Page 4 of This is Why We Lied

Another woman lost. Another son who would grow up without his mother.

Mercy McAlpine lay in the shallow water, rippling waves sending her shoulders into tiny shrugs. Her head rested on a cluster of rocks that kept her nose and mouth above water. Floating tendrils of blonde hair gave her an ethereal effect—a fallen angel, a fading star.

Cause of death wasn’t a mystery. Will could tell that she’d been repeatedly stabbed. The white button-down shirt Mercy had worn at dinner had disappeared into the bloody pulp of her chest. Water had washed clean some of the wounds. He could see the angry gouges in her shoulder where the knife had been twisted. Dark red squares showed the only thing that had kept the blade from going deeper was the handle.

In his career, Will had seen more horrific crime scenes, but this woman had been alive, walking around, joking, flirting, arguing with her sullen son, warring with her toxic family, less than an hour ago, and now she was dead. She would never be able to make things right with her child. She would never see him fall in love. Never sit in the front row as she watched him marry the love of his life. No more holidays or birthdays or graduations or quiet moments together.

And all Jon would be left with was the aching loss of her absence.

Will allowed himself a few seconds of sorrow before he summoned his training. He scanned the woods in case the killer was still around. He checked for weapons on the ground. The assailant had taken the knife with him. Will studied the woods again. Listened for strange sounds. He swallowed down the soot and bile in his throat. Knelt beside Mercy. Pressed his fingers against the side of her neck to check for a pulse.

He felt the quick jolt of her heartbeat.

She was alive.

“Mercy?” Will gently turned her head in his direction. Her eyes were open, the whites gleaming like shiny marbles. He made his voice firm. “Who did this to you?”

Will heard a whistling sound, but not from her nose or mouth. Her lungs were trying to draw in air through the open wounds in her chest.

“Mercy.” He grabbed her face in his hands. “Mercy McAlpine. My name is Will Trent. I’m an agent with the Georgia Bureau of Investigation. I need you to look at me right now.”

Her eyelids started to flutter.

“Look at me, Mercy,” Will ordered. “Look at me.”

The white flickered for a moment. Her pupils rolled. Seconds passed, maybe a minute, before she finally focused on Will’s face. There was a brief spark of recognition, then a rush of fear. She was back in her body now, filled with terror, filled with pain.

“You’re gonna be okay.” Will started to stand. “I’m going to get help.”

Mercy grabbed Will’s collar, pulling him back down. She looked at him—really looked at him. They both knew that she would not be okay. Instead of panicking, instead of letting him go, she was keeping him here. Her life was coming into focus. The last words she had said to her family, the fight with her son.

“J-Jon … tell him … tell him he h-has to … he has to g-get away from h-huh …”

Will watched her eyelids start to flutter again. He wasn’t going to tell Jon anything. Mercy was going to say her last words to her son’s face. He raised his voice, yelling, “Sara! Get Jon! Hurry!”

“N-no …” Mercy started to tremble. She was going into shock. “J-Jon can’t … he c-can’t … stay … Get away from … from …”

“Listen to me,” Will said. “Give your son the chance to say goodbye.”

“L-love …” she said. “Love him … s-so much.”

Will could hear his own heartbreak in her voice. “Mercy, please stay with me for just a while longer. Sara’s gonna bring Jon here. He needs to see you before—”

“I’m s-sorry …”

“Don’t be sorry,” Will said. “Just stay with me. Please. Think about the last thing Jon said to you. That can’t be the end of it. You know he doesn’t hate you. He doesn’t want you dead. Don’t leave him with that. Please.”

“F-forgive … him …” She coughed, spraying out blood. “Forgive him …”

“Tell him yourself. Jon needs to hear it from you.”

Her fist twisted into his shirt. She pulled him even closer. “F-forgive him …”

“Mercy, please don’t—” Will’s voice broke. She was slipping away too fast. It suddenly hit him what Jon would see if Sara brought him here. This was not a tender moment to say goodbye. No son should have to live with the evidence of his mother’s violent death.

He tried to swallow down his own grief. “Okay. I’ll tell Jon. I promise.”

Mercy took his vow as permission.