Book Review: This Is How I Lied

Synopsis:

Everyone has a secret they’ll do anything to hide . . .

Twenty-five years ago, the body of sixteen-year-old Eve Knox was found in the caves near her home in the small town of Grotto, Iowa. It was discovered by her younger sister, Nola, and best friend, Maggie. The police identified a handful of suspects, including her boyfriend, Nick. But without sufficient evidence to even make an arrest, the case eventually went cold and has remained unsolved.

For all those years, Maggie has continued to be haunted by Eve’s death and the events of that horrible night. She followed her father’s footsteps into law enforcement. The retired chief of police now requires constant care due to Alzheimer’s. Maggie is a detective and, happily, nearly eight months pregnant following struggles with infertility.

Maggie is thrust into the past when a new piece of evidence surfaces and the investigation into Eve’s death is reopened, with Maggie taking the lead. As she reexamines the clues, secrets about what really happened begin to emerge.

But someone in town knows more than they’re letting on, and they’ll stop at nothing to keep the truth buried deep.

Review:

Heather Gudenkauf is the New York Times bestselling author of eight novels, including Before She Was Found, a gripping cautionary tale in which she examines preteen and teen friendships, popularity, and acceptance, and heightened dangers presented by modern technology. In This is How I Lied she returns to those themes, exploring the power of secrets to shape and destroy lives. Gudenkauf says that she often gets ideas for stories from the news. “I’ll scan news articles and a tidbit will jump out at me. It can be the smallest detail but the idea will gradually bloom into a full story.” This is How I Lied finds its genesis in Gudenkauf’s fascination with the various ways in which technology, especially DNA evidence, is permitting cold cases — sometimes decades old — to finally be solved. She “thought it would be interesting to explore how this might play out in a small town where the inhabitants (and the guilty party) believed the truth behind the crime would never be discovered.” She describes the books as “dark, twisty, emotional.”

Grotto is home to around ten thousand Iowans, many of whom, like Maggie and her husband, Shaun, operate farms and orchards. Nestled along a river, it boasts a circuitous cave system known as Grotto Caves State Park, and is a popular destination for hikers and spelunkers. Grotto is the backdrop for Gudenkauf’s dark, stylishly atmospheric story. It was in one of those caves that Eve’s body was found by Maggie and Eve’s creepy, frightening, and decidedly unpopular younger sister, Nola, on the cold evening of December 22, 1995. She had been brutally beaten, strangled, and left on an icy cave floor. Maggie’s father was never able to keep his promise to Eve’s mother that he would find and bring the killer to justice. Now her father can remember events from years ago, but has lost his short-term memory and is cared for in the family home by Maggie’s brother, Colin, a fledgling artist.

As the story opens, Maggie is summoned to the current police chief’s office and informed that new evidence has been discovered — one of Eve’s boots, caked with mud, was found in a cave by two teenage boys who turned it over to the department. Maggie recognizes it immediately. and in her first-person narrative explains that the news is “a punch to my gut. I haven’t heard my best friend’s name said out loud in a long time.” The chief agrees to led Maggie take the lead on the reopened investigation. Are her motives for wanting to head up the investigation altruistic or self-serving?

Maggie’s account alternatives with the exposition of Nola’s perspective, presented in the third person. Now a veterinarian, Nola also resides in the family home adjacent to Eve’s. Her mother, still grieving Eve, is in a skilled nursing facility after sustaining a fall under circumstances that are decidedly suspicious. Nola is as unpleasant and obsessed with the anatomy of animals as she was as a girl. Gudenkauf vividly describes how a once tidy home is now filthy and trash-strewn as a result of her mother’s hoarding. However, her mother’s habits enable Nola to maintain unsavory secrets. After all, if a home is cluttered, there are many places to hide things.

Gudenkauf skillfully propels the story forward by including yet a third perspective: Eve’s. At deftly paced intervals, Gudenkauf takes readers back to December 21 and 22, 1995, the last days that Eve was alive. She reveals what happened between Eve and her boyfriend, Nick, the handsome boy from a wealthy and powerful local family whose life has not turned out the way most people would have predicted. Her mother encouraged the pairing, but Nola knew the true character of their relationship. Step-by-step, Gudenkauf details Eve’s final hours, leading up to why and how she ended up in the cave where her life came to a tragic end.

Virtually every character in This is How I Lied is harboring secrets, including Maggie, Nola, and their neighbor, Cam Harper, a handsome married businessman and father. Gudenkauf says that she devises a rich backstory for each of her characters. As a teenager, Maggie regularly babysat the Harpers’ children. But Maggie reveals that their interactions went beyond babysitting, and she has spent many years visiting her father in the old neighborhood without ever speaking to or acknowledging Cam. Whatever happened between them remains a secret Maggie has not shared with anyone, including her husband. And as the investigation into Eve’s murder proceeds, Maggie learns that Shaun has not, over the years, been completely forthcoming about his connection to Eve.

In This is How I Lied, Gudenkauf again demonstrates her prowess at constructing engrossing mysteries set in small-town America. Her vivid descriptions of the setting are crucial to the novel’s success — the picturesque little town of Grotto is filled with colorful characters and has been shrouded in mystery for more than two decades. She brings the streets, homes and, most particularly, the caves to life with evocative, descriptive prose that pulls readers into the action. This is How I Lied is replete with plot twists, revelations, and red herrings, as well as one jaw-dropping disclosure that brings into question readers’ every assumption up to that point and sends the balance of the story on a different trajectory. Gudenkauf’s timing is spot-on, as are her characters’ voices and viewpoints, especially that of Nola both as a teenager and a never-married practicing veterinarian still residing with her mother. Her intelligence and rationalizations of her behavior make her a fascinating, compelling, and haunting character. “Often these don’t make into the story, but by fully developing their personalities and histories, it helps keep me in tune with them as I write. Knowing the characters’ likes and dislikes, their foibles and strengths helps me to honestly and accurately determine their motivations and the decisions they make as they move through the novel.” It’s a drafting technique that clearly works because her characters and their actions are believable and plausible — chillingly so, in the case of Nola.

At the center of the story, Maggie proves to be a less-than-wholly-reliable narrator, and finding her empathetic is, at times, challenging. As her investigation proceeds, she is forced to confront the memories that have pervaded her decision-making for so many years and, once and for all, wrestle and make peace with the demons that have overshadowed her accomplishments and plagued her as she has pursued a happy family life with Shaun. As Gudenkauf puts it, “Maggie has dedicated her adult life to helping others and is a loving daughter, sister, and wife . . . Like all of my protagonists, Maggie is complicated and flawed and has made some big mistakes, but ultimately she is doing the best that she can.”

As the pieces of the troubling puzzle fall into place, Gudenkauf expertly ramps up the tension between the characters both in the flashbacks to 1995 and the present, as the dual story lines accelerate and merge into a stunning conclusion that is no less satisfying because readers will most likely have solved the crime before all is revealed and resolved.

Excerpt from This is How I Lied

PROLOGUE
EVE KNOX
Friday, December 22, 1995

Eve wasn’t even supposed to be in these caves. They had a dizzying number of stony corridors and with one wrong turn she could become lost. At fifteen she knew these paths better than most people twice her age, and she moved as quickly as she could, being careful not to slip on the icy cave floor. Eve had come here to clear her head, to think about things and now she may never make it out alive.

Fear made Eve’s skin buzz, numbing the pain in her head and her wrist. She considered her options. She could try to talk her way out or she could try to run from the cave and to safety.

She didn’t get a chance to decide. Before she could speak fingers were digging into her arm trying to push her more deeply into the cave. Eve managed to wriggle free but lost her balance and stumbled to the ground. Her fingers swept the floor in search of some kind of weapon and her hand landed on a jagged piece of limestone. She clutched onto the rock and with a cry of frustration she swung her arm hoping to strike but only cut through the damp air. She swung again, this time grazing flesh.

Eve tried to get up but was pulled back to the ground with a teeth-rattling crash. She twisted around to see talon-like fingers clinging to her boot.

“No,” Eve cried, kicking out at her captor. She tore away from the grasp and ran toward the cave’s opening, hopscotching over jagged stone. Almost there, Eve thought as her right foot plunged into a narrow crevice and she tumbled forward.

The sickening snap of her ankle filled her ears and Eve howled in pain. Using her good hand, she tried to push herself up to her knees but her right foot was still snared. Only twenty yards more and she would be free. She gave her leg a desperate yank, the gasping, ragged breath closing in. Her skin tore and her Doc Marten was lost, but the foot came free.

She army-crawled across the rough stone toward the mouth of the cave, the ends of her scarf cascading down her back as she moved. Almost there. Suddenly, the scarf pulled tight at her throat. Eve froze but still the pressure. She scrabbled at the fabric, desperately trying to slide her fingers between the wool and her skin. Her legs felt weak and her lungs screamed for oxygen. Night had fallen and the only light came from the houses far up atop the bluffs, twinkling cold stars. Tiny
beacons. Only a little bit farther, Eve thought. I’m so close.

With one frantic effort, she managed to flip onto her back but the scarf didn’t loosen. It cut still deeper into her throat. Her screams became lodged in her chest. Her vision blurred and her arms fell uselessly to her side. Above her, Eve found eyes filled with rage. There was no fear, no regret, no sorrow. No air could pass through to her lungs. The cold crept through her skin, settling deep into Eve’s bones until she became one with the slick limestone.

How did things go so wrong? Eve wondered. Why? Just beyond the cave, night had fully arrived. Snow came down in dizzying swirls. Dark places made it so much easier to be cruel, to exact revenge.

Maggie Kennedy-O’Keefe
Monday, June 15, 2020

As I slide out of my unmarked police car my swollen belly briefly gets wedged against the steering wheel. Sucking in my gut does little good but I manage to move the seat back and squeeze past the wheel. I swing my legs out the open door and glance furtively around the parking lot behind the Grotto Police Department to see if anyone is watching.

Almost eight months pregnant with a girl and not at my most graceful. I’m not crazy about the idea of one of my fellow officers seeing me try to pry myself out of this tin can. The coast appears to be clear so I begin the little ritual of rocking back and forth trying to build up enough momentum to launch myself out of the driver’s seat.

Once upright, I pause to catch my breath. The morning dew is already sending up steam from the weeds growing out of the cracked concrete. Sweating, I slowly make my way to the rear entrance of the Old Gray Lady, the nickname for the building we’re housed in. Built in the early 1900s, the first floor consists of the lobby, the finger printing and intake center, a community room, interview rooms and the jail. The second floor, which once held the old jail is home to the squad room and offices. The dank, dark basement holds a temperamental boiler and the department archives.

The Grotto Police Department has sixteen sworn officers that includes the chief, two lieutenants, a K-9 patrol officer, nine patrol officers, a school resource officer and two detectives. I’m detective number two.

I grew up in Grotto, a small river town of about ten thousand that sits among a circuitous cave system known as Grotto Caves State Park, the most extensive in Iowa. Besides being a favorite destination spot for families, hikers and spelunkers, Grotto is known for its high number of family owned farms – a dying breed. My husband Shaun and I are part of that breed – we own an apple orchard and tree farm.

“Pretty soon we’re going to have to roll you in,” an irritatingly familiar voice calls out from behind me.

I don’t bother turning around. “Francis, that wasn’t funny the first fifty times you said it and it still isn’t,” I say as I scan my key card to let us in.
Behind me, Pete Francis, rookie officer and all-around caveman grabs the door handle and in a rare show of chivalry opens it so I can step through. “You know I’m just joking,” Francis says giving me the grin that all the young ladies in Grotto seem to find irresistible but just gives me another reason to roll my eyes.

“With the wrong person, those kinds of jokes will land you in sensitivity training,” I remind him.

“Yeah, but you’re not the wrong person, right?” he says seriously, “You’re cool with it?”

I wave to Peg behind the reception desk and stop at the elevator and punch the number two button. The police department only has two levels but I’m in no mood to climb up even one flight of stairs today. “Do I look like I’m okay with it?” I ask him.

Francis scans me up and down. He takes in my brown hair pulled back in a low bun, wayward curls springing out from all directions, my eyes red from lack of sleep, my untucked shirt, the fabric stretched tight against my round stomach, my sturdy shoes that I think are tied, but I can’t know for sure because I can’t see over my boulder-sized belly.

“Sorry,” he says appropriately contrite and wisely decides to take the stairs rather than ride the elevator with me.

“You’re forgiven,” I call after him. As I step on the elevator to head up to my desk, I check my watch. My appointment with the chief is at eight and though he didn’t tell me what the exact reason is for this meeting I think I can make a pretty good guess.

It can’t be dictated as to when I have to go on light duty, seven months into my pregnancy, but it’s probably time. I’m guessing that Chief Digby wants to talk with me about when I want to begin desk duty or take my maternity leave. I get it.

It’s time I start to take it easy. I’ve either been the daughter of a cop or a cop my entire life but I’m more than ready to set it aside for a while and give my attention, twenty-four-seven to the little being inhabiting my uterus.

Shaun and I have been trying for a baby for a long, long time. And thousands of dollars and dozens of procedures later, when we finally found out we were pregnant, Shaun started calling her peanut because the only thing I could eat for the first nine weeks without throwing up was peanut butter sandwiches. The name stuck.
This baby is what we want more than anything in the world but I’d be lying if I didn’t admit that I’m a little bit scared. I’m used to toting around a sidearm not an infant.

The elevator door opens to a dark paneled hallway lined with ten by sixteen framed photos of all the men who served as police chief of Grotto over the years. I pass by eleven photos before I reach the portrait of my father. Henry William Kennedy, 1995 – 2019, the plaque reads.

While the other chiefs stare out from behind the glass with serious expressions, my dad smiles showing his straight, white teeth. He was so proud when he was named chief of police. We were all proud, except maybe my older brother, Colin. God knows what Colin thought of it. As a teenager he was pretty self-absorbed, but I guess I was too, especially after my best friend died. I went off the rails for a while but here I am now. A Grotto PD detective, following in my dad’s footsteps. I think he’s proud of me too. At least when he remembers.

Last time I brought my dad back here to visit, we walked down this long corridor and paused at his photo. For a minute I thought he might make a joke, say something like, Hey, who’s that good looking guy? But he didn’t say anything. Finding the right words is hard for him now. Occasionally, his frustration bubbles over and he yells and sometimes even throws things which is hard to watch. My father has always been a very gentle man.

The next portrait in line is our current police chief, Les Digby. No smile on his tough guy mug. He was hired a month ago, taking over for Dexter Stroope who acted as the interim chief after my dad retired. Les is about ten years older than I am, recently widowed with two teenage sons. He previously worked for the Ransom Sheriff’s Office and I’m trying to decide if I like him. Jury’s still out.