This is Why We Lied (Will Trent, #12)

by Karin Slaughter

That brought the total number to eighteen people on the compound. Any one of them could’ve screamed. “The fighting couple at dinner.” Sara worked the buttons on her dress. “The dentist was wasted. The IT guy was—” “What about the single guy?” Will’s cargo pants skidded up his wet legs. “The one who kept needling Mercy?”

Fish was the oldest, but he’d never been interested in management.

“I want photos,” Papa said. “Document the damage. And make sure you put all your shit away. There’s a storm coming. I’m not paying for another table saw because you didn’t have the sense to get it out of the rain.”

“I think—” Dave started drumming his fingers on the table. “I think the investors aren’t here to invest. They’re here to buy.”

“Delilah drove down for a vote, right?”

Dave said, “The family trust says you’ve gotta have sixty percent of the vote in order to sell the commercial part of the property. You’ve got me working on those cottages so we can include that land in the commercial part, right?”

Mercy would have to watch every penny because she was a convicted felon with two DUIs who’d dropped out of high school to have a baby. God only knew if the money would last into her old age. If she made it that long.

We’ve got guests coming. Dave, fix the toilet in three. Fish, get those canoes cleaned out. Bitty, remind the kitchen Chuck’s allergic to peanuts. And you, Papa. I know you can’t do much, but you damn well better keep your fucking sister away from my son.”

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.

“I’m going to fuck you against every wall in the cottage.”

“I’m a mechanic. My wife teaches high school chemistry.”

“Monica’s a dentist. Did you take chemistry, Monica?”

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.

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 y...

Chuck bellowed across the compound. He was carrying his usual gigantic water jug like he was some kind of elite athlete desperately in need of hydration. He walked like he was

He walked like he was throwing one foot after the other, which was why Dave had started calling him Chuck—dude chucks his feet like he’s tossing sledgehammers.

Dave had started calling him Chuck—dude chucks his feet like he’s t...

was a maxillofacial surgeon in a former life.” Landry tilted his head, studying her like she was a specimen under glass.

“They did a good job. Must’ve taken quite a few sutures. How long were you in the OR?”

Trashcan had always featured prominently in Dave’s stories of his tragic youth. The bumbling kid was the punchline to almost every joke.

whether it was cooking or cleaning or something in the bedroom. Something that hurt. Something that made her feel dirty and small. Anything that would make him feel better.

And then Mercy had realized that what had happened to Dave when he was a child didn’t matter. What mattered was the hell he put her through now that he was an adult. His need was the bottomless hole in the quicksand.

All your life, you make everybody feel so goddam little cause that’s the only way you can make yourself feel big.”

“I ain’t never stole from nobody I love. Never. And fuck you for saying that.”

Strangulation was a giant red flag. At least that was what Mercy had read online. When a man put his hands around a woman’s neck, that woman was six times more likely to suffer serious violence or die by homicide.

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.

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.

“I started counting down from ten.” Will shrugged. “I can’t tell you whether or not I was actually going to hit him, but he scampered off when I got to eight, so we’ll never know.”

She silently counted place settings. Frank and Monica, Sara and Will, Landry and Gordon, Drew and Keisha. Sydney and Max, the investors, were down with the family. Chuck was by Fish so they could sulk together. Delilah had been put at the end like an afterthought, which seemed appropriate.

“What do I need?” “Safety.”

Safety was the one thing she had never felt.

“Because I told him you have my vote.

“People think I’m a lesbian because I wear Birkenstocks, but I always tell them I’m a lesbian because I love having sex with women.” “Me, too!” Frank barked out a laugh. He raised his glass of water in a toast.

“Hey.” Will had stood up when Jon had grabbed his mother. He walked over, telling the boy. “Let’s go outside.” Jon spun around, screaming, “Fuck off, Trashcan!”

My mother just fired me.”

“There’s hardly a person on this mountain right now who doesn’t want to kill me.”

“Places like this, you scratch a little bit under the surface and all sorts of bad things come out.” Will gave her a careful look. “I know what you’re going to say: this is why we lied.”

“Christopher should be so lucky. He’s had terrible luck with women. His high school girlfriend got pregnant by another boy. Then that awful business happened with Gabbie.”

They all had a reason to want her dead, but Dave used to beat the hell out of Mercy. Broken bones. Bruises. No one ever said or did anything to stop it. Except for me, and a lot of good that did.

Will was familiar with an abused child’s need to help everyone but themselves.

“This is why we lie,” Dave said. “You tell this shit to a normal person, they can’t take it.”

Shitty men were like periods. Once you had your first one, your life was consumed by dread or panic over when it would show up again.

It was a chaste scene. They were both clothed. Jon was lying in Bitty’s arms.

The government goes after fucking presidents. They’re not gonna stop at some dried-up old pedophile. Especially when I put the proof in their hands.”

There actually was a certain amount of love that could turn a man around.