Page 163 of This is Why We Lied

“I chased her down the Rope Trail. I stabbed her and left her for dead. I started the fire to cover my tracks.”

“She wasn’t found in the cottage.”

“I changed my mind. I wanted Jon to have a body to bury. I dragged her out to the water. Figured that would wash away any evidence. I didn’t know she was still alive or I would’ve drowned her.” He shrugged. “Then I hid out at the old camp. Caught some fish, made myself some dinner.”

“Did you rape her?”

Dave hesitated, but only slightly. “Yeah.”

“What did you do with the knife handle?”

“I sneaked into cottage three after Trashcan rang the bell. Same toilet I fixed before the guests hiked in.” Dave shrugged again. “I figured Drew would go down for it. I guess you caught me though.”

Sara watched Dave raise his hands, offering his wrists so that Faith could handcuff him.

“Not yet,” Faith said. “Tell me about Cecil.”

Dave shrugged yet again. “What do you want to know?”

21

Will ran through the woods. He was off the trail again, cutting straight across the Loop. Low-hanging limbs and branches sliced at his face. He held up his arm to block his eyes. He remembered last night, the blind confusion as he’d searched for the source of the screams. The locations hadn’t been set in his mind yet. He’d gotten turned around, sent in two different directions. He’d smelled the smoke from the burning cottage. He’d run inside to search for Mercy. He’d rushed to the shore to rescue her. He’d stabbed his own hand trying to save her. And then he’d heard exactly what he’d wanted to hear.

Forgive him … forgive him …

Will kept his tread light as he climbed the stairs to the front porch. The door was ajar. He inched his way inside. Darkness had come, the moon obscured by clouds that held the promise of another storm. Will could see a figure in the bedroom. Drawers had been rifled. Suitcases were open on the floor.

Dave had figured it out a few minutes before Will. A spark of understanding had thrown the Jackal off his game. He had known Mercy since she was a child. He was her brother. He was her husband. He was her abuser.

He was also cunning and clever and manipulative.

The confession Dave gave Faith would be pristine. It would also be a lie. He had probably picked up enough details over the last twelve hours to answer every single one of Faith’s questions. Everyone in the compound had been awakened by Will ringing the bell. Biscuits knew that Mercy had been found at the lake. Delilah had sat with her body near the burned-out cottage. Keisha had seen the broken knife handle. Dave probably knew where it had been kept before it was used as a weapon. The kitchen staff had watched Kevin open the empty safe. It wasn’t hard to guess what Mercy would store inside. Dave knew where the Wi-Fi worked, where a call could be made or not.

Forgive him. Forgive him.

At the lake, Will had been on his knees begging Mercy to hold on for Jon. She had coughed blood into Will’s face. She had grabbed his shirt, pulled him close, looked him in the eye, and spoken her last words. But her dying wish hadn’t been to Jon. It had been to Will.

Forgive him.

You, a police officer, forgive my son for murdering me.

Will heard a zipper rake back. Then another. Jon was frantically searching Sara’s backpack. He was looking for the vape pen Sara had bribed him into surrendering. Back in the dining hall, Will had just as good as told the kid that the metal could be swabbed for DNA, and that the DNA would link him to Mercy’s murderer.

He waited until Jon had found the Ziploc bag in the front pocket.

Will turned on the lights.

Jon’s mouth gaped open.

“I-I-I-” Jon stuttered. “I n-needed, uh, I needed to calm my nerves.”

“What about your other vape pen?” Will asked. “The one that’s in your back pocket?”

Jon reached for it, then stopped. “It’s broken.”

“Let me see it. Maybe I can fix it for you.”

Jon’s eyes darted furtively around the room—the windows, the door. He started to turn toward the bathroom because he was sixteen years old and still thought like a kid.