This Is How I Lied

by Heather Gudenkauf

  I don’t think—I just act. In one fluid movement I rear back then surge forward, butting my head into Nola’s knees. I hear the snap of ligaments like elastic being stretched too far too fast. Nola falls backward, the scalpel flying from her hand and tumbling across the limestone and out of sight.

  Nola lands on her back, her head hitting the ground. I scramble to my knees. My first instinct is to go for my baby but I know there is power in light so I dive for the flashlight.

  I keep the light trained on Nola as she sits up, stunned. Disoriented, she blinks into the blinding light. The beam of the flashlight glints off the bloody scalpel lying on the ground. We both dive for it at the same time and by some miracle I get there first. I clutch it in my fingers and once again focus the light on Nola.

  I have the weapon but now Nola is sitting between me and my baby. With a sly smile Nola reaches for my baby and I lunge toward her, burying the blade in her shoulder. Nola screams and writhes on the floor as she tries to extract the scalpel, but her hands are covered in blood and the exposed end keeps slipping from her grasp. I scramble past her and sweep the baby up in my arms. Her shrill cries wrap themselves around me like a warm blanket.

  Frantically, I grab the flashlight with one hand, my baby in the other and scan the cave floor for my cell phone. It’s not there. I am naked from the waist down but I barely feel the sting of cold. I snag my pants from their spot next to the tarp and step into them. Feeling the weight of my car keys in the front pocket, I begin limping toward the cave’s opening.

  I hear the rasp of Nola pulling herself across the cave floor. “Come back, Maggie,” she calls out. “Don’t go, don’t leave me here.”

  I try to move faster but I’m weak and still losing blood. And I know that I’m not done yet. I still need to deliver the placenta and need to get help as soon as possible.

  When I step from the cave the sky explodes above me in a navy blue canopy and a thousand stars wink down on us. I want to drop the flashlight now that I can see what’s in front of me, but I don’t dare. It’s the only weapon I have left. I’m hoping that I injured Nola enough that she can’t come after us. In my stocking feet I move slowly but methodically through the trees, careful not to squeeze the baby too tightly. Her cries have turned to soft mewls and I worry that she might not be strong enough to survive the walk.

  Finally, my car comes into view, right where I left it on the service road, hidden behind a thicket of scrub trees. The contractions are starting again. The placenta is coming. “No, no,” I whimper, sure that Nola is right behind us. I lurch to the car and wrestle the keys from the pocket of my pants. I climb into the car and relock the doors. Holding the baby to my chest, I reach for my belt radio that I had taken off before I went to the caves.

  “This is Detective Maggie O’Keefe,” I say, my voice thick with exhaustion. “Please send help.”

  * * *

  I’m holding my baby, intently watching the rise and fall of her little chest when Nola staggers from the trees and toward my car. Panic squeezes at my chest and I lay the baby on the seat next to me and reach under my seat for my second gun. There is no way that I will let Nola get the upper hand again.

  I unlock the door and step from the car and the bull-like bellow of bullfrogs thrums in my ears, masking the rapid pounding of my heart. Nola is weaving unsteadily toward me. She managed to extract the scalpel from her shoulder but must have dropped it along the way. Her shoulder and arm are drenched in blood.

  “Stay where you are,” I order. “Don’t come any closer.” Nola briefly leans against a birch tree for support but then lurches forward, leaving a bloody handprint behind on the papery, white bark.

  “Goddammit, Nola! Don’t make me shoot you.” I almost wish she would keep coming so I could put a bullet between her eyes but she stops.

  “What would you have done?” Nola asks as the wail of approaching emergency vehicles fills the air. “You killed my sister. Eve was the only person who really ever cared about me.”

  “Get down on your knees,” I command. To my surprise she complies. “Keep your hands up,” I say.

  Nola stares at me with flat, dead eyes. “What would you have done, Maggie?” she asks again. “I miss her. I miss my sister.”

  The dark erupts in an explosion of sirens and pulsating lights as half a dozen police cars and an ambulance appear. Behind me is the sound of car doors opening and slamming. There is shouting and the slap of approaching footfalls. “I miss her too,” I whisper as Officers Francis and Weaver rush toward Nola, pull her arms behind her back and shove her head to the ground.

  SIX MONTHS LATER: MAGGIE KENNEDY-O’KEEFE

  Tuesday, January 5, 2021

  “Maggie, you’ll want to see this.” I look up from my desk to see Chief Digby standing there holding a manila envelope in his hand. Digby doesn’t need to tell me what the envelope holds. I know what’s inside: the forensic testing results on the evidence from Eve’s case. I’ve been waiting six months for this to show up on my doorstep.

  As he hands me the envelope, I examine Digby’s face for any clue as to what the results show but his expression gives nothing away.

  This afternoon Shaun and I are supposed to take Eleanora Eve, Ellie for short, for her six-month checkup over in Willow Creek. She’s doing great despite her eventful entry into the world. After the appointment we’re going to go to my dad’s house for a dinner to celebrate another big art sale for Colin. I hope I get there.

  I open the envelope and pull out the packet of papers and flip to the final page. One name jumps out at me. I look up at Digby who is grinning widely. “The boot was a gold mine. The DNA from the boot didn’t match anyone in the system but then the lab compared it to profiles on a genealogy site where his son had submitted DNA. Once we had that partial profile match we were able to get a sample of his DNA from a coffee cup he threw away. It’s a perfect match. They found his blood on the laces and inside of the boot. The lab even found more of his DNA from the initial evidence submitted. We got him.”

  I stare down at the name, my mind racing. Cam Harper. “Maggie, you okay?” Digby asks. “We did it. We solved Eve’s case. Do you want to do the honors and call Charlotte Knox and let her know we caught her daughter’s killer?”

  “No,” I say. “I think you should.”

  Digby nods with understanding and hands me the signed warrant for Cam’s arrest. “Take Francis with you,” he says. “Congratulations.”

  “Thanks,” I say numbly as he leaves. I set the document aside and open my bottom desk drawer. I reach inside and pull out another envelope, this one holding a syringe, a piece of glass and a cigarette butt. I toss them into my purse to throw away. I never used them. When I sat on that gravel road last summer trying to decide whether or not I would doctor the evidence, trying to decide who I would frame—Nick, Cam or Nola—I knew that the lies had to end.

  I was fully prepared to take the blame I deserved for killing Eve. I even considered turning myself in but then Nola ambushed me in the caves and I realized that I wanted whatever time I could get with my baby. I decided to let the forensic testing speak for itself. And now it had. Cam Harper had murdered Eve. He must have followed us to the caves and attacked her after both Nola and I had left.

  Eve was still alive when I left her there. I didn’t kill my best friend. Relief floods my body but is quickly replaced with a heavy sadness. What would have happened if Cam had caught both of us there? Would we both be dead? Or would we both still be alive?

  I think of Nola and the hatred she has harbored for me all these years. How it ate away at her from the inside out, how it made her crazy from grief. In the days after our encounter at the caves, the Grotto PD did a thorough search of Nola’s house and the bones I believed to be human were just that, except she bought them legally off some site called The Bone Garden. As for the hatbox and the tackle box in Nola’s house, they also held bones and
teeth but from a variety of different animals. Absolutely twisted and creepy but Nola wasn’t the mass murderer I believed her to be. No connection could be made between Nola and the arsons. The fires just stopped. As for the posting on Wrecked Nest, I never found out who did that either.

  Believe it or not, I went to bat for Nola. She did save Ellie—got her breathing after a full minute without drawing a breath. I owe her Ellie’s life. I got her charges reduced to simple assault and instead of sitting in jail she was sent to a mental health institute in Cherokee for a month. Once she was stabilized, I went to go see Nola. We talked for the better part of two hours.

  I apologized for what I did to Eve and told her that I forgave her for what she did to me. I thanked her for saving Ellie. I also told Nola that I would do everything possible to make Nick Brady pay for what he did to her. Though the statute of limitations has expired on her complaint, I’ve kept my promise. Guys like Nick don’t change their ways and with a little digging I found out that he had been knocking his new girlfriend around and I had the pleasure of arresting him. The publicity around Nick’s bad behavior was not good for Grotto Gifts and it closed down about a month ago.

  Nola still hates me but not in a homicidal way. Part of Nola’s sentence is a restraining order that says she must stay away from me and my family. Nola and her mother ended up selling the house and moving to the far end of the county. I keep close tabs on Nola and always will.

  “Ready to go?” Francis is at my door, enthusiasm for a big arrest radiating from him.

  I push back from my desk and grab my coat. “You drive,” I say.

  * * *

  “Park in front of my dad’s house,” I tell Francis as he pulls onto the street. I called Cam Harper’s law firm and was told by his administrative assistant that he wasn’t in for the day. Arresting him in the house where he victimized me will be quite satisfying.

  “Wait here for a sec,” I tell Francis as I step from the car.

  The January sky is forlorn and gray. The day is cold and blustery, not unlike the day Eve was murdered but I don’t feel the chill. I trot up my dad’s front steps and push open the front door.

  “Hey, Dad,” I say. He’s sitting in his favorite chair watching a morning talk show.

  “Maggie,” he says with surprise. “Do we have plans today?” He’s always surprised to see me. I’m just grateful he remembers my name today. Some days he doesn’t.

  Leanne steps out from the kitchen to say hello and then goes back to whatever she was doing.

  I sit on the ottoman in front of my dad’s chair and reach for his hands. They are warm and completely envelope mine. “Dad,” I say, my voice already shaking with emotion. “I know what you did for me.” His eyes are clear, alert. He knows exactly what I’m talking about. “I know you thought I was the one who killed Eve. I thought so too. I know you found Eve’s scarf and took care of it.”

  “Maggie,” he says with alarm, looking around in case someone can hear.

  “No, it’s okay, Dad.” I squeeze his fingers. “I wanted you to know that I didn’t do it. I didn’t kill Eve. I promise you. It was Cam Harper. We are going over to arrest him now.”

  “Cam Harper?” he says in disbelief and gets to his feet. “Why? How?”

  I stand too and wrap my arms around his neck and lay my head on his shoulder just like I did during our dad-daughter dance at my wedding. “I promise I’ll tell you, but right now, I just need you to know that I didn’t do it. I didn’t kill Eve.” I know that in a matter of minutes what I’ve told him will drift away like dandelion fluff. I say it again over and over again, I didn’t kill Eve, hoping that my words will imprint themselves on his soul so that somehow he’ll know. That he’ll never doubt me again.

  We stand like this for a long time until my dad pulls away and looks down at me. “Do we have plans today?” he asks.

  I kiss him on the forehead and tell him that I’ll see him later tonight for dinner and go back outside to where Francis is still waiting in the squad car.

  I rap on the window and say, “Let’s do this.” Together, we walk up to the Harpers’ front door. I pull the arrest warrant from my coat pocket while Francis rings the doorbell.

  Joyce Harper opens the door and looks from me to Francis, dressed in his uniform, in confusion. “Maggie? Is something going on? Did something happen?”

  “Is Mr. Harper here?” I ask ignoring her questions.

  “Yes, he’s upstairs. Did something happen?” Joyce asks fearfully.

  “Can you please go get him for us,” I say evenly though my pulse is racing.

  “Of course,” Joyce says, stepping aside to let us in.

  “Nice house,” Francis murmurs as Joyce disappears up the steps. Nice house, with dark secrets, I want to say but don’t. I know my relationship with Cam Harper will eventually come to light but I’m okay with it. I’ll finally be able to speak the words that I haven’t been able to. I’ll be able to say, This is how I lied, and now this is my truth.

  “Maggie?” Cam Harper asks cautiously as he comes down the steps. “What’s going on?”

  “Cameron Harper,” I say, steel in my voice, “you are under arrest for the murder of Eve Knox.”

  “What?” Joyce Harper says in disbelief.

  “You have the right to remain silent,” I say, watching Cam’s face, which has been leached of all color. “Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law.”

  “What are you doing, Maggie?” Joyce cries. She turns to Cam. “This is a mistake. Cam, tell them it’s a mistake!”

  “It’s a mistake, Joyce,” Cam says. “Don’t worry. Go call Jerry, tell him to meet me at the station.”

  I lock eyes with Joyce and in that brief moment there is a fissure in her devotion to her husband. I’ve seen it before. It won’t be today or even tomorrow, but eventually Joyce Harper will turn on her husband and she’ll cooperate with us.

  “Joyce, go call Jerry,” Cam snaps and Joyce scurries away.

  “You have the right to an attorney,” I continue. “If you cannot afford an attorney, one will be provided for you. Do you understand the rights I have just read to you?”

  “This is bullshit,” Cam says arrogantly. “No one will believe it.”

  “Do you understand the rights I have just read to you?” I repeat.

  “Yes,” Cam says bitterly as Francis pulls Cam’s hands behind his back and snaps a pair of handcuffs around his wrists.

  Francis leads Cam outside to the squad car. The cold air burns my eyes and I watch as Francis places Cam into the back seat. After he’s situated, I lean in and whisper into his ear. “You are finally going to get what you deserve. You’re going to pay for killing Eve and for what you did to me and to any other little girl you raped.”

  For the first time I see alarm in Cam’s eyes but he recovers quickly. “You don’t have any proof,” he says dismissively. “I’ll be back home in a few hours.”

  “We have the proof,” I tell Cam and the fear returns. I can smell it on him. “DNA doesn’t lie.”

  * * *

  Hours later I’m sitting in Ellie’s bedroom. She’s asleep in my arms, her wispy hair still damp from her bath. I breathe in her powdery scent and watch her pink lips form a perfect O. I stroke her soft, plump cheek and a smile blooms. Her eyes flutter open and then close.

  After arresting Cam and after Ellie’s doctor appointment I finally sat down with Shaun and told him everything. I told him about my argument with Eve at the caves and about Cam Harper and the baby. I was expecting him to grab Ellie and run. He was shocked and then enraged but not at me. At Cam.

  Shaun held me tight as I cried and told me that it was going to be okay, that he wished I had told him about everything sooner. I wish I had too.

  I slowly rise and carry Ellie over to her crib, kiss her cheek and gently lay her down. Her little fists
wave until, with a contented sigh, her thumb finds her mouth. For the first time in a very long time, I know I will sleep through the night. Though I know there are murderers and thieves and monsters out there, tonight I will go to bed knowing that I’m not a killer and that a killer and a predator is behind bars. Cam Harper won’t be able to hurt anyone else.

  I feel Shaun come up behind me and together we look down at Ellie and I think of Eve. “Sleep well,” I whisper. “Sleep well.”

  * * *

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  The long road from initial idea to publication is a long one and I couldn’t do it without the help of many.

  Thank you Mark Dalsing, Amy Gilligan, Jennifer Hosch, Christine Fortin, and Emily Gudenkauf for your time and expertise.

  Special thanks to early readers Jane Augspurger, Amy Feld, and Emily Alexander—your input and assistance was priceless.

  Thank you to my editor, Erika Imranyi, for believing in me during the times when I doubted myself. Her perspective and suggestions are always right on and help me be a better storyteller. Thank you, Partner.

  My agent, Marianne Merola, not only supports me as a writer, but as a friend. I’m so thankful for her encouragement and guidance on this journey.

  Kate Studer’s keen eye and suggestions were invaluable as we brought the book into the final stretch. Thank you!

  Much gratitude goes to my publicist, Emer Flounders, for championing my work behind the scenes, and to all the folks at HarperCollins, Harlequin and Park Row who get my books into the hands of readers.

  A special shout-out to my childhood friends: Lenora Vinckier, Sara Anderson, Laureen Retzer, and Carrie Pederson. Our laughter-filled weekend together reinvigorated me and reminded me of the importance of keeping in touch with those who helped me become who I am. Thank you.