Noble Lies Read Online Free

bench the schoolgirls looked at the paper with unveiled disgust.
    Robin zippered open a large pocket on her backpack. She reached inside and took out a manila envelope, yanked the pocket closed and dropped the backpack to the floor. She slid a small stack of photos from the envelope. “This is my brother.” She handed Mark several of the pictures. “They’re from a vacation a couple summers back.”
    The photos could have passed for candids from a Calvin Klein shoot—the dark-haired man, muscled body glistening with sun block and sweat, grinning at the camera. She picked up the third shot, a close up, looking at it for a long moment before handing it to Mark.
    â€œYou sure this is the guy in the video?”
    â€œI’m sure. On this one you can see his tattoos. He’s got one like this Celtic chain on his upper arm. And you can see part of the one on his shoulder, the dragon.” She reached up and patted her own back to show the area. “He was a little thinner in the video and his hair was longer, but yeah, it was Shawn.”
    â€œThat’s your brother’s name? Shawn?”
    â€œYup, Shawn Keller.”
    Mark tapped the edge of the photo. “I thought your name was Antonucci?”
    She seemed surprised by the question. “It is,” she said. “I got married.”
    â€œWhen?”
    â€œA few years ago. Didn’t last a year.”
    Mark looked at the picture. “How much older is he?”
    â€œFive years. He just turned thirty last month.”
    â€œWhy’s he in Thailand?”
    Robin opened her mouth to speak, and the way she held her chin high and stared up at nothing, Mark could tell she was debating what she would say, how she would spin it. When she closed her eyes and gave her head a slight shake, a deep breath starting as a sigh and ending in an ironic laugh, Mark decided she would tell him something close to the truth.
    â€œShawn was the classic stoner. He smoked a lot of dope. Hash, too. Thai stick, sinsemilla, Santa Maria, Afghan Gold. Never got into the hard stuff but with as much as he was smoking it probably didn’t make much of a difference. Before school, between classes, after school. He was all into that High Times lifestyle, saw himself as a real connoisseur, even got snobby about it. You know the type?”
    Mark knew the type. There were a lot in high school, not as many in the Marines, but more than their squeaky clean image implied. He didn’t know as many now. The stuff was still around but the people he encountered were more interested in moving it than using it. “Thailand’s a long way to go just to catch a buzz.”
    â€œHe went for the drugs, but not how you think. Shawn’s been clean and sober for over five years but he likes to test himself, prove how committed he is. He hangs around stoners and party people, waiting for someone to pass him a joint or a pipe just so he can smirk and pass it on. He’s like a recovering alcoholic who still keeps a stool at the bar.”
    â€œDangerous, isn’t it? Easy does it, one day at a time, one hit away from addiction, that sort of crap?” Mark said, trying to remember how that bumper sticker put it.
    Robin shrugged. “That’s why he does it. It’s dangerous. He swapped one high for another.”
    â€œAnd the biggest highs are in Thailand?”
    â€œThat’s just the latest stop. He’s been to Colombia, Mexico, all these little Central American countries. Haiti. Some place called Marrakech,” she waved her hand, the gesture suggesting dozens of forgotten drug filled locales. “He liked it in Thailand. Had a job with a hotel, they gave him a little place to stay. He took groups out for dives, scuba lessons, snorkeling.”
    â€œYou didn’t approve?”
    â€œAll I know is that if he didn’t have that stupid job he wouldn’t have been there when the wave hit.” There was an edge to