Page 27 of This is Why We Lied

Mercy tucked her pad back in her pocket as she walked down the terraced path. She saw Fish by the equipment shed. He was hosing out the canoes. Mercy’s heart was pained at the sight of her brother on his knees. Fish was so earnest and true. He was the oldest child, but Papa had always treated him like an afterthought. Then Dave had come along and Bitty had made it clear who she really thought of as her son. It was no wonder he’d chosen to basically disappear.

She was about to call his name when Chuck came out of the equipment shed. His shirt was off. His face and chest were so red that they looked sunburned. He was carrying a piece of flattened out aluminum foil in one hand and a lighter in the other. The flame sparked. Smoke wafted off the foil. As Mercy watched, he held it up to Fish. Fish fanned the smoke toward his face, taking a deep breath.

“Mercy?” Chuck said.

“Dumbasses,” she hissed, turning back around.

“Mercy?” Fish called. “Mercy, please don’t—”

The sound of her feet running up the trail drowned out whatever else he had to say. She couldn’t believe her stupid brother. This was exactly what she’d warned him about during the family meeting. He wasn’t even bothering to hide it anymore. What if she’d been a guest? Jon had just been down at the shed. What if he’d come over the trail and seen the two of them cooking like that? How the hell would they explain that away?

Mercy kept going straight, bypassing the fork in toward the Loop. She didn’t slow her pace until she was on the other side of the boathouse. She wiped the sweat off her face. Wondered how the day could get any worse. She looked at her watch. She had an hour before she had to help with dinner prep. She still hadn’t talked to the kitchen about Chuck’s stupid peanut allergy.

“Christ,” she whispered. It was too much. Instead of heading back up the slope, she sank down onto the rocky shore. She forced out a long breath. Her senses keyed into nature on every side. The rustling leaves. The gentle waves. The smell of last night’s campfire. The warmth of the sun overhead.

She shushed out another breath.

This was her place of peace. The Shallows was like an invisible anchor that kept her tethered to the land. She couldn’t give this up. No one would ever love it the way she did.

Mercy watched the floating dock shift back and forth. She had also sought refuge here so many times. Papa hated the water, refused to learn how to swim. When he was on one of his tears, Mercy would swim out to the floating dock to get away from him. Sometimes, she would fall asleep under the stars. Sometimes, Fish would join her. Later, Dave did, too, but for different reasons.

Mercy felt her head shaking. She didn’t want to think about the bad stuff. Her brother had taught her how to swim here. He’d taught Dave how to tread water because Dave was too scared to stick his head below the surface. Mercy had shown Jon the best place to dive off the floating dock, the spot where the water was deepest, the spot where you could quietly slip away if guests showed up. When Jon was younger, they would come here on Sunday mornings. He would talk to her about school or girls or things he wanted to do with his life.

God knew he never opened up to her like that anymore, but Jon was a good kid. He wasn’t setting the world on fire at school, and he wasn’t popular by any stretch, but compared to his parents, he was pretty much thriving. All Mercy wanted was for him to be happy.

She wanted that more than anything in the world.

Jon would eventually find his people. It might take some time, but it would happen. He was kind. Mercy had no idea where he’d gotten that from. Sure, he had a quick temper like Dave. He made bad decisions like Mercy. But he doted on his grandmother. He only complained a little when Mercy put him to work. Of course he was bored up here. Every kid was bored up here. Twelve-year-old Mercy hadn’t started skimming from the liquor bottles because her life was so damn exciting.

“Fuck,” she breathed. Her brain wouldn’t stop going to the bad places.

She forced the switch to come on, mindlessly staring up at the impossibly blue sky until the sun shifted toward the range. She closed her eyelids against the burning light. The white dot left its memory in her retinas. She watched the color turn darker, almost navy. Then it scrolled into a word. Looping cursive. Arcing across Landry Peterson’s heart.

Gabbie.

The guests in cottage five had made their reservation under the name Gordon Wylie. A copy of Gordon’s driver’s license was on file for the booking. Gordon’s credit card had pre-paid the deposit, was used to secure the bill. Gordon’s license plate was on the Lexus at the trailhead. Gordon’s home address was on the shipping labels for their suitcases.

Landry’s name only appeared once on the registration, as the second guest. His employer was the same as Gordon’s: Wylie App Co. In retrospect, it sounded like something out of Looney Toons. For all Mercy knew, the name Landry was fake. The lodge only verified the person who was responsible for the bill. They took it on faith that people were honest about their jobs, their interests, their experience with horses and rock climbing and rafting.

Which meant that Landry Peterson could be anybody. He could be a covert lover. A longtime friend with benefits. A work colleague who was looking for something more. Or he could be related to the young woman that Mercy had killed seventeen years ago.

Her name had been Gabriella, but her family had called her Gabbie.

4

Sara sat on the edge of the bed and let herself cry. She was so overwhelmed by emotion that she actually sobbed. There had been so much stress leading up to the wedding. They’d had to postpone the ceremony by a month so she could get the cast off her broken wrist. She’d had to cancel orders and move around schedules and juggle work projects and postpone cases. Then there was the circus act of juggling cousins and aunts and uncles and making sure everyone had a hotel reservation and a car and food they would like and places they could go because some of them had flown across the ocean and had decided to stay for the week and wanted to know what they could do and see and Sara was apparently their personal Lonely Planet guide.

Her sister and mother had helped, and Will had done more than his fair share, but Sara had never been so relieved to have something over.

She looked down at the rings on her finger. She took a deep, calming breath. Sara deserved an Academy Award for not losing it this morning when Will had said they would start their honeymoon trip after taking a hike. Two hours away. In the mountains. When the airport was twenty minutes from his house.

Their house.

She had tried not to fret about it. Not while they were loading up their backpacks. Not when they got into the car. Not when they left the city limits. Not when they parked at the trailhead. Will was in charge of the honeymoon. Sara had to let him be in charge of it. But then they’d stopped for lunch in a field and she’d noticed that time was slipping away and she’d panicked that he was going to surprise her with some sort of camping situation.

Sara hated camping. Despised would be a better word. The only reason she had endured Girl Scouts was because she had been driven to earn all the badges.

Which was the story of Sara’s life. She had always pushed herself to the extreme. She’d graduated a year early from high school. Raced through undergrad. Battled to the top of her class in medical school. Gone balls to the walls during her residency. Then there was pediatrics practice, her transition to becoming a full-time medical examiner. She had always used her education in service to other people. To take care of children in a rural area and then at a public hospital. To give family members of crime victims some closure. And she’d looked after her little sister along the way. Taken care of her parents. Offered companionship to her aunt Bella. Supported her first husband. Grieved his death. Worked so hard to build something meaningful with Will. Survived his toxic ex-wife’s intrusions. Navigated his weird relationship with his boss. Became close friends with his partner. Fallen in love with his dog.

---