3 Truths and a Lie: A Detective D. D. Warren Story
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In Lisa Gardner’s second short story, after the New York Times bestseller The 7th Month, Detective D.D. Warren takes on her most intimidating assignment yet: a fifty-minute class meant to educate a horde of bloodthirsty thriller writers on the ways of actual police work. Yet sometimes life really does imitate fiction, as D.D. takes the writers through the reality of one of her most twisted cases―a case that involves a seedy motel room, drugs, prostitution…and a severed leg.
With Gardner’s trademark suspense, sharp observations, and thrilling storytelling, Three Truths and a Lie is a fascinating chapter in D.D.’s storied career.
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found only a knotted silk tie serving as the tourniquet. Except this didn’t make sense to him. What kind of man goes to the trouble to research dry ice, only to botch a basic tourniquet? “So he went back to the bathroom and searched the floor on his hands and knees. Where Neil discovered, behind the toilet, a bloody plastic pen bearing the name of the consulting firm where Wrobleski worked. Neil’s theory: Wrobleski had fashioned a proper tourniquet using the pen to get the necessary torque. But
someone reconsider her line of work.” “Is it the glitter?” someone else spoke up. “I mean, can you really trace glitter?” “Want to have some fun? Attend my husband Alex’s lecture on blood spatter. Ask him about glitter as trace evidence. I’m telling you now, the man will practically levitate with excitement..” “So what’s the lie?” Time to go now, the doorway and hall stacking up with the next class waiting to enter. D.D. smiled. Followed her own students to the door. “The lie was implicit
be sick again,” she moaned, feet tangling, finally slowing his momentum. “Drank too much.” His voice was filled with scorn. “You don’t understand. You don’t know who I am.” He paused long enough to adjust his grip on her arm. “Shouldn’t have come to the bar alone.” “But I’m always alone.” He didn’t get it. Or maybe he didn’t care. He stared at her, gaze flat, face expressionless. Then, his arm shot forward, and he socked her in the eye. Her neck snapped back. Her cheek exploded. Her eyes
first to admit, an unusual element at a crime scene. In addition to the dry ice, we found rubber gloves—blood-soaked—and a hacksaw—also blood-spattered—on the floor next to the toilet. In the sink, we discovered several round green pills. Being a savvy detective, my partner Neil ran the number stamped on the pills through the drug ID website and determined they were OxyContin.” Fresh hand in the front. “Yes.” “The drugs are a lie. Who brings painkillers to a dismemberment?” “Great question.