“God, you still don’t get it.” I shake my head. “It’s a crime, people died. We’ll go to prison, not college. Do you want your grammy to know you lied? And what about your parents? Do you want them to know you helped start a fire that killed ten people and then lied to the sheriff about it?”
She scrunches her face. “Hannah, stop. Getting caught or not getting caught doesn’t change anything. We know what we did.”
“It changes everything!”
“I’ve made up my mind.”
Hot tears well in my eyes. “How can you send yourself and Drummer and all of us to prison? Luke’s lawyer might even get his charges dropped.”
“That’s not the point. It’s better to tell than get caught. Please take me home. I told you I don’t feel good.” She wipes the dust off her skirt, swaying on the rock that overlooks the water.
“We all have to agree,” I mutter.
“You mean we all have to agree with you. This is fucked up, Hannah. Mo called tonight and yelled at me, Luke begged me to keep quiet, and Drummer offered to take the blame for everyone, but none of you care what I want.”
I stand next to her. “I thought you wanted to go to Stanford? If you tell the police, they’ll charge us with felony reckless arson and probably murder. Your money might buy you a good lawyer, but you’ll never live down a murder charge, V. How are you the only one who doesn’t get that? And you can bet Stanford will rescind your acceptance.”
Violet arches a brow. “You forget how rich I am, Hannah. I don’t need college.”
“But I do,” I rasp, my breath coming faster. “Don’t be an asshole, V.”
“Why are you studying criminal justice if you don’t care about the law? Do you realize what a hypocrite you are?” Her body becomes stiff, and her face twists into an imitation of mine. She speaks robotically: “I’m Hannah. I want to fight crime like my dad and I don’t care how many laws I have to break to do it.” She laughs so hard she starts hiccupping.
My face turns to stone. My fists clench. My voice shifts and deepens. “Everything I’ve done has been to protect us.”
Violet sneers, her patience gone. “No, you’re protecting yourself.” She sees I’m upset and digs in deeper. “Maybe you monsters can live with the police breathing down your necks and ten murders on your heads, but I can’t.”
“You’re not better than us,” I sputter.
She slinks closer, her pent-up feelings finally breaking free. “I’m not coming back after this legal shit is over. I’m spending next summer in Europe. I’m done with you, and I’m done with Gap Mountain.”
Done with Gap Mountain? I blink at her, feel the heat bubbling in my gut. The pine trees blur. “What about Drummer? I know you two are together.”
She steps back, startled. “He told you?”
“No, he didn’t fucking tell me, it’s obvious. Plus, I heard your fight in the attic. I’m not his ‘back-burner’ girl.”
She inhales sharply. “You were spying on us?”
I ignore that. “If you loved him, you wouldn’t turn him in.”
Her brown eyes bore into mine as we circle each other on the plateau. Her words howl like a storm: “I do love him, and I know what’s best for him. He needs to come clean, and then he needs to get the fuck away from you.”
I can’t speak. My body goes rigid. Tears spill from my eyes.
“You’re obsessed, Hannah.”
“No!” I cry, drawing closer to her. “Drummer loves me. He’s already getting sick of you.”
I’m not sure this is true, but her furious expression is worth it. I can’t think, can’t see anything except Violet’s doll-like face: perfect long lashes, high cheekbones, dark dimples, and plump lips. She suddenly looks…unreal.
“Did you bring me here to yell at me?” she asks.
I step closer, my hands balling into fists. “Promise me you won’t tell and I’ll take you home.”
“It doesn’t work that way,” she says, crossing her arms. “Anyway, I made my decision.”
I grab her arm. “Think of someone besides yourself.”
She gasps. “I am! I’m thinking of that firefighter we killed. She had children, Han!”
I drag her closer, tower over her, my muscles quivering. She widens her eyes and begins to shrink. My tone is clipped; my words are stony. “You told the first lie, Violet. You started this.”
She stares up at me, her pupils getting rounder and darker. “Because I was high and stupid and because no one had died yet. Now the police are all over us, and Luke drove off a cliff, and Mo can’t afford college.” She stands on her tiptoes, and her lips twist into a cruel smile. “What you don’t understand, Hannah, is that I can do whatever the fuck I want!” She inhales. “And I want to tell.”
I gasp. I’ve never seen her so mean, so heartless.
She flashes her dimples in triumphant fury. “And you can’t stop me.”
It happens in an instant. I lift my hands and shove her so hard she flies backward.
Her eyelids flip wide. “Hannah!” Her arms slice the night air, pinwheeling in a perfect arc. She falls off the flat rock and into Gap Lake with a loud, echoing splash.
44
August 2
Days Violet has been missing: 0
Time: 10:40 p.m.
My breath catches as I lean over the edge and watch Violet thrash and sputter. She lifts a hand toward me. “Pull me out!”
I squat onto my heels. “No.”
“Hannah!” she shouts. “It’s cold.” She paddles hard and claws at the rock wall that edges the fathomless pit we call a lake. Her blue-polished nails chip against the stone. She resumes paddling, fighting against her heavy boots and waterlogged clothing.
I cross my arms. “Promise you won’t tell.”
Her face pales and her teeth begin to chatter. “That’s not fair. Help me out.” She lifts one hand again, instantly sinks, and then fights her way back to the surface. “Hannah, please. This isn’t funny.”
“You’re right, it’s not funny, it’s our fucking lives,” I rasp, thinking of the monsters. “You threatened us, V. You have to take it back.” Her legs kick; her breaths become labored. I imagine those expensive Gucci combat boots filling with water, becoming anchors. Violet will give in. She has to or she’s going to drown. “Promise me,” I repeat.
She shoots me a look of pure hatred and glances at the beach two hundred yards away. “Fuck you.” She swims toward it.
I release a breath. God, she’s stubborn.
Violet paddles, maybe twenty feet, before sinking again. She fights her way back to the surface, and her hands slap the water. She’s struggling but quiet. “Violet?” I call out.
She opens her mouth, but before she can speak, she sinks again. Her black hair waves like seaweed.
I watch, waiting for her to pop back up. She’s so dramatic.
A minute passes, or maybe it’s just seconds, I can’t be sure. “Violet?” I lean farther over the edge. “Hey, Violet!” Fuck! I yank off my shoes and dive in. The water hits my chest in a cold burst. I swim deep, eyes open, searching for her. There are no plants, no gentle slopes, just an inky darkness.
I kick deeper into the black water, reaching, hunting, until my lungs burn. Shit, shit, shit! I aim for the surface, take a huge gulp of air, and then dive back under. The chill seeps into my skin, and my heart slams my rib cage so hard it hurts. I swim until my ears clog and sharp pain rockets through my skull.
Then I see her in the depths, reaching for me, her arms like tentacles.
I kick harder until our fingers touch and our hands lock together. I try to swim, to pull her up, but Violet’s boots and clothes make her heavy and we shoot down together, sinking, falling, my lungs throbbing.
Her mouth opens in a silent scream. She claws at me like she’s trying to c
limb up my arm. Her fingernails dig into my skin. Panic floods me. We’re both going to drown.
No! I can’t!
I grab her fingers and pry them off my arm. Bubbles rise from her lips as we plummet toward the bottom of Gap Lake. One hard kick and I free myself from her grasp.
I’m sorry, I think as I paddle wildly toward the surface. A glimpse back shows me black hair waving, contorted lips, and terrified eyes, and then the darkness swallows her.
I dog paddle to the surface, coughing and spluttering. The cliff she couldn’t climb mocks me, because I can’t climb it either. I’m trapped, but unlike Violet, I’m not wearing combat boots or hoping someone will rescue me. I make the long swim to the beach and flop onto the rocky shoreline.
I lie on my side, my stomach heaving, my breath coming in ragged bursts. She’s gone—gorgeous, funny, brilliant Violet. God, she has two thousand more feet to fall before she hits bottom.
I flip over and stare at the moon, realize she’s never coming back. A keening sound erupts from my throat and morphs into a wail. An owl hoots and coyotes yip in the distance, a timeless eulogy.
I lie there, immobile, for a long time, my mind blank, my hair and clothes drying in the wind. After a while, I get up, retrieve her two phones, and toss them into the lake. After that, I find my shoes and drive home in a daze, taking the back roads.
At the house, I park in my driveway and sit in my Jeep, trembling and crying. Just as I decide to go inside, the bear that’s been nosing around my property rushes out of the woods and gallops toward me, its saliva dripping—sniffing beef stew and blood.
I run—the worst thing to do. It catches up and swipes me with a gigantic paw, throwing me against our side fence. I curl into a ball as its teeth pinch into my skull. I scream and scream for help. Then I hear Matilda’s ferocious bark. This is truly the last thing I remember.
45
September 14
Days Violet has been missing: 43
Time: 6:23 p.m.
Sunlight flickers across my eyelids as I remember where I am—at college, staring at my reflection in the library window. I glance around, notice a few kids watching me, curious. How long have I been standing here? I tuck my chin and stride across the grass as if I have somewhere to go.
There is some relief in understanding what it all means—the angry voices, the blood on white carpet, the hunched figure in the window—but there is no relief in understanding that it’s my fault. The boys didn’t kill Violet, I did. And I got my dog killed too.
I see Violet in my mind’s eye—her wet hair plastered to her head, her eyes round and frightened and angry, her voice—Hannah, please. This isn’t funny—and I wonder if I waited too long to save her on purpose. Am I a murderer, just like my mother? Tingles rush across my scalp. No—I didn’t, I wouldn’t—but I was so angry, so hurt. Violet said she was done with Gap Mountain, which meant she was done with me.
My throat tightens and tears blur my vision. Maybe I could forgive her for telling about the fire, and maybe I could forgive her for loving the same boy, but I’m not sure I could forgive her for abandoning me. I miss her, I do—but Violet was wrong. She’ll never be done with Gap Mountain.
Digging my nails into my palms, I think back to how it all started. How we five became best friends because no one wanted to play the human in a summer play. Perhaps that wildness—our attraction and relation to monsters—is the same wildness that tore us apart.
The only thing I know for sure is that when the news breaks that I hid Violet’s necklace, my friends are going to hate me. Drummer hurt her, true, but he didn’t kill her. Luke took her money, yes—and I understand why he was afraid of the police finding out about that—but I believe his story, that Violet gave it to him. And none of the monsters ratted on Violet about the wildfire. They loved her as much as I did. They tried to protect her. What will they do to me if they ever find out the truth? God.
I don’t know where I’m going, so I just walk. As I pass the student center, thinking hard about everything, I remember that I have an ethics paper due tomorrow. Ethics, shit—which side of the law am I truly on?
I reach for my phone, remember that the FBI agents confiscated it, and discover a piece of paper lodged in my back pocket. It flutters onto the concrete and I bend over, pick it up. It’s Special Agent Hatch’s business card. I study both sides. It’s not too late. I could call him, confess…
But I worked hard for this—to stay out of prison and start college, to survive—and I’m alive, still free. As I squint at Hatch’s card, I realize that if I tell the truth about Violet, no one will believe it wasn’t murder. Between her bloodstains in my Jeep, her scalp fragment on the unicorn I gave her, my car’s whereabouts that night, and the fact that I hid her necklace in my dead dog’s ashes—I can’t prove Violet’s death was an accident. Besides, the truth would have to include her involvement in the wildfire, and that would tarnish her image. No one wants that.
A surreal feeling washes over me. Birds chirp, leaves brush against the wind, and students pass like schools of fish, parting and re-forming around me. It’s a beautiful day in sunny San Diego, and I’m finally here, at college, studying criminal justice, just like I wanted.
I miss the monsters and our lazy summer days at the lake. Things were about to change between us, sure, but they hadn’t yet. The hours were golden and warm, dappled with laughter and soaked with hope. And then the five of us made a big fucking mistake.
I no longer hear the bikes and skateboards speeding past, the murmurs of conversation, and the laughter of my fellow students. My heart rate spikes, and my knees tremble. My future spans before me, beautiful and unknowable. I inhale and let my breath go.
I am the Gap, I realize. I am the swallower of secrets. I did my best to protect the monsters, just as I promised. I tried to protect Violet too. I warned her not to tell the truth, that it would do more harm than good, but she wouldn’t listen. We’re not criminals because we did something bad; we did something bad because we were reckless. It’s not the same.
I crumple up Hatch’s business card and throw it away. I believe in the law, I do, and it’s the law’s job to catch me. This is Hatch’s problem, not mine; I’m just a student. I vow right then that if I ever make it into the FBI, I’ll be a much better agent than Hatch. I sling my backpack over my shoulder and head to the dining hall.
In the end, Violet raised her hand. She decided to play the human. Walking across campus, I imagine her black hair waving, her graceful hands reaching, and I hope she sank all the way through the Gap and emerged into the mirrored world she envisioned on the other side, a world where we live opposite lives—where we tell the truth, where fires cannot burn, and where monsters do not exist.
A Note from the Author
Thank you for reading Lies Like Wildfire. While I wrote this story to entertain readers, it is inspired by my personal experiences with wildfire. The story is set in the fictional town of Gap Mountain near Yosemite National Park, but the real-life events occurred over two hundred miles away in Sonoma County, California.
My first experience with wildfire occurred on October 8, 2017. A tiny spark on private property grew into the Tubbs Fire, which roared over the foothills toward my community, gobbling everything in its path. It destroyed more than 5,500 structures, many of them private homes, and scorched over 36,000 acres. Powered by dry brush and winds reaching sixty miles per hour, the Tubbs Fire cost $100 million to suppress, caused $1.2 billion in damage, burned for 23 days, took 22 lives, and was, at the time, the most destructive wildfire in California history (the Camp Fire surpassed it the following year). This fire became quite personal to me due to the many close friends who lost their homes.
The idea for Lies Like Wildfire was born in 2019 while I was hiking through a county park near my house. I stopped at a lake, thinking it would be fun to write a thriller because I love reading them so m
uch. I imagined five teens enjoying a hot summer day by the lake and then doing something very, very bad—accidentally, of course. Instantly, I knew they would start a fire. There are few things more terrifying, out-of-control, or destructive than wildfire. Also, it’s a crime to start one, even accidentally.
When I returned from the hike, I began to write, and all the horror my community and I had experienced with the Tubbs Fire came alive on the page, but I realized I needed more detailed information. I contacted Matt Gustafson, the Sonoma County Fire District Deputy Chief. We met at a coffee shop, where I interviewed him about wildfire, arson, teen perpetrators, fire investigation, fire laws, fire suppression, Red Flag warnings, and his personal experiences with wildfire. I’m so grateful to Mr. Gustafson for his time and expertise! I added what I learned to the novel.
But I wasn’t finished. As you know, this book is about more than wildfire. After Violet went missing, I knew I needed to learn about police procedure and investigations. I contacted Lessa Vivian, an investigator for the San Francisco District Attorney’s office. She was also incredibly generous with her time and expertise and thoroughly answered all my questions. I added that information to the novel as well.
Wherever I got things wrong regarding the wildfire or the police/FBI investigation, I either took creative liberties or just plain misunderstood. All mistakes are mine.
Once the novel was completed, I emailed a draft to my literary agent, Elizabeth Bewley of Sterling Lord Literistic. Not long after I hit send, Nixle alerts began pinging on my phone as another massive wildfire started on October 23, 2019: the Kincade Fire. This time, my home was in its direct path.
While my agent was reading Lies Like Wildfire, I loaded my horses, pets, and family into trailers and cars and evacuated. CAL FIRE’s computer modeling predicted that my house and town would be destroyed, and our mayor was told to prepare to lose the community. Almost 200,000 people across multiple towns were asked to flee, and 90,000 structures were in danger. Wind gusts hit 93 miles per hour and the fire burned for 13 days. It was the biggest wildfire ever to hit Sonoma County and burned over 77,000 acres.
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