Page 20 of This is Why We Lied

Will kissed her before he left.

The sunlight was dancing off the Shallows when he walked down the stone stairs. He held up his hand to block the light until he made it down to the path. Instead of following the Loop Trail back to the main compound, Will headed in the direction of the lake to familiarize himself with the way. The scenery changed as he got closer to the water. He could feel moisture in the air. Hear the soft lapping of waves. The sun was lower in the sky. He passed the lookout bench, which, as advertised, looked out. Will felt that same peacefulness envelope him. Drew was right about getting a reset from being in nature. And Sara was right about the trees. Everything felt different here. Slower. Less stressful. It was going to be hard to leave at the end of the week.

Will stared out into the distance, allowing himself a few minutes to blank out his mind and enjoy the moment. He hadn’t realized how much tension he’d been holding in his body until it was no longer there. He looked down at the ring on his finger. Except for the Timex on his wrist, he wasn’t a jewelry guy, but he liked the dark finish on the titanium ring Sara had picked out for him. They had basically proposed to each other at the same time. Will had read that you were supposed to spend three months of your salary on an engagement ring. Sara’s doctor’s salary had given him the better part of the bargain.

He should probably be finding ways to thank her for it rather than staring slack-jawed into the distance. Will turned back the way he’d come. He could watch the sun’s progress from the bathtub with Sara. She had obviously wanted him out of the cottage for a few minutes. Will worked to turn off his detective brain as he passed by the stone stairs. Sara knew it would’ve been easier to pick up some new pillows after dinner. She probably wanted to surprise him with something nice. The thought made Will grin as he turned a sharp bend in the trail.

“Hey, Trashcan.”

Will looked up. There was a man standing twenty feet away. Smoking a cigarette, spoiling the clean air. Will hadn’t been called by that nickname in a long while. It had been given to him at the children’s home. There wasn’t a clever reason behind it. As an infant, the police had found him inside a trash can.

“Come on, Trash,” the man said. “Don’t you recognize me?”

Will studied the stranger. He was dressed in painter’s pants and a stained white T-shirt. Shorter than Will. Rounder. The yellow in his eyes and the spiderweb of broken blood vessels indicated a long-standing issue with substances. Still, that didn’t narrow down his identity. Most of the kids Will had grown up with had struggled with addiction. It was hard not to.

“Are you fucking with me?” The man blew out a stream of smoke as he slowly walked toward Will. “You really don’t recognize me?”

Will felt a sense of dread. It was the deliberate slowness that triggered a memory. One minute, Will was standing on a mountain path with a stranger, the next minute, he was sitting in the common room at the children’s home watching the boy they all called the Jackal slowly make his way down the stairs. One step. Then the next. His finger dragging along the railing like a sickle.

There was an unwritten rule in adoption circles that you didn’t want a child who was older than six. They were too lost after that. Too damaged. Will had seen this play out dozens of times at the children’s home. Older kids would go out to foster families or, rarely, adoptions. The ones that came back always had a certain look in their eyes. Sometimes they would tell you their stories. Other times, you could read what had happened by the scars on their bodies. Cigarette burns. The distinctive hook of a wire hanger. The rippled scar of a baseball bat. The bandaged wrists where they had tried to end the misery on their own terms.

They all tried to heal their damage in different ways. Binging and purging. Night terrors. Lashing out. Some couldn’t stop cutting themselves. Some disappeared into a pipe or a bottle. Some couldn’t control their rage. Others became masters of the awkward silence.

A few learned to weaponize their damage against others. They were given nicknames like the Jackal because they were cunning, aggressive predators. They didn’t make friendships. They made strategic alliances that were easily dropped when a better opportunity came along. They lied to your face. Stole your things. Spread shitty rumors about you. Broke into the main office and read your file. Found out what had happened to you, things you didn’t even know about yourself. Then they came up with a nickname for you. Like Trashcan. And it followed you around for the rest of your life.

“There it is,” the Jackal said. “You remember me now.”

Will felt all the tension flood back into his body. “What do you want, Dave?”

3

Mercy pointed in the direction of the small kitchen inside cottage three. “Coffeemaker’s there. Pods are in the box there. Mugs are—”

“We got this.” Keisha had a knowing smile on her face. She ran a catering business in Atlanta. She knew what it was like to go through the same routine day after day. “Thank you, Mercy. We’re overjoyed to be back.”

“Extra overjoyed.” Drew was standing at the open French doors off the living room. All the one-bedroom cottages overlooked the Cherokee Ridge. “I can already feel my blood pressure dropping.”

“You’re still taking your pills, mister.” Keisha turned to Mercy. “How’s your daddy doing?”

“He’s doing,” Mercy said, trying not to clench her teeth. She hadn’t seen any of her family since she’d threatened to ruin their lives. “It’s y’all’s third time here. We’re all real happy you came back again.”

Keisha said, “Make sure Bitty knows we’d still like to talk with her.”

Mercy noted her voice had an edge to it, but she had enough shit on her plate right now without turning everything into a shit sandwich. “Will do.”

“Seems like you’ve got a good group this time,” Drew said. “With a few exceptions.”

Mercy kept her smile plastered on. She’d met the dentist and her yippy husband. It hadn’t been surprising when Monica had handed over her Amex and told Mercy to keep the liquor flowing.

Keisha said, “I really liked the teacher, Sara. We got to know each other on the trail.”

“Husband seemed like a nice guy,” Drew said. “Mind if we team up?”

“No problem.” Mercy kept her tone light, even though she’d have to redo the entire schedule after supper. “Fishtopher has some great spots picked out for you guys. I think you’re going to be really pleased.”

“I’m already pleased.” Drew looked down at Keisha. “Are you pleased?”

“Oh, honey, I’m always pleased.”

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