said finally, her researcher's detachment slipping. "What evidence do you have?"

Emma opened her bag and removed a clear plastic evidence bag containing a mobile phone. "This is my mother's phone. I found it this morning when I went to her flat after she didn't answer my calls." Her voice remained steady, but her knuckles were white around the bag. "She was supposed to meet me for dinner last night. She never showed up."

"That doesn't mean she's dead," Peter said, though his tone lacked conviction.

"There was blood in her study," Emma continued. "Not a lot, but enough. And signs of a struggle. Her laptop is missing. So are her patient files."

Jonathan leaned forward. "Did you call the police?"

"Yes. They're treating it as a missing persons case for now. They think she might