Copyright © 2018 by Ashley Elston
Designed by Maria Elias
Cover design by Tanya Ross-Hughes and Maria Elias
Cover art by Tanya Ross-Hughes
Cover photograph of tree © 2018 by David Hughes
Additional cover photographs © Shutterstock
All rights reserved. Published by Hyperion, an imprint of Disney Book Group. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without written permission from the publisher. For information address Hyperion, 125 West End Avenue, New York, New York 10023.
ISBN 978-1-368-01619-3
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For Miller, Ross, and Archer
CONTENTS
Title page
Copyright
Dedication
Excerpt from the diary of Leonard Trudeau: Step one – Cleaning the orchard
One
Two
Noah – Summer of 1999
Three
Noah – Summer of 1999
Four
Noah – Summer of 1999
Five
Noah – Summer of 1999
Six
Noah – Summer of 1999
Seven
Noah – Summer of 1999
Eight
Noah – Summer of 1999
Nine
Noah – Summer of 1999
Ten
Excerpt from the diary of Leonard Trudeau: Step two – Shaking the trees
Noah – Summer of 1999
Eleven
Noah – Summer of 1999
Twelve
Noah – Summer of 1999
Thirteen
Noah – Summer of 1999
Fourteen
Noah – Summer of 1999
Fifteen
Noah – Summer of 1999
Sixteen
Noah – Summer of 1999
Seventeen
Noah – Summer of 1999
Eighteen
Noah – Summer of 1999
Excerpt from the diary of Leonard Trudeau: Step three – Harvesting the pecans
Nineteen
Noah – Summer of 1999
Twenty
Noah – Summer of 1999
Twenty-one
Noah – Summer of 1999
Twenty-two
Noah – Summer of 1999
Twenty-three
Noah – Spring of 2000
Twenty-four
Noah – Spring of 2011
Twenty-five
Twenty-six
Twenty-seven
Six months later…
Acknowledgments
About the Author
Excerpt from the diary of Leonard Trudeau:
Step one—Cleaning the orchard
Just before the pecans are ready to fall, it is imperative to first clean the ground beneath each and every tree. The old limbs and leaves should be removed along with any other clutter that may have accumulated in the last year. This is the best way to prepare for the harvest, giving the next crop of pecans a clean space in which to land.
1
I wake to a Post-it note stuck to my forehead. Yanking it off, it takes a few seconds before I’m alert enough to focus on the words.
PAYBACK’S A BITCH
Lunging out of the bed, my legs get twisted up in my blanket and I end up on the floor. Face-first.
What did he do?
In the never-ending prank war with Jack Cooper, I struck last when I replaced the photograph he took for Fine Art Appreciation with one from last month’s Playboy. Mr. Wheeler gave him five Penance Halls and I’ve been looking over my shoulder ever since.
Jack’s side of the room is empty. The drapes are pulled back and his bed is made but his MacBook is gone as well as his lacrosse gear.
What did he do?
Crossing the room, I stand on the chair against the wall and lean forward so I can open the door without being in front of it. The residence building is the newest on the grounds, but it’s still old by most standards. The heavy wooden door looks like it could withstand any assault, but all you need is a wire coat hanger and the antique lock springs open. Every night, we wedge this chair under the handle so we can sleep without fear of what the other guys will do to us, but it won’t protect me from Jack, who sleeps five feet away.
I push the door open but nothing swings down and hits me…no water comes pouring in…nothing.
No way I’m going to the showers; that’s what he expects me to do. I throw on my uniform, do a quick search through my backpack to make sure he didn’t stick anything in there, and then head toward the main building, grabbing my phone on the way out. I overslept so no time for breakfast. But that’s okay. Maybe he was planning on getting me back there.
I find my friends just as I’m heading into Hunter Hall, but Jack isn’t with them.
“What’s up, O?” Ray asks, while he finishes off a croissant. Ray is a giant guy who’s a genius on the lacrosse field but also made baking cool here at Sutton’s, and most mornings his creations are the first to go. The way he feels about breakfast pastries is what he’s most known for. Well, that and the ever-changing designs cut into the fade of his black hair. Right now it’s a wave pattern in support of Tulane and the upcoming football game against Southern Mississippi. He even dyed the tips of his twists green. “What’s on your face?” he asks.
My hand flies to my cheek. I didn’t look in a mirror—did Jack draw something on me? A dick or a set of boobs? Turning, I catch my reflection in the glass case that holds all the athletic and academic trophies our school has won.
It’s only a smear of toothpaste.
I rub my cheek until it feels raw. “Have y’all seen Jack?” I ask.
They all start mumbling as they look around and are surprised he’s not with the group.
“He was just here,” Sai adds.
Shit, this is going to be bad.
First hour is trig on the second floor of the main building. I only have a few classes with Jack and this isn’t one of them, so I’m going to have to wait him out and pray it’s nothing too humiliating.
My first thought when I see the headmaster motion for me to join him in the hall a few minutes after class starts is…This is it.
“Owen Foster, a word, please.”
I take a deep breath and prepare myself for the worst. I’m halfway across the room when he holds up a hand, stopping me. “You may want to grab your things.”
It’s bad if I’m not coming back to class. I’m going to kill Jack.
I pass my friends on the way back to my desk and try to ignore their quiet jabs.
“Porn or pot?” Ray asks.
Sai leans back. “Or maybe they know you had that girl in your room the other night…what was her name?”
With my back to my teacher and the headmaster, I flip them off and whisper, “Tell Jack I’m going to kick his ass.”
The walk down the main hallway to Dr. Winston’s office is quiet except for the soft echo from our shoes when we hit the small sections of polished dark wood floors that peek between the islands of thick rugs. This building that houses the classrooms looks more like the interior of someone’s home than a high school, and it was the main selling point for my parents when they dropped me off here at the beginning of middle school.
My mind runs through all of the things Jack could have done to get me back while I follow Dr. Winston into his office. But of all the things I’m prepared for, seeing my mother is not one of them.
I quickly scan the room for my dad, but it’s empty except for her.
Jack’s dead if he set me up for so
mething so bad they called my parents. Dr. Winston motions for me to have a seat next to Mom in one of the empty chairs in front of his desk, but I can’t move.
One look at Mom stops me cold. We both have the same out-of-control curly brown hair; normally hers is pulled back and tamed, but today it looks as wild as mine does. Her skin is pale even though we also share the perpetually tanned look and the dark circles under her eyes are new. And even though she’s always been petite, it looks like she’s lost weight. It’s only been a few weeks since I’ve seen her, but she looks rough.
This isn’t about something Jack did.
“What’s wrong?” I ask still rooted in my spot just inside the office.
Is something wrong with Dad? Why is she here alone on a Tuesday morning looking like she’s about to fall apart?
Dr. Winston puts a hand on my shoulder, nudging me toward the empty chair. I shake him off. “Just tell me. I can see it’s bad. What is it?”
Mom sits up straighter and squares her shoulders as if she needs to physically prepare for this conversation. “Owen, please sit down.”
I drop down in the seat hoping the second I do she’ll spill it.
“What is wrong?” I ask, spitting out each word.
“This is about your dad,” Mom starts but I interrupt her.
“Is he dead? Sick?” I hate this. I hate the sadness radiating off her. I hate how Dr. Winston won’t look me in the eye. “Just say it. I can’t stand this.”
“He’s not dead or sick,” Dr. Winston answers. “But it is serious.”
Mom takes a deep breath and then slowly exhales, stalling for every second.
“Your dad…has done something terrible. I got wind of it several weeks ago but just recently found out how bad it is. And he left. He left us to deal with what he’s done.”
My mind races. “What did he do?”
Mom gnaws on her bottom lip, not answering me or looking at me anymore. Seconds tick by and still nothing from her.
“What did he do?” I ask again.
“It’s complicated. Very complicated. I don’t even know where to start….” Mom looks at Dr. Winston, her eyes pleading for help. Mom is always rock-solid, so it freaks me out to see her struggling with whatever it is she’s trying to tell me.
“Owen, let me see if I can help your mother explain.” Dr. Winston perches on the edge of his desk, arms crossed over his chest. He looks at Mom and asks quietly, “May I?”
She nods, then stares at him, emotionless.
Yeah. This is bad.
But instead of telling me what’s going on, he asks me a question. “What do you know about your father’s company?”
I lean back in my chair, frustrated. This is a stupid question. “They frack wells for oil and gas drilling.”
“And business has been good over the last ten years,” he adds. There’s something about his tone that doesn’t sit right. It makes me feel defensive although I have no idea where this is going.
“Yeah, you could say that,” I answer.
Dad’s business, Louisiana Frac, has done well over the last several years. A new natural gas shale was discovered and that discovery changed everything. Changed our town, changed the people in it. Changed Dad’s company.
“You understand that stock options were offered to employees in exchange for the cash your dad needed so he could buy more equipment and hire more people?” Dr. Winston moves around his desk and sits in his chair, steepling his fingers in front of him.
I’m nodding along, trying to anticipate where he’s going, but it’s like my mind is stuck and I can’t think past his next word.
Louisiana Frac went from being a small business to one of the biggest employers of our town. The men and women who have worked there for years, who worked there under my grandfather, now own a small part of the company. Everyone knows this. It’s what brought our town back to life.
Mom won’t look at me. She won’t join the conversation. And I can’t help but feel irritated that Dr. Winston is drawing this out.
“I know all of this. I just need you to tell me what Dad did,” I say.
Dr. Winston’s hands drop to his lap and he sits up a little straighter. “I’m trying to put this in context so you understand just how badly your father devastated your town. There are over two hundred people employed by Louisiana Frac…who own stock with Louisiana Frac.”
Devastated my town? I’m out of the chair and pacing in a tight circle in front of his desk, silently begging for him to get to the point.
Dr. Winston rubs a hand across his mouth. “But your father has deceived the employees who worked so hard and invested so much to help build that company.”
I’m shaking my head.
“Even though the company was making more money than it ever had, your father didn’t manage it well. Not at all. In fact, it’s more than that. There are accusations of embezzlement, hiding debt, nonpayment to suppliers, and environmental complaints.”
I stop in front of his desk and say, “I don’t believe my dad would do that.”
Dr. Winston tilts his head to the side. “Well, there are several government agencies that believe he did. Your dad has disappeared and so has all of the money—the money from the bank accounts, the money from the employees’ pensions, every last cent. It’s estimated your dad ran off with millions. And not only have the employees lost their retirement money and are out of a job, they’re also left holding stock in a company that is completely worthless. As of right now, Louisiana Frac is closed for business.”
I wait for the rest of it. The part where all of this makes sense. “You’re telling me that millions of dollars are gone and no one knows where it is and you think my dad did something wrong.”
Dr. Winston leans forward in his chair and looks at me like I’m stupid. Or deaf. “Have you not been paying attention to what I’ve been saying?”
“Someone does know where it is,” Mom says in a quiet voice, finally joining the conversation. “Your father. But he’s gone, too.”
“There has to be a mistake.”
Her eyes find mine. “There’s no mistake. I promise you, Owen, it’s bad. It’s worse than bad.”
No. This is wrong. They have it wrong. “Maybe it was someone else. Maybe he was set up,” I say.
“The authorities do believe there was someone else involved. No one believes he pulled this off without help, but they don’t know who was helping him,” Dr. Winston says, then throws a glance at Mom.
And Mom flinches like his comment actually hit her.
I can’t hear this. I can’t listen to this anymore. I have to get out of here. “Okay. Okay. Well, I’ll go back to class now.”
Mom puts her hand out, stopping me. A sliver of her usual confidence slipping into place. Something I haven’t seen since I walked into the room. “I don’t think you understand. You can’t stay here.”
Shaking my head, I say, “Of course I can. I haven’t done anything wrong. Whatever is going on with him…is on him. Not me.” If I can’t stay here, I have to go home. No…not home. I’ll have to go back to Lake Cane. But that isn’t my home anymore. This school is. Sutton’s has been my home since I was eleven years old.
I can’t leave.
She stands and moves toward me but every step forward, I take one away from her. I can’t look at her.
“You have to come home. There’s no money for your tuition. There’s no money for anything. Everything we had has been seized.”
“No. This isn’t right. There has to be some mistake.” I take a step back and let out an unexpected laugh. “Did Jack do this? Oh, man. I’ve got to hand it to him. This is beyond any prank we’ve ever pulled. That has to be what this is.”
Mom shakes her head slowly, back and forth. “This is no prank. And Jack has nothing to do with this. This is real. The things your father has done are real.”
I want nothing more than to scream at her to stop lying. Dad wouldn’t do this.
Turning to Dr. Winston,
I say, “You have to let me stay. Surely, we’ve given you enough money over the years that you can let me stay.”
Dr. Winston gives this bullshit expression like he feels bad for me. “It’s not that simple, Owen.”
“You can’t stay here,” Mom interrupts. “Your father used other people’s money to send you to this school. And he used it to pay for all of the vacations and our home and our cars and jewelry. Everything we have was stolen from someone else. You can’t stay here. I won’t let you.”
There’s a knock on the door just before it opens. An older man pops his head inside and says, “Everything is loaded so I’m ready when you are.”
Mom nods and thanks him just before he shuts the door.
“Who was that?” I ask. “And what does he mean, ‘Everything is loaded’?”
“Dr. Winston? Can you give us a minute, please?” she asks. Dr. Winston nods, then leaves us alone in his office. She drops back down in the seat I just vacated. “That was Detective Hill. He’s handling your dad’s case. I don’t think you understand how bad this is. Your father has disappeared but there are many people looking for him, including the local police, FBI, EPA, and IRS. And they are looking at me, wondering if I knew what he was doing since I worked there with him. They think I was in on it or I know where he is….”
I lean against the wall, trying to absorb what she’s saying.
“Detective Hill is along to make sure I come back. And to make sure your dad wasn’t planning on meeting us here,” she finishes quietly, then stands up and seems to be all business now. “They’ve already packed your room and apparently everything is loaded in the car. News of what he did is going public today. I thought it would be best for you to leave school before that happens so you wouldn’t have to suffer any embarrassment in front of your friends.”
“Just because I’m not here doesn’t mean this won’t be embarrassing.”
Her hand rests on my shoulder. “This is going to be horrible for us both, but we have to remember, we didn’t do anything wrong.”
“I can’t believe this is happening. Why did he do this?” I ask.
“I wish I knew. I’d like to think the first thing I’d do is ask him that but I’m afraid I would probably punch him instead.”
The Lying Woods Page 1