This Is How I Lied

by Heather Gudenkauf

  “Oh, I don’t want to be a bother,” Nola said half-heartedly. This was going to be easier than she thought.

  “Yeah, but you’ve got to eat,” Colin said. “And you are over at that house all alone.”

  “It has been a little lonely over there without my mom around,” Nola admitted.

  “Come on, I just sold my sculptures. This is big and this is how I want to celebrate.” Colin lowered his voice to a conspiratorial whisper. “And honestly, I love my dad but it would be nice to have a fresh face around the house. We can share adult children living with their parent horror stories. How about tomorrow night at six?”

  “Okay then,” Nola finally agreed. “Tomorrow night.”

  “Hey, Mr. Kennedy!” Nola shouted. Henry turned his head toward her voice. Nola stepped past Colin. “It’s Nola Knox,” she said. “You remember me, don’t you? I grew up next door.” She stopped at the bottom of the porch steps.

  Henry narrowed his eyes and looked her up and down. “You’re the one who chopped the heads off all our peony bushes,” he said leaning dangerously over the porch railing to get a good look at the top-heavy pink-and-white blooms that line the side of the house.

  “Guilty.” Nola held up her hands in defeat. “In my defense I was only nine at the time.”

  “Why’d you do it?” Henry asked gruffly.

  Nola shrugged. “I guess someone must have pissed me off.”

  Henry laughed. Nola peeked over at Colin. He looked pleased.

  “Dad, you ready to go?” Colin asked. “We’re delivering the sculptures to Willow Creek today.”

  “I don’t want to go,” Henry said, gripping the handrail tightly. “Where’s Leanne?”

  “This is her afternoon off. Come on, Dad,” Colin urged. “It’s a horse farm. It will be fun to see the horses, won’t it?”

  “I don’t want to go,” Henry repeated stubbornly.

  “I can’t be late with this delivery. They’re expecting me. This is a big deal.” Frustration crept into Colin’s voice.

  “Or,” Nola said, chiming in, “I can sit with you here on the porch, Henry. And you can remind me of all the mean things I did as a kid.”

  “Or,” Colin said, “we can stop at Culver’s when we’re done. We can get something to eat. Dad, you like their ice cream.”

  “I’ll stay with her,” Henry said nodding at Nola.

  “I don’t think so,” Colin said. “You have to keep a pretty close eye on him. He may end up in a stranger’s kitchen.”

  Nola crossed her arms in mock offense. “I’m a doctor, Colin. I’m perfectly capable of keeping an eye on a fellow human being.” Colin still looked hesitant.

  “Here.” Nola held her cell phone out to Colin. “Put your number in. I can call you if there are any problems.” Colin still looked unsure. “I’ll call if there are any issues. I promise,” Nola assured him.

  Colin didn’t look convinced. He was going to be a hard sell. Just like his sister. “Seriously,” Nola said, hand on hip. “Nothing bad is going to happen. I’ll be here the entire time and if I need you, I’ve got your number.”

  Colin finally took the phone from Nola, punched in his number and handed it back to her. “I owe you,” he said. To his dad he said, “See you in a little while. I won’t be long, I promise.”

  Henry and Nola watched Colin climb into the U-Haul. He waved out the window as he drove away. Once he was out of sight, Henry sat down on the porch swing and began to rock back and forth.

  “You look like her,” Henry said, peering at Nola. “Except for the glasses. She didn’t wear glasses.”

  “She got the good eyesight and I got the brains,” Nola said and sat down next to him, their shoulders touching. Henry laughed and then abruptly stopped.

  “It’s not nice to speak ill of the dead,” he said.

  “You already know I’m not the nice one,” Nola said and he chuckled again.

  They swung in silence. Their feet pushing off the porch floor and lifting in unison. The warm air sweeping across their skin.

  “So, Henry,” Nola finally said. “They found new evidence in my sister’s murder. Her boot. Wedged in between some rocks down in the caves.”

  “I didn’t know that,” Henry said, swinging a bit faster.

  “It’s been a long time since anyone has tried to find Eve’s killer.” Nola looked over at Henry. “I was beginning to think no one cared.”

  “I cared,” Henry said softly.

  “Then who do you think killed my sister?”

  “Don’t you think I would have arrested the guy if I could have?” Henry asked with irritation. Nola shrugged and Henry shook his head and planted both feet on the ground, bringing the swing to an abrupt stop. “I’m tired,” he said getting unsteadily to his feet.

  “I didn’t ask you why you didn’t arrest anyone,” Nola followed Henry as he shuffled through the front door. “I just asked you who you thought might have killed Eve.”

  Henry continued on to the kitchen. He opened the refrigerator and scanned the contents.

  “Come on, Henry. I’m curious,” Nola pressed. “Just give me the name of your top suspect. Then I’ll tell you what I think.”

  “I don’t want to talk about this!” Henry said, slamming the refrigerator door so hard that the contents rattled and the door popped open again.

  “Okay.” Nola crossed her arms. “You don’t want to play. I’ll go first.” She took a step toward Henry. “How about this scenario? It was your perfect little daughter, Maggie.” Henry looked at Nola in disbelief.

  “I want you to leave now. You need to leave,” Henry said, trying to step past her.

  “I can’t leave,” Nola said blocking his path. “I promised Colin I’d stay until he got back. Did you hear me, Henry? Maggie killed Eve. She bashed her head in and strangled her.” Her voice was calm, kind and didn’t match the awful things she was saying.

  “No,” Henry said, bumping past Nola, accidentally knocking a glass of lemonade off the kitchen counter that shattered as it hit the floor. He turned and with surprising speed made his way down the hallway and into his den. Nola stayed close behind him.

  “And you know what they were fighting over?” Nola asked. “A guy. Cam Harper to be specific. Your perfect little girl was banging the neighbor.”

  “Shut up!” Henry screamed. “You’re lying! Get out of my house!”

  “Eve found out and was going to tell and Maggie killed her.” Nola laid a hand on his arm and he shook it away. “I’m telling you this for your own good, Henry. Your daughter did a bad thing. She smashed Eve’s head against the ground over and over and over and then squeezed the life out of her.”

  “No!” Henry shouted and grabbed a picture frame from atop his desk and flung it toward Nola. His aim wide, it smashed against the wall behind her. She didn’t even flinch.

  “Come on, Henry,” Nola taunted. “We both know that Maggie is no angel. You saw the way she acted the night Eve died. You can’t tell me that it didn’t cross your mind that Maggie knew more than she was letting on.” Something flickered in Henry’s eyes. Something sheepish and guilty looking. Nola stepped over the broken glass to get a better look.

  “You knew,” Nola whispered in disbelief. “You knew Maggie was the one who killed Eve and you didn’t do anything about it. You protected her.”

  Henry shook his head. “No, no,” he said over and over again. “That’s not true.”

  But Nola knew the truth. None of the physical evidence pointed toward Maggie. Not one bit of DNA implicated Maggie because her father, the chief of police, was there to sweep it all away.

  MAGGIE KENNEDY-O’KEEFE

  Thursday, June 18, 2020

  I make the drive to the station in under twenty minutes. After I hung up on Nola I told Shaun that I had to get in to work, that I needed to follow up on some of
the tips that had been coming in about Eve’s case. Not entirely true, but I was going to review the files.

  As exhausted as I was last night, I couldn’t stop thinking that Nola was going to report me to the police. Though I believe that the chief and Dex would initially support me one hundred percent, they would be obligated to listen to Nola. And she’s persuasive. She would tell them about me and Cam Harper. My relationship with him would come to light, maybe my pregnancy. A few days after I killed Eve, I developed a high fever and chills. My dad took me to the doctor in Willow Creek and I broke down and told the doctor that I was pregnant and thought I lost the baby. He told me that I had.

  The doctor was kind and promised me that he wasn’t going to tell my father I was pregnant, that he couldn’t tell him. But the information was in my medical records and if an investigation into me was launched, there was a slim chance those records could be accessed and used against me. Would Shaun ever be able to look at me the same way again? I would lose everything.

  By the time I walk into the records room, I’m shaking with anger and fear. All of this goes back to Cam Harper and how he had gotten away with abusing me all those years ago. How he groomed me, impregnated me and somehow managed to keep me silent for so long. I still don’t want people to know about it and for that I’m ashamed. I want to be brave; I want to stand up and tell the world that Cam Harper was—is—a predator.

  I don’t think I can do that, but maybe I can do the next best thing. I pull a box off the shelf and fan the files out in front of me. Before, I had no reason to look closely at the notes and interviews that I was half-heartedly organizing except to see if there was anything within the folders that could implicate me. Now I have something else to look for. Something that I had seen earlier. Notes referencing an interview that Joyce Harper had done with the police back in 1995.

  I’m flicking through the pages when Francis pokes his head into the room. “Did you hear about this morning?” he asks.

  “No, what happened?” I ask distractedly. I know the interview transcript is somewhere in here.

  “It was a bloodbath,” Francis says with a laugh. “Nola Knox drilled Nick Brady right in the nose with her head. Blood everywhere. I couldn’t believe it.” I look up from the papers, my attention piqued.

  “She thought Brady was breaking into his own shop. Called us and when we went over there he nearly lost his mind.”

  I spin my hand in a circular motion to hurry him along.

  “Nola started accusing Brady of killing her sister and he got right in her face saying she was wrong. Nola tripped and cracked him right in the face. Man, I thought the guy was going to kill her.”

  “Then what happened?” I asked, my mind racing.

  “Then nothing.” Francis shrugs. “Nola apologized and Brady went inside his shop bleeding like a son of a bitch. And then we left.”

  “No one pressed charges?” I ask, closing my eyes.

  “Nope, but Brady looked like he was going to have a coronary.” Francis gives a shake of his head. “Nola Knox better not go within fifty feet of him anytime soon. I swear to God he wanted to kill her. What’s her deal anyway?” he asks.

  “I have no idea.” I play dumb. “Listen, Francis, I got a ton of work to do before this baby is born.”

  “Yeah, sorry,” Francis says, but hesitates, and I know he wants to bring something up but doesn’t quite know how to do it.

  “I’m still getting calls,” I admit before he asks. “We’re going to have to change our home number. I disabled my Facebook account.”

  “Want me to keep looking to see if I can find out where the posts originated?” Francis asks and I hate the sympathy I see in his eyes.

  “No thanks,” I say. “I think I know who started this all and I’m going to ignore it.” Francis looks like he wants to ask me who but he doesn’t dare.

  “Just let me know if you change your mind,” he says then leaves.

  I’m pretty sure it’s Nola who accused me of having an affair with a married man on Wrecked Nest. It’s the only thing that makes sense. It’s another way to keep me off balance, keep me in line. I’m not going to give her the satisfaction of letting her know it’s gotten to me. The fire is another story. Did I really think that Nola was capable of arson? Yeah, I did. Did she start the fire at my house? That I’m not sure about.

  I settle back into reviewing the files, but this time my fingers fly faster through the pages. Nola really plans on going through with this and I will do just about anything to keep my secret.

  A name catches my eye and I know I’ve found what I’m looking for. I read the interview and then flip through the pages until I find my dad’s interview with Cam. “Bingo,” I murmur.

  In Joyce’s interview she explained to Dex that she had been out Christmas shopping all afternoon and didn’t return home until around eight o’clock that evening, when she paid me and I went home. She went on to say that her husband had meetings that afternoon and was in his office in Willow Creek until about six and then had a work-related dinner with colleagues. He arrived home, according to Joyce, at 9:00 p.m.

  Cam Harper gave my dad just about the same story but added that he took a break to go for a run around 3:00 p.m. and returned to the office for a shower and more meetings. Except I know different. I don’t know where he was between 7:00 a.m. and 3:00 p.m. that day, but I know Cam wasn’t running between three and three forty-five because he was with me. That day Cam parked at the bottom of Ransom Road before coming up to the house. He was always very careful about not being seen at the house when I was there but was ready with the excuse that he was picking up his running gear.

  The medical examiner thought that Eve died between four and nine. And Cam Harper did not have an airtight alibi. Even if he went directly back to work after he was with me, it would take about thirty minutes to get to his office. Cam was supposed to have been in Willow Creek all day. In that small window, he had the opportunity to kill Eve. With one pull of the thread, his entire alibi would unravel.

  I shake the thought away.

  “Hey, how’s the investigation going?” I look up to find Dex Stroope standing in the doorway.

  “Slow but steady,” I say vaguely. “Verified a few things—have a few avenues I want to look more closely at.”

  “Good. Let me know if you need anything,” he says then notices the files spread out in front of me. “That the autopsy report?” I nod. “You really want to read that?” he asks. “Pretty grim stuff. I can give you the CliffsNotes version.”

  My spine stiffens. “Would you ask a male detective that?” I ask. As much as I like and respect Dex, he was pretty old-school.

  Dex raises his bushy white eyebrows at my tone. “I would ask that question to any cop whose best friend was the murder victim.”

  “I can handle it,” I assert.

  “I have no doubt,” he says dryly. “What’s your gut telling you?”

  “Who do I think killed Eve?” I ask. “I’m trying to reserve judgment. How about you?”

  “I have my suspicions,” Dex says. “Finish your investigation and we’ll compare notes.”

  Though I’m dying to know who Dex suspects, I let it go. “Fair enough,” I say. “Hey, Dex,” I call before he goes on his way, “I’m not judging, but the files in Eve’s case are pretty jumbled. That wasn’t like my dad.”

  “They didn’t always look like that. There was a time they were organized nice and neat, like everything else. Your dad spent a lot of time on Eve and a few years ago, he went back into the files and pulled everything apart. He said he wanted to look at it with fresh eyes. I think he was onto something but,” Dex’s eyes shift away from me uncomfortably, “he started having his health concerns.”

  “But he didn’t tell you what he found?” I ask.

  “No, but I got the sense he thought the killer was definitely someone who knew Ev
e.”

  “As is the case with most homicides,” I say. “That would be three-fourths the population of Grotto. Eve knew a lot of people.”

  “True,” Dex agrees. “Listen, I’ve gotta run...”

  “Hey, can I show you something really quick? It will just take a second.” I flip through the files until I find his interview with Nick Brady. “How solid was Nick’s alibi?”

  Dex reaches for the paper and brings it close to his face. He’s left his reading glasses back in his office. He peruses it for a few seconds. “Looked pretty airtight to me. With his friend Jamie Hutchcraft from after school until five. Jamie verified it. And then went to help his mother out at their shop until ten. She backed that up too. Why? You think Brady killed her? We checked him out pretty carefully.”

  “No,” I say, taking the paper from him. “I’m not saying that at all. Just trying to be thorough.”

  “Hopefully the DNA testing will clear things up and we can put this one to bed,” Dex says. “Let me know if you want to talk more. I’m always around.”

  Dex leaves and fear blooms in my chest. Eve’s boot and all of the other items from her case are still locked away in the evidence room. I could pack up all the evidence now and send it off to the state lab. The chief expected it to be done already, but still it sits. You had one job, I say to myself. There’s only one person that the forensics can be tied back to. Me. I should just go to the chief and turn myself in. In the long run it would be easier.

  Nola’s words keep nagging at me. I can help you. I want to help you. All you need to do is slip a little bit of his DNA into the evidence, reseal it, send it in and we wait for the results.

  And Nola had really done it. She had gotten a DNA sample from Nick and she expects me to do the rest.

  * * *

  I swing by the café and pick up three club sandwiches and some macaroni salad and drive to my dad’s house. I try to stop by there for lunch a few times a week. My first instinct is to avoid my dad and Colin. I feel like all they have to do is take one look at me and they’ll see right through me. See that something’s wrong. But I have to do my best to keep up appearances, to keep things as normal as possible.