This Is How I Lied Read online

  But in the dark, quiet minutes before I drifted off to sleep, I’ve always known the truth, known what I was: a killer. For one brief moment, I feel something new. Relief. My secret is finally not mine alone.

  Finally, my heart rate steadies and I release the doorknob and turn back to the stairway. Every word that Nola said was true. She repeated, verbatim, the fight that Eve and I had the afternoon she died. Nola had to be there, at the caves. Watching. Listening.

  I should just leave, ignore Nola. I put my foot on the first step. Nola was there when Eve confronted me about Cam Harper.

  But no one would believe her over me. I’m a respected police officer. Another step. Nola was there when I begged Eve not to tell anyone. She was there when I told Eve that I loved Cam and I was pregnant with his child.

  My medical records are private. There is no way anyone could know I was pregnant. And even if they did, there was no way for anyone to know that Cam was the father.

  I take another step upward. Nola was there when I knocked Eve to the ground, the two of us in a twisted heap. She was there when Eve kicked out at me, striking me over and over again with her foot until something inside me broke free. In that moment I knew my relationship with Cam was over and a caustic rage coursed through my veins and I wanted Eve dead. My best friend. Nola was there when I hit her and pulled tight on her scarf until she stopped fighting back.

  I honestly didn’t believe I had killed Eve. When I fled the cave, I swear she was still breathing. Hurt, yes, but still alive. At least I thought she was. I lurched back to the Harpers’ and found the twins right where I left them, in front of the television watching Nickelodeon. They didn’t even know I was gone. I stripped off my bloody clothes and showered. I pulled a shirt and a pair of pants from the back of Joyce Harper’s closet and threw my clothes in the washing machine. I prayed the Harpers wouldn’t come home early.

  I tried to pretend everything was normal and must have done a pretty good job because Joyce gave me a five-dollar tip. When Nola’s mother asked us to go look for Eve I thought we would find her at Nick’s or maybe even at the caves. Angry and pissed off, but not dead.

  Why had Nola kept the secret for all these years? Why hadn’t she gone to the police, reported what she had witnessed? How could anyone stand by and watch their sister getting murdered and do nothing? The thing is, Nola isn’t just anyone.

  I reach the landing and place a protective hand across my midsection. Nola is crazy and devious and smart but I have one thing going for me that she does not. I’m a mother. I will do absolutely anything to protect the baby I’m carrying now. I will go back inside that bedroom and listen to what she has to say, get more information, but I will not let Nola get to me. I brush away the last of my tears and step back into Eve’s room. For a long time, I tried to get inside Eve’s room to search for the note from Cam but Charlotte didn’t like having Eve’s friends visit. It upset her. It took years, but I finally relaxed. If the origami note hadn’t been found by then I figured it never would. And even if it was discovered no one could connect it to me. I shouldn’t have let my guard down.

  Nola is sitting on the edge of Eve’s bed waiting for me. Of course she knew I’d come back. “Smart girl,” Nola says.

  “Nola, you have to believe that I didn’t mean to hurt Eve. We argued, yes, but I didn’t think I truly hurt her. I expected her to come out of the cave right behind me,” I try to explain. Nola stares at me curiously. I think she’s enjoying this. “Even when she didn’t come out,” I go on, desperate to make Nola understand, “I wasn’t worried. For a long time after we found Eve’s body, I didn’t believe that I had killed her. I thought she must have fallen, hit her head, something. Please, Nola, you have to believe me.”

  “Don’t look so worried, Maggie.” Nola pats the spot next to her inviting me to sit down. I stay in the doorway. “I can help you. I want to help you.”

  I stay silent, willing my hands to stop shaking. How in the world could Nola help me? Why would she want to?

  “Nick Brady,” Nola says almost triumphantly. Seeing the confusion on my face she continues. “It makes the most sense. It’s always the boyfriend.” She leans in conspiratorially. “All you need to do is slip a little bit of his DNA into the evidence, reseal it, send it in and we wait for the results.”

  I shake my head vigorously. “I don’t understand. Why would you want to blame Nick for something you say I did?”

  “It’s got to be Nick,” Nola insists. “Otherwise, I go to the police chief and tell him everything.”

  “Look, I know that Nick was a jerk,” I say, trying to reason with her. “He was awful to Eve. But if he is innocent why would you want him to go to prison for it?”

  “Nick Brady is not innocent,” Nola snarls with a ferocity I wasn’t expecting. She rubs at the ropy scar on her chest and she catches me staring. “You think I was the one who went after Nick at the high school. That I was the one who pushed him into the glass case, caused this scar and the one on his arm.”

  “That’s what I heard,” I say carefully, not knowing if this is the answer Nola wants to hear.

  “It’s partly true,” Nola says picking up a penny-filled jar from the bedside table and tipping it back and forth so that its contents jangle. As Nola holds the jar up to the window, the copper glinting in the afternoon light, her face changes, just slightly. There’s a crack in her usually composed countenance, a vulnerability I’ve never seen before. Then it’s gone. Like the flash from a firefly. “You want to know what happened that day?”

  She doesn’t wait for me to nod but plunges forward. “My mom made me go to the high school to pick up Eve’s things. I told her that Eve didn’t need that stuff anymore, that she should just let the school deal with it all. Wrong answer.” Nola gives a bitter laugh. “So I went to the school and gathered her things. My last stop was down in the girls’ locker room.”

  “Yeah,” I interrupt. “And Nick and a friend of his were down there and Nick made some stupid comment about Eve. You pushed him into the glass case.” I wipe mucous from my nose with my sleeve. I need to get some semblance of control back or Nola will own me. “I’m not saying that Nick didn’t deserve to get his ass kicked, but he didn’t hurt Eve. At least not that day.”

  “But he hurt me.” Nola’s eyes flash angrily. “He made that sick comment about Eve and oral sex and then he and his friend followed me into the locker room and grabbed me. Nick pulled his pants down and tried to make me...” Nola trails off and shakes her head. “But I fought back. I managed to get out of the locker room and they chased me and we fell into the glass case.”

  “Why didn’t you tell anyone?” I ask, thinking of thirteen-year-old Nola being accosted by Nick and his friend and no Eve to protect her. Nola has lied about a lot of things over the years, but in this case I actually believe her.

  Nola gives a wry smile. “Like you said, no one would believe me. It was my word against Nick Brady and his friend. They concocted the story about me pushing Nick through the glass. They were pretty smart—just enough of the truth to make it believable.” Nola rubs the scar on her chest again. “It was kind of a win-win. I got the satisfaction of watching the glass slice through Nick’s arm and I got kicked out of the Grotto school system.”

  “Nola, I can’t blame something on an innocent man,” I say, tears filling my eyes again.

  “Then I’ll tell them you did it,” Nola says sharply. When she speaks again, her voice is soft, cajoling. “But I know you didn’t mean to hurt Eve. I know what guys like Nick Brady and Cam Harper do to girls. What they steal from them. If it wasn’t for Nick or Cam, you would have never killed Eve. I truly believe that. You were desperate to keep Cam and you lashed out in the heat of the moment. Who could blame you? Eve should have kept your secret but she had her own secrets to keep.” Nola says, taking a step toward me. “Nick hit her and demeaned her. And he sexually assaulted me.” She brushe
s a strand of hair out of my face. I try not to flinch. “Together we can take down Nick Brady.”

  I begin to protest but she interrupts. “Remember, Maggie, I was there, I heard everything, saw everything. And I can make life miserable for you.” She drops her eyes to my belly. “And for your baby.” My heart skips a beat and I know that she’s telling the truth.

  “But Nick has an alibi,” I say. “Jamie Hutchcraft was with him that afternoon and then he was with his mother.”

  Nola gives a derisive snort. “Not a solid alibi. I bet if you pressed Jamie, you’ll find it’s not so airtight. And what mother wouldn’t lie for her child? And besides, DNA trumps alibi any day. DNA doesn’t lie.”

  “But I don’t understand,” I manage to eke out. “Why would you want to lie for me?”

  Nola examines me as if looking at a specimen through a microscope. “I told you, if it wasn’t for Nick or Cam, it would never have happened. And I thought about it. If I went to the police, I’d have to explain why I was at the caves in the first place, why I didn’t step in and help Eve. It would just complicate things.

  “I’m giving you a gift, Maggie,” Nola soothes. “All you have to do is grab it. You don’t even have to do all that much. I’ll get the DNA, and all you’ll have to do is add it to an existing piece of evidence and send it in. When it’s retested Nick will go down for being the disgusting creep we both know he is. Easy-peasy. It’s another win-win.” Nola smiles brightly as if she’s just asked me to tear up a traffic ticket or something.

  “It’s not easy,” I exclaim. “It’s nearly impossible to tamper with evidence once it’s been sealed and entered into the log. There’s no way we’ll get away with it.”

  “Okay, not easy, but not impossible either. Come on, Maggie, we’re talking about the Grotto PD, not the FBI,” Nola laughs. “No one is going to notice a tiny pinprick from a needle. All we need is one drop of blood. Now go on home to that husband of yours. I’ll stop by tomorrow with what you need.”

  “Why didn’t you...” I start, my voice deadened, flat. “Why didn’t you try to help Eve?”

  Nola looks me square in the eye. “Because I didn’t really care.” I hold her gaze. She’s lying. For all her bravado, Nola is lying. She did care about Eve. She does care, or she wouldn’t be doing this.

  I turn and numbly move from the room, down the stairs and out the front door. I want to run into my old house, up the stairs and to my old bedroom. I want to be little again and have this all disappear. Instead, I ignore Joyce Harper who is standing on her front lawn and wave away my brother who is waiting for me on the front porch.

  “I’ll phone you later,” I manage to call out to Colin as I climb into my car.

  I always knew that one day my actions in the caves would come back to haunt me in a real, concrete way. I already have the bad dreams, the flashbacks, the crippling guilt. But now I have to face what I’ve done and make a decision that is, in my mind, equally as evil. If I do what Nola is asking me to do, I’m for all intents and purposes killing Nick Brady. I’ll be branding him as a murderer. I’ll be taking away his freedom, his life as he knows it.

  As I pull away from the curb, another thought comes to mind. Maybe there’s another way.

  Therapy Transcript

  Client Name: Nola Knox, 13 years

  Therapist Name: Linda Gonzalez, LMHC, NCC

  Date of Service: March 19, 1996

  L. Gonzalez: Good morning, Nola. It’s so good to see you smiling. You had a good week since I saw you last?

  N. Knox: It was okay.

  L. Gonzalez: What made it okay?

  N. Knox: I don’t know. I went to the doctor and he said my lung is all better.

  L. Gonzalez: That must be a relief. It looks like the wound is healing nicely.

  N. Knox: Yeah. After I got the stitches out, I practiced doing stitches too. I think I finally got the hang of it.

  L. Gonzalez: Oh? How do you practice something like that?

  N. Knox: I asked the doctor what they used in med school and he said that pig’s skin is the closest to what it would be like to work on a person. He also said oranges and bananas work too. I sliced through the peel of an orange and sewed it up with needle and thread. It took a few tries to figure it out, but my stitches actually looked pretty good.

  L. Gonzalez: You mentioned during our last visit that you wanted to be a vet. It sounds like you’ve thought more about this?

  N. Knox: Yeah. I’ve always wanted to be a vet. Animals are much more trusting than people; don’t you think? Easier to deal with.

  L. Gonzalez: In what ways?

  N. Knox: Well, they don’t talk back, that’s pretty obvious. And all you have to do is talk gently to them, maybe offer them a treat, they calm down and you can get them to do anything you want them to. People don’t work that way.

  L. Gonzalez: Nola, your teachers say that your interactions with your classmates tend to be contentious...

  N. Knox: I don’t care about them.

  L. Gonzalez: Who do you care about?

  L. Gonzalez: There must be someone you care about. A friend, your mother?

  N. Knox: My mother only cares about herself and Eve. Why should I care about her?

  L. Gonzalez: Your mother is grieving Eve’s death. It’s very difficult to lose a child and sometimes people are so consumed by sadness they can barely take care of themselves let alone someone else. Are you being taken care of, Nola? Are you eating? Sleeping?

  N. Knox: I’m not stupid. If I say that my mom isn’t feeding me or say that she’s neglecting me I know that I go into foster care. Not going to happen. I’m fine. We’re fine.

  L. Gonzalez: Fair enough. Let’s go back to what you said about how dealing with animals is easier than people. What if you tried that with your mother and your teachers and classmates? All you have to do is talk gently and offer them a treat—obviously not a dog biscuit, but maybe a kind word or two—and perhaps things might get better. What do you say? Will you give it a try this week? See what happens?

  N. Knox: I suppose.

  L. Gonzalez: And you might want to think about using this same strategy with the boy you hurt. It could go a long way with the juvenile courts if you offer him a sincere apology for pushing him and causing his injuries.

  N. Knox: I will never, ever, apologize to Nick Brady. I don’t care if I go to jail or have to come here every week for the rest of my life. I’m not saying sorry. He’s lucky I didn’t kill him.

  MAGGIE KENNEDY-O’KEEFE

  Wednesday, June 17, 2020

  I don’t know where to go. I can’t go back to work and I can’t go home. There’s no way I can explain why I’m so upset. I just start driving, winding through the streets of Grotto on autopilot. Maybe I can just run away. Take off and start a new life somewhere. Raise my baby away from Grotto and Nola Knox. That’s what I should have done in the first place, left Grotto for good. But no, I wanted to be near my dad and if I’m being honest, wanted to keep an eye on Eve’s case, to be close if there were any new developments. Be careful what you wish for. Something new has definitely developed.

  I nearly miss a stop sign and slam on the brakes, the seat belt snapping tight against my chest as I come to a screeching stop, narrowly missing an elderly man walking his dog. My heart hammers in my chest as he walks in front of my car, shooting daggers at me. I have to get myself under control.

  Shakily, I move through the intersection, keeping my speed well below the limit and find myself heading toward Ransom Road. Only two houses sit on the quiet street and I pull in front of the house where Nola and I ran to call 911 the night Eve died. As far as I know, Vivian Benson still lives there. She would be about seventy-five years old by now. Over the years, we’ve only greeted each other with brief, hurried hellos, never acknowledging the night that Nola and I showed up on her doorstep. I park beneath a locust tree
in front of Vivian’s house, its feathery leaves blocking the sun from beating down on my car.

  I remember how after she called 911, Vivian wrapped me in a blanket and settled me on her sofa until the police came. I remember how comforting it was to feel her weight there next to me as the full understanding of what I had done settled over me. Until the moment I saw Eve’s dead body I didn’t believe that I had hurt her that badly.

  Confident I’m alone I allow myself something that I haven’t done in twenty-five years. I weep for Eve. Shame and grief spew from me in great racking sobs. I meant to hurt Eve, but I hadn’t meant to kill her. But she discovered the truth about Cam Harper and she was going to tell. I was pregnant and though I hadn’t told Cam yet I was sure we’d have our happy-ever-after. I thought I was in love and Eve told me a truth that my fifteen-year-old self wasn’t prepared to hear.

  I lashed out. Eve fought back. I walked away from the caves and Eve didn’t.

  I search through the glove box for some tissues and blow my nose. There has to be a way out of this. No one would believe Nola Knox, would they? She has always been the town weirdo, angry, sometimes violent. Maybe her accusations would be written off as another one of her crazy rants. For years Nola and her mother bad-mouthed Nick Brady, saying he was responsible, so if she pointed the finger at me, would people take her seriously? A horrific thought flashes into my mind. I could get rid of the problem. Nola. Maybe I could frame Nola instead of Nick.

  No. I don’t think I can get away with it. I probably won’t get away with Eve’s murder either. With the reexamination of the evidence and twenty-five years of advancement in forensics, there is a good chance that my DNA will be found. My DNA wasn’t in the system but I know that my brother had sent a swab into one of those genetic testing companies to find out what percentage of Irish and Eastern European he was. There is a good chance that his DNA could eventually lead to me.

  I know there is a way out of this; I just need more time to think. Nola isn’t giving me this luxury. She wants to act now, wants to implicate Nick Brady. I reach for my gun belt. Maybe there is a way out. I grasp the butt of my gun and release the thumb snap. I imagine lifting the gun to my temple and pulling the trigger. Instant relief.