Chapters (97)
- Cover
- Back Cover Text
- Praise
- Booklist
- Dedication
- Epigraph
- One
- Two
- Three
- Four
- Five
- Six
- Seven
- Eight
- Nine
- Ten
- Eleven
- Twelve
- Thirteen
- Fourteen
- Fifteen
- Sixteen
- Seventeen
- Eighteen
- Nineteen
- Twenty
- Twenty-One
- Twenty-Two
- Twenty-Three
- Twenty-Four
- Twenty-Five
- Twenty-Six
- Twenty-Seven
- Twenty-Eight
- Twenty-Nine
- Thirty
- Thirty-One
- Thirty-Two
- Thirty-Three
- Thirty-Four
- Thirty-Five
- Thirty-Six
- Thirty-Seven
- Thirty-Eight
- Thirty-Nine
- Forty
- Forty-One
- Forty-Two
- Forty-Three
- Forty-Four
- Forty-Five
- Forty-Six
- Forty-Seven
- Forty-Eight
- Forty-Nine
- Fifty
- Fifty-One
- Fifty-Two
- Fifty-Three
- Fifty-Four
- Fifty-Five
- Fifty-Six
- Fifty-Seven
- Fifty-Eight
- Fifty-Nine
- Sixty
- Sixty-One
- Sixty-Two
- Sixty-Three
- Sixty-Four
- Sixty-Five
- Sixty-Six
- Sixty-Seven
- Sixty-Eight
- Sixty-Nine
- Seventy
- Seventy-One
- Seventy-Two
- Seventy-Three
- Seventy-Four
- Seventy-Five
- Seventy-Six
- Seventy-Seven
- Seventy-Eight
- Seventy-Nine
- Eighty
- Eighty-One
- Eighty-Two
- Eighty-Three
- Eighty-Four
- Eighty-Five
- Eighty-Six
- Eighty-Seven
- Eighty-Eight
- Eighty-Nine
- Acknowledgments & A Personal Note
- Excerpt
With her partner, Tug, behind her, Kayla headed upstairs to her dad and Emma’s bedroom and the walk-in closet. For a long silent moment she stared at Emma’s storage trunk sitting on the hardwood floor atop the area rug Kayla’s mom got in Arizona.
Could be something to do with that trunk.
Kayla knelt before it, pushed her thumbs against the latches, opened it, inhaled the cedar air and took stock of the contents, the boots, the hats, blankets and coats. Carefully she removed everything and searched every item. Finding nothing, she ran her fingers along the empty trunk’s walls, the bottom, the lid, the lining, feeling for hidden compartments.
Nothing.
She looked at Tug, who sat nearby watching.
She replaced all the trunk’s items to their original places.
Kayla closed the lid, then stood. When she took a step to leave, the floor creaked.
She halted.
Then she repeated the step, her eyes going to a seam between the hardwood panels. One of them was loose and lifted a fraction of an inch near the rug’s edge. Kayla repeated the action, watching the loose board.
She gripped the rug and slid the trunk aside, then, using her heel, pressed down on one end, forcing it to lift. When she crouched, she was able to get a fingernail, then a fingertip, then her fingers, under its edge. She raised the loose panel, removing it from the floor, revealing a deep gap. Reaching into her pocket, she got her phone, switched on the flashlight, raked the beam over the space, then stopped.
What’s this? A book of some kind?
Reaching for it, she saw it was bound with a thick rubber band.
She removed the band, opened the book, fanned its handwritten pages. She went to the first page. It was dated the day after Dad had married Emma. Kayla began reading.
Started a new, wonderful life. Finally and truly, I buried my past. This new journal will be the last of many I’ve kept in my life. It will stand as testament after I’m gone.
No one knows the truth about me, that I—
Tug sat up and barked.
Kayla stopped breathing. She heard a door. Someone was home.
“Hello!” Emma called from the kitchen where Kayla had left her backpack. “Kayla, are you home?”
Her heart pounding, Kayla closed the book and stretched the rubber band over it. The band snapped, the pieces shooting off. She couldn’t find them and had no time to look. She replaced the book then the panel, gripped the rug, dragged the trunk back into place, hurried from the bedroom and trotted down the stairs.
Forty-Five
Winnipeg, Manitoba
2012
She participated in the murders of four people.
Yet the twenty-six-year-old woman in the dark blazer, white top and dark pants, her hair styled in a long bob with side-swept bangs, looked like a young lawyer.