BooksBarbecue
Back One White Lie
Chapters (59)
  1. COVER
  2. About the Author
  3. DEDICATION
  4. ONE
  5. TWO
  6. THREE
  7. FOUR
  8. FIVE
  9. SIX
  10. SEVEN
  11. EIGHT
  12. NINE
  13. TEN
  14. ELEVEN
  15. TWELVE
  16. THIRTEEN
  17. FOURTEEN
  18. FIFTEEN
  19. SIXTEEN
  20. SEVENTEEN
  21. EIGHTEEN
  22. NINETEEN
  23. TWENTY
  24. TWENTY-ONE
  25. TWENTY-TWO
  26. TWENTY-THREE
  27. TWENTY-FOUR
  28. TWENTY-FIVE
  29. TWENTY-SIX
  30. TWENTY-SEVEN
  31. TWENTY-EIGHT
  32. TWENTY-NINE
  33. THIRTY
  34. THIRTY-ONE
  35. THIRTY-TWO
  36. THIRTY-THREE
  37. THIRTY-FOUR
  38. THIRTY-FIVE
  39. THIRTY-SIX
  40. THIRTY-SEVEN
  41. THIRTY-EIGHT
  42. THIRTY-NINE
  43. FORTY
  44. FORTY-ONE
  45. FORTY-TWO
  46. FORTY-THREE
  47. FORTY-FOUR
  48. FORTY-FIVE
  49. FORTY-SIX
  50. FORTY-SEVEN
  51. FORTY-EIGHT
  52. FORTY-NINE
  53. FIFTY
  54. FIFTY-ONE
  55. FIFTY-TWO
  56. FIFTY-THREE
  57. FIFTY-FOUR
  58. Acknowledgments
  59. THIS IS JUST THE BEGINNING

I screamed one more time as the bottle connected with the side of my face. The pain exploded instantly, radiating down, and immediately, I struck again.

Exactly where I’d been struck before.

Penguin walking logo

FORTY-EIGHT

I shivered, pulling on a thicker sweater as I looked out the window.

It was snowing – fifth day in a row – nearly a foot accumulated now. Much more, and I’d need to dig out my car. It was almost three. I’d told Rachel I’d come over this afternoon, but I wanted to go by the real estate office, drop off my rent, buy myself another month of indecision until I could make the right move, decide where to go next.

It had been a week since Vera died. One week that had passed in a blur of grief and heartache and procedure. And snow. Lots and lots of snow.

I’d called 911 as soon as I’d beaten myself up. The ambulance had come for her quickly, and, not long after, McKnight. He’d taken me immediately to the station, where I’d made a full statement and answered every question they had. Calm as I could bear, I told him about the discovery that Vera had a spare key to my house. That I believed it may have been her who put that note in my house, trying to point me toward Sam Alby. I explained, lying as little as I could, that I’d been visiting Vera when I discovered the seven-figure insurance policy. I became alarmed, knocking over a half-full wine bottle and a glass in the process. As I was cleaning it up, I’d spotted the package with my things in it: my knife, covered in blood, wrapped in my scarf. Vera walked in then, realized I knew, and attacked me, grabbing the bottle and socking me across the face with it. I hit her back, attempting to push her off me, and she fell backward, her head smashing into the tile, a shard of glass in her neck. Self-defense.

Then, in an attempt to get him to really believe me, I finally told him about our plan. That John had wanted to disappear, and Vera had asked for my help. That that’s why I’d told him I’d seen John fall. I was only trying to help my new friends get out of trouble. I never once thought that the entire time, Vera was working to frame me. I explained to McKnight that the murder weapon was one of my knives, one I’d noticed missing days before and had even texted Vera about. I told him that, without a doubt, my DNA and prints would be on it, but swore up and down I’d never seen it covered in blood until it tumbled out of my mother’s scarf.