Black Lies

DedicationTo my grandparents, who always supported mewith nothing but love.Grandpa, I wish you’d seen me get published.I hope you’re proud.I love you endlessly, Grandma (And I hope this writing isn’t toosmall for you to read!). ContentsDedicationChapter 1Chapter 2Chapter 3Chapter 4Chapter 5Chapter 6Chapter 7Chapter 8Chapter 9Chapter 10Chapter 11Chapter 12Chapter 13Chapter 14Chapter 15Chapter 16Chapter 17Chapter 18Chapter 19Chapter 20Chapter 21Chapter 22Chapter 23Chapter 24Chapter 25Chapter 26Chapter 27Chapter 28Chapter 29Chapter 30Chapter 31Chapter 32Chapter 33Chapter 34Chapter 35Chapter 36Chapter 37Chapter 38Chapter 39Chapter 40Chapter 41Chapter 42Chapter 43Chapter 44Chapter 45Chapter 46Chapter 47Chapter 48Chapter 49Chapter 50Chapter 51Chapter 52Chapter 53Chapter 54Chapter 55AcknowledgementsAbout the AuthorPraiseAlso by Mercedes MercierBack AdCopyright 1‘Lung cancer,’ I tell Sam. ‘Stage four.’She slaps the file back onto my desk. ‘Couldn’t have happened to a nicer arsehole.’‘Hmm.’ I pull the folder in front of me and open it again. Cigarette fumes waft off the paper.‘When do you have your first session with him?’ Sam perches on the edge of my desk, rolling a cigarette between her fingers. At my raised eyebrow, she pockets it.‘Tomorrow.’ I’m looking at the words in front of me, but not really seeing them. The letters merge into monochrome blobs. No matter how many times I read them, I just can’t make sense of them. I’ve seen and heard some awful things throughout my career, but the murder of a pregnant woman and her unborn baby still horrifies me.And tomorrow morning, I’ll be sitting in a locked, soundproofed 2A slight breeze limps off the ocean, barely tickling my face. The evening sun tinges the horizon orange. It still has a bite, even this late in the day, and families linger in the shallow water near the shore.I rub a hand over the back of my neck, where sweat has accumulated, damp and irritating. Every year I think February heralds the end of the summer, but there’s always a last-minute heatwave to remind me it’s not over yet. We’re heading into what meteorologists predict will be one of the worst in recorded history: two weeks of heat over forty degrees Celsius. There’s been no relief at night, with temperatures remaining in the high twenties. Three days in and I’m already frazzled and over it.I swerve between the crowds and into the ocean. The water of