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Back One White Lie Save as PDF
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

My heart began to race at the prospect of confrontation. I took a deep breath, but already the man was around the corner, out of sight.

He doesn’t matter, I told myself as I walked on. Besides, I wasn’t a weekender. I lived here now. This was my fresh start.

A couple of blocks more, and the crowd of people had thinned. Across the street, I saw Platform, the bar John had mentioned. It was, indeed, as quaint as he’d promised, painted bright red with a green metal roof.

Another half a block, and there it was: the JV Gallery.

I didn’t care if no one went there, like Al said, or if locals hated it. It still felt like a beacon, reminding me of them, of what Vera had said – you’re safe here, with us.

Through the floor-to-ceiling glass storefront, I gazed upon white walls, gleaming wooden floors, canvases, photographs, and sculptures. The sign read CLOSED.

I took a deep, calming breath. I was okay. It would all be okay. I had Vera and John, at least, and the next time I saw them, I’d have some story at the ready, explaining my bruise away. I would save face, and we’d have more wine, and everything would be fine.

I backed up. I should get home – I didn’t want my groceries to spoil.

But flecks of faded paint on the bottom of the windows captured my eye. I knelt to look closer. Most of the paint had been scratched off, but I could just barely make out the words.

My blood ran cold.

YOU FUCKING PERVERT

Penguin walking logo

EIGHT

I was still reassuring myself as I turned onto my street.

The graffiti was probably nothing – just kids, rebellious teenagers, someone playing a prank.

This town was my new start. Vera and John were the first friends I’d made. And I wasn’t going to let anything cast a shadow over that.

But as I approached my house, my chest seized up and my foot slammed on the brakes, bringing everything to a halt.

A car idled in front of my cottage.

My heart raced.

Was it Davis? Could he really have found me already?

Part of me wanted to gun it, drive far away and forget about everything – screw the money I’d just dropped at the office. Run. Again. Only I couldn’t. My life was in there, things I needed.

More important, Dusty was in there, too. Helpless and on his own.

I forced myself to lift my foot, to let the car inch slowly forward.

As I crawled, I scanned the vehicle for a Zipcar sticker, a Hertz plate cover, anything that would give it away as a rental, because Davis didn’t own a car. There was nothing. It was just a navy-blue Subaru with normal plates.

Please don’t be Davis please don’t be Davis.