She was supposed to be in the building that day.
As the book unfolds, it becomes clear that all three women are guarding important secrets.
But just how far will they go to keep them?
Credit: Simon & Schuster
Read an exclusive excerpt below for your first taste, and pre-orderThe Good Liarhereahead of its April 3 release.
Excerpt from The Good Liar, by Catherine McKenzie
Cecily
I was late.
Thats why I wasnt there when it happened.
Jason Trott
Not in the building, not even that close.
I lost track of time that morning trying to get the kids organized and out the door.
Ill have everything under control and then poof!
an hour will have gone by and weve missed whatever deadline we were supposed to hit.
None of those misses ever made a permanent difference in my life.
Not that I knew of, anyway.
Just consternation and an eye roll from the kids.Mo-ombeing Mom.
Usually, it seemed beyond my control.
That day, though .
that day, I mightve been late on purpose.
I can admit that now.
I counted down the stops from ten to one, like I was counting down to a rocket launch.
LikeAlice in Wonderlands White Rabbit, I was late, late,late.
My heart throbbed as I ran up the concrete stairs.
I was too focused on getting to my destination.
When I was finally outside, I had to stop to catch my breath.
What I saw stopped me from breathing at all.
The building I was trying so desperately to get to was two blocks away.
The October sun shouldve been glinting off its glass panels.
Instead, they were engulfed in flames.
Before I could process what was happening, screams swallowed me.
It felt like being caught in that noise at the beginning of Sgt.
I remember only bits and pieces after that.
People running past me, my nose filling with the awful stench of burned plastic, the crushing heat.
Then I lost the thread of time again.
Through it all, I couldnt move.
I was the lamppost more than one person rammed up against.
I stood there, stuck, as the fire licked the building clean.
CHAPTER ONE
Im late again.
Im proof to the contrary.
Yet, my changing personality isnt rationally connected to what happened.
Im alive today because I wasnt in the building.
Because I was late, I was safe.
Marked, scarred even, but alive.
Five hundred and thirteen other people werent so lucky.
Death had plans for that man; it would not be denied.
But despite my efforts, Iamlate today, my racing pulse reminds me.
I check my watch for the twentieth time.
It will be all right.
Cecily Grayson?
the receptionist for the Compensation Initiative asks.
It would be wrong to notice.
Im not allowed to be any of these things.
They did it to remember memorialize the fifteen-floor building that had come crashing down a year ago.
Rememberings important, but the Initiatives real purpose is compensation.
Theres big money in this, Ive learned, as the furnishings on this floor attest.
People might leave here millionaires or paupers, but theyll all be treated to the experience.
As if love or loss has a price.
I push these ungrateful thoughts aside.
The Initiative has done a lot of good for a lot of people, myself included.
I shouldnt be so critical.
Teo Jacksons waiting for me in a boardroom lined with corkboards.
Theyre covered in multicolored cue cards arranged in columns.
Above each one is a white card with one word on it.
Street, reads one.
Unidentified, reads another.
Cecily, Teo says.
Great to see you again.
Teo rubs at his close-cut beard.
His skin is a dark amber, and hes wearing his trademark gray-blue T-shirt under a well-cut corduroy jacket.
Hes worn some variation of this outfit every time Ive seen him.
I imagine his closet divided into four neat sections, his day eased by a lack of decisions.
Why would you even question that?
he asks, smiling with his eyes.
I avoid eye contact.
Teos far too handsome for my current level of self-esteem.
My therapist says I need to be more .
I wasnt in therapy before, but its the only place I can unburden myself.
Teo doesnt flinch or look embarrassed.
He does, however, say, Wait.
He picks up a pink card, writes Poster Child?
on it in thick marker, then tacks it into place beneath the Street column.
My map of the day.
But there was something about him that made me want to believe him, and so I did.
Its what I do for every film, he says.
Its a way to set out the narrative.
But its a documentary.
It still has to tell a story.
Have a beginning, middle, and end.
A protagonist and an antagonist.
His hand shifts from one column to the next, tapping the cards so they pop.
His hand comes to land on the card he just wrote on.
Im not the hero, Teo.
Why dont you let me be the judge of that?
He was photographing some of the homeless who hang out at Quincy Station when the world turned sideways.
When the fire started to spread up Adams Street, he knew they had to get out of there.
But first he decided to take one last shot.
He caught me in a whirlwind of debris with the river glinting in the background.
If you look closely enough, the fireball its become is reflected in my eyes.
I didnt want the recognition, the notoriety, the fame.
By the time I thought to revoke my consent, it was too late.
And then theres Franny Maycombe.But more about her later.
His nails are short but neat, in contrast to my own, chewed down by my worry.
Isnt it someone elses turn in the spotlight?
We arent the only family whos been compensated.
Im wearing black slacks and a simple gray sweater.
As if a couple of inches of hair could make me unrecognizable from the woman in that photograph.
I understand how you feel, Teo says.
But we need you in this film.
I inch over to the glass, getting as close as I can to see if panic sets in.
And sometimes, even, as if I might jump.
And dont say because Im the face of this tragedy.
I touch the pane.
Its cold today, and the glass burns my fingers.
I pull my hand away.
Teo moves behind me.
Because youre the heart of this story, Lily.
I cant imagine telling it without you.Lily.
Its what Tom used to call me.
Had I told Teo that, or did I just look like a Lily to him?
A placid flower floating in a pond, providing a counterpoint to the bullfrogs?
Im not the heart of anything, I say.
My voice is wavering, unconvincing.
I need to work on that, too, my therapist says.
I shouldnt live with so much uncertainty, or project it, either.
I wish you could see what I see, Teo says, resting his hand on my shoulder.
I lean against it, letting him hold my weight for a moment.
His hands gone so suddenly I almost fall.
Maggie is Teos production assistant.
Franny Maycombes arrived, she says.
I guess were getting to Franny faster than Id planned.
I catch Teos eye and shake my head.
Can you ask her to wait?
Were not quite done here.
Of course, Maggie says.
Ill let her know.
I thought you were close with Franny?
Teo says when Maggies out of earshot.
Its a lot right now with the memorial and everything, and Franny .
Not that I blame her.
I turn back to the window.
Teo lets me take a minute.
Are you still okay to do your first interview tomorrow?
I suppose youll be filming all that, too?
My eyes meet his in the glass.
What does he see when he looks at me?
I dont feel like the woman on the cover of all those magazines.
Pretty on the Inside.
I used to feel that way.
And after, I say.
Youll come to the house?
I guess theres nothing left to do but face it.
I nod my agreement.
Is there a back way out of here?
Excerpted fromThe Good Liarby Catherine McKenzie with permission of Lake Union Publishing.
Copyright 2018 by Catherine McKenzie.
