Page 13 of This is Why We Lied

Mercy left the kitchen. She walked past the accordion doors, the Palladian windows, the crank casements. In the dark foyer, she wrapped her hand around the doorknob, but paused before opening it. Jon was trying to back the truck into its space. She could hear the gears grinding as he slipped the clutch.

She took a deep breath, then slowly shushed it out.

There was history in this dark room. Sweat and toil and land that had been passed down for over one hundred and sixty years. Photographs covered the walls, all of them marking the important milestones: a daguerreotype of the fishing shack. Sepia-toned prints of various McAlpines working around the property. Digging the first well. The WPA bringing in the power line. The annexation of Camp Awinita. Boy Scouts singing around a campfire. Guests roasting marshmallows by the lake. The first color photo showed off the new indoor plumbing. The bachelor cottages. The floating dock. The paddle boathouse. The family portraits. The generations of McAlpines; the marriages and funerals and babies and life.

Mercy didn’t need photographs. She had recorded her own history. Diaries from her childhood. Ledgers she’d found hidden in the office and tucked into the back of an old cupboard in the kitchen. The notebooks she had started keeping on her own. There were secrets that would destroy Dave. Revelations that would tear Fish apart. Crimes that could send Bitty to prison. And the sheer evil that Papa had committed to keep this place in his violent, greedy hands.

None of them were going to take the lodge away from Mercy.

They would have to kill her first.

2

TEN HOURS BEFORE THE MURDER

Will was quickly starting to understand that there was a big difference between running five miles a day on the streets of Atlanta and hiking up a mountain. Maybe it had been a bad idea to spend almost his entire life training the muscles in his legs for exactly one thing. It didn’t help that Sara was springing up the pass like a gazelle. He always derived a great deal of pleasure watching her go through her morning yoga routine. He hadn’t realized she was secretly conditioning herself for an Iron Man competition.

He took his water bottle out of his backpack as an excuse to stop. “We should stay hydrated.”

The sly smile on her face told him she knew exactly what he was up to. She turned around, taking in the view. “It’s so beautiful up here. I forget how nice it is to be surrounded by trees.”

“We’ve got trees in Atlanta.”

“Not like this.”

Will had to give her that. The long-range mountain view was jaw-dropping if you didn’t feel like murder hornets were attacking your calves.

“Thank you for bringing me here.” She rested her hands on his shoulders. “This is a perfect way to start our honeymoon.”

“Last night was pretty fantastic.”

“This, morning, too.” She gave him a lingering kiss. “What time do we have to be at the airport?”

He grinned. Sara had been in charge of the wedding. Will was in charge of the honeymoon, and he’d done everything he could to keep it a secret, down to asking her sister to do the packing. Their suitcases had already been shipped to the lodge. He’d told Sara they were going to go for a day hike, enjoy a leisurely picnic, then head back to Atlanta and fly out to their destination.

Will asked, “What time do you want to be at the airport?”

“Is it an overnight flight?”

“Is it?”

“Are we going to be sitting for a long while? Is that why you wanted to get some exercise first?”

“Are we?”

“You can drop the act.” She playfully tugged at his ear. “Tessa told me everything.”

Will almost fell for it. Sara was incredibly close to her sister, but there was no way Tessa had ratted him out. “Good try.”

“I’m going to need to know what to pack,” she said, which was valid but also sneaky. “Do I need a swimsuit or do I need a heavy coat?”

“You mean, are we going to the beach or are we going to the Arctic?”

“Are you seriously going to make me wait until tonight?”

Will had been silently weighing the right time to spring their destination on her. Should he wait until they reached the lodge? Should he tell her before they got there? Would she be happy with his choice? She’d mentioned an overnight flight. Did she think they were going somewhere romantic, like Paris? Maybe he should’ve taken her to Paris. If he donated enough blood, he could probably swing a youth hostel.

“My love.” She smoothed her thumb along his brow. “Wherever we end up, I’m going to be happy because I’m with you.”

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