As a thank you to readers and the Sacramento Book Festival, I’m sharing the first chapter of The Lie She Wears, my most recent thriller, for one week only. Read it here anytime until April 26, 2026.
Like what you read? Then consider buying your copy from a local bookstore, like Sacramento favorite Capital Books on K, Bookshop.org, or borrowing from your library.
Chapter One
SALLY
Shadows stretch across my yard like tentacles reaching for the keys that slap my thigh. I have to
get out of here.
“Hey! Sally! Where are you going?” Zelda pants from the doorframe, pausing from chasing
me through my own home. A syringe is clutched tight in her fist. “Sally!”
I rip open the door to my SUV, then climb inside. Before I slam it shut, Zelda stumbles from
the steps. She reaches out a hand, willing me to return.
“No worries, no problem,” I call to her. “Stretching my head. I mean, just need to clear my
head.”
“Sally, don’t do this. We can talk about the injection. Come back inside.”
I hit the ignition button. “Will do. Be in a jiffy. Heading to the Wishing Tree.”
Word salad spills from my mouth, and I know I need to tie up loose ends before my brain gets
any worse.
I lift a hand, wave goodbye to Zelda and her looming scowl, then disappear down the dark
road.
When I’m a mile away from home, from the windows that I always meant to cover with
curtains or blinds but never did because I felt safe, I inhale the deepest breath I can manage. Then
another. When I begin to border on lightheaded, I relax.
Everything is fine. There’s no one following me. Whoever has been watching me isn’t right
now.
Past the sprawling maple tree that marks the end of the residential neighborhood and the
beginning of the wineries that dot the valley, a shadow steps from the dirt shoulder into my lane.
I slam on my brakes, swerve across the road to miss the figure, then lose control of the car. I
crash into the ditch opposite my lane, the hood bucking against the uneven terrain.
A white bag bursts from my steering wheel, snapping my head backward, while my chest
seizes.
No, my heart.
Sharp pain pinwheels out from my ribs, and I clutch at my skin. Crush my eyelids shut tight,
then open them to see the figure approaching in the twilight darkness.
My lungs constrict as I gasp for air—stare, as the person’s face becomes clear. The figure who
has been following me. The monster from my nightmares finally catching me alone.
Tall yellow grass of the adjacent lot bends in the evening wind, illuminated by my headlights,
as terror spirals across my body. Then my mind screams the words I know you.