About the author
A. I. Gomez is a former counselor for sexually abused children. After having children of her own, she found it was too difficult to have happy kids and also keep the judges and prosecutors happy, so she decided to become a stay-at-home mom.
A. I. Gomez lives in Texas with her three kids, husband and dog. The entire family enjoys anything and everything outdoors, especially sports. This is her first novel.
Truth or Lies?
A. I. Gomez
Truth or Lies?
Vanguard Press
VANGUARD PAPERBACK
© Copyright 2021
A. I. Gomez
The right of A. I. Gomez to be identified as author of
this work has been asserted by her in accordance with the
Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.
All Rights Reserved
No reproduction, copy or transmission of this publication
may be made without written permission.
No paragraph of this publication may be reproduced,
copied or transmitted save with the written permission of the publisher, or in accordance with the provisions
of the Copyright Act 1956 (as amended).
Any person who commits any unauthorised act in relation to
this publication may be liable to criminal
prosecution and civil claims for damages.
A CIP catalogue record for this title is
available from the British Library.
ISBN 978 1 784659 16 5
Vanguard Press is an imprint of
Pegasus Elliot MacKenzie Publishers Ltd.
www.pegasuspublishers.com
First Published in 2021
Vanguard Press
Sheraton House Castle Park
Cambridge England
Printed & Bound in Great Britain
Dedication
Dedicated to my late Mother,
for her lifelong passion for reading.
Acknowledgements
Special thanks to my good friend and my new alpha reader, Allison. You’re a kick-ass lawyer, a loving mother and wife, the CEO of your household and now you can add rock star reader to the list. You took the time to read my entire manuscript and gave me feedback, regardless of your busy schedule. You were brutally honest and sincere and I appreciated that. It meant so much to me to get your stamp of approval. Thank you, Allison!
To Pegasus and everyone who played a role in the publication of this book. Thank you, thank you so much for taking a chance on me. Thank you, Vicky Gorry, for being patient with me and always answering all my questions. It was a learning process and I appreciate your help and understanding, especially in our current pandemic state.
1
I was talking to myself while I was at a red light, going over and over how I was going to answer the defense attorney once I got to court. For once, I was running on time. I was making a few mental notes when I felt a light bump. I paused and looked out my windows. I looked at my side mirrors and rear-view mirror as well. I wasn’t sure if the truck behind me had just hit me or what. The person in it was looking down, so I decided to ignore it. Whatever it was. Then something bumped me again. It wasn’t hard but I was sure this time that truck behind me hit me. No way the wind was that strong in this city. I knew they called it the Windy City but give me a break, that was a hit from behind, not the wind. I looked in my rear-view mirror again and a silver pickup truck was right there on top of my cute car. But where was the driver? I saw no head or body in my rearview mirror. “Great! It had to be this day,” I told myself with irritation in my voice. I got out to assess the damage on my poor car but I still didn’t see a driver. Hm…should I call the police? Then a head popped up—it was a man and he was waving. Weird. I looked fixedly to see what he could possibly be doing. It looked like he was fidgeting with something on his suit jacket or a man purse? Hmm.
The guy finally finished, after what seemed like an eternity of fidgeting. “Sorry!” he yelled, as he got out of his truck. He jogged/walked to my car and was out of breath at that point. Why was he out of breath? His truck was practically on top of my car.
“I was trying to secure my gun.” He paused for a moment, looking at me in blank confusion. “I don’t know why I just told you that.”
I felt a spasm of panic—perhaps more so since he was a towering six-foot something of intimidating muscle. Well, shit. He looked like a blond, blue-eyed Adonis but sounded like a sociopath. Why did it have to be me? And today of all days! Sigh. I gazed at him nervously—my mouth open, trying to say something, but what does one say after a comment like that? Should I laugh? Should I excuse myself and call the police? No, instead we just stared at each other for the longest, most uncomfortable minute ever. Why didn’t he say something? Why didn’t I say something? I cleared my throat, wringed my hands nervously and decided to break the awkward silence.
“Okaaay. Why don’t you give me all of your information so I can get to court and we can settle this when neither of us is in a rush.” I tried to be as polite as possible and just as calm. I was still a little panicked.
“Court? You’re a lawyer?” He was still staring and he took a few steps toward me—my spasm of panic getting a little worse now.
“No,” I prompted, “I’m a psychologist for abused children and today…” I stopped abruptly, eyeing him. Why was I telling him this? It’s none of his business. Stay calm, Isabel, and don’t let your voice shake, I reminded myself. I glanced at my watch, “Please, just give
