The Liar's Wife

by Kiersten Modglin

  The Liar’s Wife

  Kiersten Modglin

  Copyright © 2020 by Kiersten Modglin

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to locales, events, business establishments, or actual persons—living or dead—is entirely coincidental.

  www.kierstenmodglinauthor.com

  Cover Design: Tadpole Designs

  Editing: Three Owls Editing

  Proofreading: My Brother’s Editor

  Formatting: Tadpole Designs

  First Print Edition: 2020

  First Electronic Edition: 2020

  To my aunts, Lori and Velma, for cheering me on with each book and always asking about the next.

  “Just because something isn't a lie does not mean that it isn't deceptive. A liar knows that he is a liar, but one who speaks mere portions of truth in order to deceive is a craftsman of destruction.”

  Criss Jami

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Don’t miss the next Kiersten Modglin release!

  Enjoyed The Liar’s Wife?

  Acknowledgments

  About the Author

  Also by Kiersten Modglin

  Chapter One

  When my eyes opened, there was only darkness. Darkness like I’d never seen before, with not a hint of light anywhere. A clump of something heavy and moist sat in my mouth.

  Panic.

  What was happening?

  Ice-cold fear flooded through my veins at lightning speed.

  Where was I? What had happened? I tried to sit up, tried to shove myself free, but I couldn’t move. I was frozen in place, kept there by some invisible force. It was heavy and thick, a texture I didn’t recognize at first. I’d been placed inside of something. Under something. I couldn’t tell.

  I inhaled, and the thick clump moved further down my throat. I couldn’t breathe. My body flailed and convulsed, trying to free itself as my mind went to a flash of bright light.

  Was I going to die right then and there? In some unrecognizable place? Alone and cold? There didn’t seem to be any other options.

  I panicked, trying to cough and struggle against the force holding me down. What is happening? What is happening? What is happening? I fought through the cobwebs of my nightmare-filled memory.

  Finally, my hand wriggled free, moving through something thick and unrelenting to touch my face. At first it didn’t register what was happening. Where I was. How I’d gotten there. What I needed to do. Then, all at once, realization slammed into my chest. I realized where I was and what was happening. I knew who had put me there.

  I knew I was going to die.

  With as much force as I could muster, I shoved my hands upward, roaring through the mud in my mouth and throat. I fought through a thick layer of the moist, wet earth, and then my hands were free. Like a zombie from the grave, my hands tore through the earth to reach the fresh air above. Was my assailant still there?

  I didn’t care. Couldn’t. I was free. I felt the cool night air on my skin as I pushed myself to sit up, coughing and spewing mucus-covered soil from my mouth.

  I looked around me at the fresh dirt that was meant to be my grave. The night air was cool, and there were no stars in the sky. No light to be seen, and yet, still somehow the air was lighter than being underground. I stood up, dusting myself off. The dirt was caked into my teeth, my nails, my clothes, my hair. I was walking proof monsters existed. If I came upon me in the woods, I’d run.

  I spit again, trying to free my mouth of the sour, bloody taste of the dirt, and brush the mud from my hair. Where was I? Which direction should I go?

  I had no idea. No idea about any of it. No idea how I got there or where there was. I reached up and touched my scalp, then jerked my hand back in agonizing pain. When I pulled my hand away, warm, sticky blood coated my palm. Though I couldn’t see it clearly in the darkness, I knew what it was. I put my fingers to my scalp again, feeling the open wound just above my temple. A piece of skin hung over, so loose I could’ve pulled it off if it didn’t sting so badly.

  I tried to take a step forward, but pain tore through my body, my nerves on high alert. What happened to me?

  I ran my hands along my body, down my thigh, and realized it was just as painful, just as wet with blood, but from a different wound. I hobbled forward, brushing dirt from my eyes and mouth with every painful step. It hurt. It all burned and throbbed and ached. Every part of me. I couldn’t seem to remember anything, my mind a dark, foggy mess of fuzzy memories. What was real and what wasn’t? What had I done? What had led me to an early, yet ultimately ineffective grave?

  Who tried to kill me?

  The last thing I remembered was…her. I remembered the fight. I remembered learning about her. I remembered confronting her. Remembered it all coming together for me at once. I remembered the pain.

  Pain.

  Physical and emotional. All of it. At the thought, lightning-sharp pain shot through me, and I hobbled and cried and gasped for air as my lungs worked to free the mud from my sticky throat. I bent over, my body rigid with pain and trepidation as I coughed then winced, coughed then winced.

  I tasted blood then, and I wondered if it was coming from my head or somewhere else entirely. How else had I been hurt? What had I been through? It was coming back to me slowly, as if I were scraping mud from the memories right along with the rest of my body.

  The forest was dense with trees, so thick and so dark, they were all I could make out in the distance. Trees, branches, shadows. The woods were quiet all around me, but as I made it a bit farther, I saw the first sign of light. The moon lit up the night sky above me, giving me glimpses of the forest around me.

  The trees were thick, the earth foggy, and my head painful. So, so much pain. I couldn’t think straight, couldn’t move. I should’ve looked over the gravesite closer for an explanation as to how I got there, but I had no way to see it and no desire to go back. Whoever put me there obviously believed I was dead, and I knew who it was. Her.

  She’d had enough of me getting in her way and decided to end it, but she wasn’t going to do away with me so easily. I wasn’t going down without a fight.

  I saw the road then, up ahead, and I forced myself forward. Each step was agonizing, each breath like a scalding dagger to the stomach. I stepped down into the ditch and out of the woods, and then back up the embankment and toward the road. I must look like a nightmare; who would ever stop for me?

  To my surprise, someone did. The dark truck
pulled to a stop next to me, and the man in the driver’s seat leaned over as he rolled the window down, taking in my appearance. He was old, haggard, worn. The truck smelled of cigarettes and chewing tobacco.

  “Do you need some help?” he asked. Question of the century. I obviously had a genius on my hands.

  “Yes. Please.”

  He reached over further, pushing the door open. He wasn’t afraid of me. Even bloody and covered in dirt, I didn’t appear to be a threat. It must be why I went down so easily. But I felt like I’d been reborn, and I wouldn’t be so easy to take down the next time.

  I was coming for what was mine.

  I climbed into the truck, the pain of each movement unrelenting. It hurt. It all just…hurt.

  He pulled out a cell phone. “Do you want me to call an ambulance? The police?” He swallowed as he stared at me, apparently more afraid now.

  “Thank you, but I’ll be okay. Can you just take me home?” I asked. My voice was gravelly and unfamiliar. How long had it been since I used it?

  I would be okay, just as soon as I ended this once and for all. I couldn’t do that if the police were involved.

  He nodded, his hands shaking as he moved to put the car into drive. “What happened to you?”

  I didn’t answer him because I didn’t know. I stared out the window, my body roaring with agony, and all I could think of was how I let myself get here. How I let her ruin my life.

  Chapter Two

  TWO AND A HALF WEEKS EARLIER

  “Careful,” I warned in a whisper as Ben pushed open the door to our home.

  He nodded at me, a smile growing on his face as he continued forward, careful not to bump the car seat and its precious cargo as we stepped across the threshold. I was sore in so many ways, the scar on my lower stomach still ached like it might split open whenever I coughed or laughed or sneezed, but I ached in a different way, too…for the baby just a few feet away from me. I hated being separated from him for any length of time. I’d never thought I could be so attached to anyone.

  He rested the car seat on the coffee table, setting the brand new diaper bag beside it. Inside the seat, Gray was still sleeping peacefully. He didn’t know that when he opened his eyes, the world he thought he knew, the one that consisted only of the small three-hundred-square-foot hospital room, would be so much bigger and more different than he could’ve imagined. The only thing familiar now would be the two of us. The two people who loved him most in the world.

  Ben held out a hand. “Want me to take that?” He gestured toward the overnight bag thrown over my shoulder. I handed it to him, thankful for the relief from carrying it. Even though it wasn’t nearly over the ten-pound weight limit my doctor had recommended, every ounce of added strain on my muscles was torture. “Leave the pain medicine out on the counter,” I reminded him as he made his way into the kitchen. He nodded and began searching the bag, leaving Gray and me alone.

  I eased down on the couch, clenching my pelvis as I felt a gush of blood. Don’t leak, don’t leak, don’t leak. I stood back up, pulling one of the disposable bed pads the nurse gave me from the diaper bag and laying it down on the edge of the couch. I sank back down, thankful for the extra protection, then looked over at my son.

  The word still felt foreign to me.

  Son.

  I had a son.

  I was a mom.

  How strange…and yet, how wonderful. I reached my hand forward, pressing a finger to one of his tiny feet. I needed to touch him as much as I needed to breathe. It was instinctual. I wondered how mad Ben would be if I took him from the car seat. It was sure to wake him up, but I just wanted him close to me. Closer than he already was. I teared up at the mere thought of him, damn baby blues. Ben was busy with the bag, not paying attention as I moved toward our son.

  I unbuckled him, lifting his tiny hands away from the straps one at a time as I removed them. He stirred, his little lips opening, and a tiny mitten-clad fist moved to rub his eyes.

  “Hey there, Gray baby,” I whispered, lifting him from the seat and resting him on my chest. I leaned back on the couch, heaving a sigh of relief as his breathing seemed to slow mine. Just two days ago, he was still a part of me. Still inside my body. How was it possible he was on his own already? That I was back on mine?

  “Did he wake up?” Ben asked, zipping back across the room as Gray let out a soft coo.

  “No, he’s back asleep,” I told him quietly, feeling my breasts swelling with milk as his body heat warmed my skin. “I just wanted to hold him.”

  Ben lifted the seat and placed it on the floor, coming to sit down beside me. His finger traced Gray’s cheek. “He’s incredible,” he whispered, and I felt tears collecting in my eyes again.

  “I don’t ever want to let him go.”

  He put a hand on my back, graciously ignoring my tears as he’d had to for the past two days. No one told me being a new mom would turn me into a crier.

  He slid his hand up my back, gripping my shoulder lovingly. “Do you want to get some rest? The doctor said you should sleep while he does.”

  Even though I hadn’t slept much at all over the past two days, I didn’t feel the least bit tired. I didn’t want to put Gray down, but when I shook my head, he began to stir, negating the offer. His head lifted and bobbed away from my chest as he searched for a food source.

  I scooted back on the couch, placing the pillow under my arm and obliging. “There you go, Gray baby,” I whispered, my voice low and soothing, though I was in pain again. My stomach cramped, and I felt a new gush of blood between my legs as he suckled at my breast. Ben stood at once, grabbing his Boppy pillow and wrapping it around my waist. He bent down, pulling my shoes from my feet and moving the coffee table toward me so my feet could rest there. He walked back across the room and into the kitchen, and returned a moment later with a glass of water, one slice of lemon in it.

  “Here you go.” He placed the straw next to my mouth and I took a sip, then he reached across me, careful of Gray’s head, and put the glass on my table.

  “Thank you, baby,” I said, my eyes already trained on my son once again.

  “Well, what do you think? You want to keep him?” Ben joked, wrapping an arm around me to peer down at him.

  I wrinkled my nose. “He’s absolutely perfect, Ben,” I said, cuddling Gray closer to me as his eyes rolled back with delight, white milk bubbles forming at the corner of his mouth. My eyes felt heavy suddenly, as if I could’ve fallen asleep at any moment, and I wondered how I’d felt so awake just moments before.

  As Gray fell away from my chest, I felt Ben reach for him. He kissed my cheek as he took the baby from my arms. I smiled at him, my body burning warm and light with sleep as he pulled the blanket from the back of the couch with one arm and used it to cover me.

  “I’m so tired,” I whispered, though he must’ve known it.

  “I know, baby. Go to sleep. Daddy’ll take over for a while.” He cuddled Gray into his chest, bouncing him softly.

  “He’ll need to be burped,” I reminded him as I stifled a yawn.

  Ben began patting his back, whispering softly in his ear as Gray fussed.

  “It’s okay, little guy. Daddy’s here.” He winked at me as I closed my eyes a final time. Everything in me wanted to be awake, be present to see all the changes, every moment that I knew I’d miss while I slept, but I couldn’t. I couldn’t fight sleep for a second longer.

  Darkness found me, and I drifted off to sleep to the sound of Ben humming a song I couldn’t recall the name of.

  Chapter Three

  I rocked Gray carefully, humming in his ear long past the time he’d fallen asleep. I couldn’t get over how much I loved feeling his little chest rise and fall against mine.

  I could’ve lain there all day. No place to go. Nothing to do. I could’ve lain still and held my child until he outgrew my arms. I glanced at the clock as a familiar dull ache grew in my lower stomach. It was past the time for me to take my medicine, but Ben had be
en in the bathroom for quite a while.

  I sat still, trying to think of something else. He’d be out soon. I could wait. When a second wave of achiness came on a few minutes later, I winced, shifting my weight carefully. I lifted Gray away from me and laid him down, careful to keep his face away from the back of the couch. I patted his tummy as he tightened his arms and legs, aware of my absence, but quickly calmed down.

  I grasped my own stomach as I moved to stand, putting pressure on my scar to keep the pain at bay. I moved slowly across the apartment, every move met with a bolt of pain. When I reached the counter, I picked up the bottle and twisted it open, taking my pill without water.

  I couldn’t hear the shower still running from the bathroom. What is he up to? “Ben?” I whisper-yelled, praying I wouldn’t need to walk that far. The nurses had told me not to miss a dose; it was harder to get back out of pain once you were in it, and better to stay on top of it. Until that moment, we’d been incredibly diligent with my regimen.

  When he didn’t answer, I sucked in a shallow breath and pushed off from the counter, easing my way down the hall, my hands on both sides to keep me from falling.

  I made it to the bedroom door and pushed it open carefully. His back was to the door, already fully dressed, though his hair was wet.

  “Aww, well, thank you,” he said, both hands cradling the phone.