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Karin Slaughter’s New Book ‘This Is Why We Lied’ Stuns: Read Part 2 of the Excerpt Here!
3 days ago
Revered for her chilling crime thrillers, New York Times bestselling author Karin Slaughter has sold more than 40 million books, and her latest novel, This Is Why We Lied , packs all her signature twists and heart-racing turns. This novel is the twelfth installment in her fan-favorite Will Trent series, which follows Georgia Bureau of Investigation agent Will Trent. The smart and empathetic character of Will Trent is so beloved by fans that the book series was also made into a hit TV show on ABC starring Ramón Rodríguez. (The series will return next year on ABC, and all episodes are available to stream now on Hulu.)
Also, check out First for Women ‘s exclusive video interview with Karin Slaughter here — she dishes on what she thinks readers will enjoy most about her new book, Will Trent’s character on page versus the big screen and more!
If you missed part one of the excerpt from This is Why We Lied , catch up here . To read part two — and find out what happened after Will heard those eerie, blood-curdling screams in the woods — keep scrolling, below.
Heart-racing, chilling, shocking…New York Times bestselling author Karin Slaughter delivers all this and more in every story she's ever written. And her latest novel, This Is Why We Lied, packs all her signature twists — and sometimes-disturbing — turns. This new novel is the twelfth installment in her long-running Will Trent series, which follows Georgia […] William Morrow
Prologue, Part Two
Wi ll bolted away from the path, running toward the lake. The sound had come from the opposite side of the swimming area, toward the bottom of the snowman. He kept his head down. Legs pumping. He could hear the blood rushing through his ears alongside the echo of the screams. The woods quickly turned into a dense forest. Low-hanging limbs slashed at his arms. Gnats swarmed around his face. The terrain suddenly dropped. He landed sideways on his foot. His ankle rolled.
He ignored the sharp pain, forcing himself to keep going. Will tried to get his adrenaline in check. He had to slow his pace. The compound was at a higher elevation than the lake. There was a steep drop-off near the dining hall. He found the back end of the Loop Trail, then followed another zig-zagging path down. His heart was still pumping. His brain was still reeling with recriminations. He should’ve paid attention to his instincts the first time. He should’ve figured this out. He felt sick about what he was going to find, because the woman had screamed for her life, and there was no predator more vicious than a human being.
He coughed as the air turned thick with smoke. The moonlight broke through the trees just in time for him to see the ground was terraced. Will stumbled into a clearing. Empty beer cans and cigarette butts littered the ground. Tools were everywhere. Will kept his head on swivel as he jogged past sawhorses and extension cords and a generator that had been turned on its side. There were three more cottages, all of them in various stages of repair. A tarp covered one roof. Windows were boarded up in the next. The last cabin was on fire. Flames licked out between the log siding. The door was half-open. Smoke ribboned from a busted side window. The roof wasn’t going to hold for much longer.
The screams for help. The fire. Someone had to be inside.
Will took a deep breath before he ran up the porch stairs. Kicked the door wide open. A blast of heat snatched the moisture from his eyes. All but one of the windows was boarded up. The only light was from the fire. He crouched down, keeping himself below the smoke as he made his way through the living room. Into the tiny kitchen. The bathroom with space for a soaking tub. The small closet. His lungs started to ache. He was running out of breath.
He inhaled a mouthful of black smoke as he headed toward the bedroom. No door. No fixtures. No closet. The back wall of the cottage had been stripped to the studs.
They were too narrow for him to fit through.
Will heard a loud creak over the roar of the fire. He jogged back into the living room. The ceiling was fully engulfed. Flames were chewing away the support beams. The roof was collapsing. Chunks of burning wood rained down. Will could barely see for the smoke.
The front door was too far away. He ran toward the busted window, jumping at the last minute, hurtling past falling debris. He rolled to the ground. Coughs racked his body. His skin was tight, as though it wanted to boil from the heat. He tried to stand up, but could only make it to his hands and knees before he coughed out a wad of black soot. His nose was running. Sweat poured from his face. He coughed again. His lungs felt like shattered glass. He pressed his forehead to the ground. Mud smacked at his singed eyebrows. He pulled in a sharp breath through his nose.
Copper.
Will sat up.
There was a belief among police officers that you could smell the iron in blood when it hit oxygen. This wasn’t true. The iron needed a chemical reaction to activate the scent. At crime scenes, that something was usually the fatty compounds in skin. The odor was amplified in the presence of water.
Will looked out at the lake. His eyes blurred. He wiped away the mud and sweat. Silenced the cough that wanted to come.
In the distance, he could make out the soles of a pair of Nikes. Blood-stained jeans pulled down to the knees.
Arms floating out to the sides.
The body was face up, half in the water, half out.
Will felt momentarily transfixed by the sight. It was the way the moon turned the skin a waxy, pale blue. Maybe joking about growing up in an orphanage had put it in his mind, or maybe he was still feeling the absence of any family members on his side of the aisle at the wedding, but Will found himself thinking of his own mother.
As far as he knew, there were only two photographs that documented the seventeen years of his mother’s short life. One was a mugshot from an arrest that had taken place a year before Will was born. The other was taken by the medical examiner who had performed her autopsy. Polaroid. Faded. The waxy blue of his mother’s skin was the same color as the dead woman lying twenty feet away.
Will stood. He limped toward the body.
He wasn’t under any illusion that he would see his mother’s face. His gut had already told him who he would find. Still, sta nding over the body, knowing he was right, etched another scar in the darkest place of his heart.
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.
Known for her complex, chilling crime thrillers, bestselling author Karin Slaughter has sold more than 40 million books worldwide and many of her novels have been adapted into hit TV shows, from Netflix’s ‘Pieces of Her’ starring Toni Collette to ABC’s ‘Will Trent.’ Slaughter’s forthcoming novel, This is Why We Lied, out August 20th, is […]
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, made his voice firm. “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 …s tay … 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 …h im … ” 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.
Her body went slack. She let go of his collar. Will watched her hand fall away, the ripples as it splashed into the water. The trembling had stopped. Her mouth gaped open. A slow, pained sigh left her body. Will waited for her to take another raspy breath, but her chest went still.
He panicked in the silence. He co uldn’t let her go. Sara was a doctor. She could save Mercy. She would bring Jon and he would have his last chance to say goodbye.
“Sara!”
Will’s voice echoed around the lake. He ripped off his shirt, covered up her wounds. Jon wouldn’t see the damage. He would see his mother’s face.
He would know that she loved him. He wouldn’t have to live the rest of his life wondering what might have been.
“Mercy?” Will shook her so hard that her head lolled to the side. “Mercy?”
He slapped his palm against her face. Her skin was ice cold. There was no more color left to drain. The blood had stopped flowing. She wasn’t breathing. He couldn’t find a pulse. He had to start compressions. Will laced together his hands, placed his palms on Mercy’s chest, locked his elbows, squared his shoulders, and pushed down with his full weight.
Pain sliced through his hand like a lightning strike. He tried to pull back, but he was caught.
“Stop!” Sara had come out of nowhere. She grabbed his hands, trapping them against Mercy’s chest. “Don’t move. You’ll cut the nerves.”
It took a moment for him to understand that Sara wasn’t worried about Mercy. She was worried about Will.
He looked down. His brain had no explanation for what he was seeing. Slowly, he came back to his senses. He was looking at the murder weapon. The attack had been frenzied, violent, filled with rage. The killer hadn’t just stabbed Mercy in the chest. He’d attacked her from behind, driving the knife into her back with such force that the handle had snapped off. The blade was still embedded inside Mercy’s chest.
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