Chapter 1 (Ocean of Lies)

Sydney Davis wasn’t her real name. She’d used it for eight years, long enough that she was used to it, but there were still moments when it felt foreign. Moments when someone called out to her and she didn’t remember to respond until the second time, or a moment like the one she was currently experiencing when she handed her ID to the guard and he shot her a tight smile.

“Does Mr. Davis know you’ve been coming this way, Sydney?” He was the same man on patrol when she left the gated city last weekend, wearing the same light gray uniform with a pistol tucked into his holster. Sydney kept her hands wrapped tightly around the steering wheel. Between the iron bars of the gate in front of her, city lights flickered in the high-rises more than ten miles away. 

“I don’t think that’s any of your business, man,” Callie, Sydney’s step-sister, said from the passenger’s seat as she flipped her dirty blonde hair over her shoulder. “Or his.” 

The man sighed before walking back to his computer in the guard station to run their IDs, as he did every time. “Be careful,” he warned as he handed them back to Sydney. 

“Always,” Callie replied. 

Sydney let out a breath as the gate opened. She pushed on the gas, gently moving the car forward until the guard and the wall were a tiny speck in her rearview mirror. As she drove down the hill, Sydney kept her eyes on the road to stay straight on the uneven pavement. 

“God, how annoying,” Callie said with a huff as she leaned further back into the leather cushion, her skinny arms crossed in front of her chest. “They act like we’re going into a warzone or something.” 

Sydney nodded, frowning. At age twenty-two, she was still surprised when a guard gave them a hard time for leaving the wealthy city of Heatherwood. Rutland was the only other city within fifty miles in this part of Maine, and they’d ventured to it several times in the past six months, each time in search of adventure. The gates around Heatherwood were starting to feel like a prison, and they wanted out. 

Callie’s manicured hand reached out to the stereo, pressing a couple of buttons on the touchscreen to turn the volume up. She sat up in her seat, a smile on her face as she bobbed her head to the pop beat. As soon as the chorus hit, she belted out the lyrics without reserve, her hands moving wildly to emphasize each word in between fist bumps. Sydney laughed at the show; car rides were never boring with Callie in the passenger’s seat. 

Her moves didn’t fade until they approached the city limits. Sydney scanned the broken-down houses in the cul-de-sac at the edge of the trees, looking at everything from the weed overgrowth on the front lawns to the boarded-up windows to the trash scattered along the front porches. Two cars were parked along the street, their paint starting to rust. 

After passing through the University of Rutland, they approached The Liberty Bar. It was a favorite of theirs since discovering it several weeks ago, and they enjoyed that most of the clientele on Friday nights were students and other people their age. It was one of the nicest bars in Rutland thanks to its well-lit outdoor area, clean wooden tables, and its proximity to a new apartment complex with a large billboard advertising special deals for university students. 

Sydney parked in a semi-empty lot across the street and locked the car before leading Callie to the entrance. After grabbing a drink, she surveyed the room, the scent of cigarettes and stale beer wafting around her nose. Packs of people chatted away, drinks in hand, several of them clearly underage with their cherub faces. The guys mostly wore jeans and T-shirts, while the girls had gone all out with dark makeup and flawless hairstyles. They huddled in fluid groups that expanded and shrunk as people came and went. With friendly demeanors and shouts across the room, everyone seemed to know each other. 

“Stop frowning,” Callie ordered. 

Sydney glared at Callie as she took a sip of her white wine. “I’m not.” 

“Yes, you are.” Callie sighed. “We can go back to that stuffy Heatherwood bar if you want to.” 

Sydney grimaced as she pictured the crystal glasses and elaborate garnishes of the lounge they visited when they wanted to stay close to home. The same people were there every weekend, talking about the same drama, getting too drunk to drive but doing it anyway, and throwing around money like it grew on trees. It annoyed her in a way most things in Heatherwood did.

“No. I’m fine. I just wish I stopped at home first,” Sydney said as she clutched her purse closer to her body, wishing it had the weight of the weapon she almost always left Heatherwood with. Instead of grabbing it, she’d gone straight from her tutoring job to pick up Callie from a friend’s house on the other side of town.

“I’m glad you didn’t. If we’re gonna ever leave the Hill for good, we gotta stop being so afraid.”

Heatherwood, a.k.a. the Hill, sat at a higher elevation than Rutland. It was fitting, really, since the residents of the Hill often looked down on anyone from the other side of the wall. Despite Heatherwood’s greed, it was safe, as her father often reminded her. It was gated. It didn’t let unregistered people in. Sydney knew what could happen on an empty street at night. Danger could be lurking just around the corner, the same kind that took her mother all those years ago. 

“You’re right. It’s fine,” Sydney agreed as she searched the bar for a friendly face. Even though this wasn’t their first visit, she still didn’t recognize many people. The bartenders, yes, but their hard expressions never seemed friendly enough to strike up a conversation.

Sitting in the far corner of the bar facing the door was a guy in his mid-twenties. She’d seen him once or twice before; he was tall, with dark hair and a stoic expression that never seemed to flicker, even as people chatted around him. 

When his gaze met hers through the crowd, Sydney’s cheeks flushed, and he lingered on her for a moment before he focused back on the door. 

“He’s here again, huh?” Callie smirked.

Sydney shrugged. “Guess so.” 

“Let’s talk to him.” 

“Why?” 

“I see him looking at you. He’s hot.” 

“In a don’t-talk-to-me-or-I’ll-kill-you sort of way,” Sydney retorted. His all-black outfit fit his form so well, it almost appeared tailored to his broad shoulders. She swallowed a sip of wine before looking back at Callie. Maybe he was attractive, but in a rugged, intimidating sort of way she wasn’t normally into. 

“Don’t be so dramatic.” She rolled her eyes and took a big gulp of her margarita. “Come with me.”

Callie grabbed Sydney’s arm before she could protest and dragged her through the crowd. The guy didn’t look over until Callie plopped on the stool next to him, and Sydney stood awkwardly beside them, clinging to her wine like it was the only thing keeping her alive.

“What’s your name?” Callie asked, cutting straight to the point as she flicked her hair back.

“Luke.” He took a sip of his beer. 

“I’m Callie, and this is Sydney.” He didn’t look at her, and Sydney guessed he’d forget their names the second they walked away. Just because they recognized him didn’t mean it went both ways. “You from around here?” 

“Yes.” He turned to Sydney, though she still hadn’t said a word. 

“We aren’t, though you probably knew that, huh?” Callie tilted her head.

“Heatherwood, I’m guessing?” 

“The one and only!”

“What brings you here?”

“Oh, ya know…life. We could use a tour guide if you know anybody. We’re still trying to get our bearings.”

There it was. Sydney stifled a groan at Callie’s suggestion, even though she was used to her step-sister’s bold flirtation. 

“Sorry. Can’t help you,” Luke said as he took another sip of beer. When he set the bottle back down on the bar, his muscles flexed, revealing thick veins snaking through his skin. Sydney’s cheeks flushed as she stared at his tan forearm for a second too long. 

“Didn’t think so. We’ll see you around then!” Callie said brightly before dragging Sydney back to their table. When they sat, she spoke in a low voice. “What an ass.” 

Sydney let out a short laugh. “You didn’t pick the friendliest-looking person.” 

“You know I love a challenge.” Callie played with the straw of her drink, making the ice clink against the glass. “Don’t worry; the night’s still young.” 

“Yeah,” Sydney trailed off, observing the other groups of people before sighing. They all had their groups, their friends, their cliques. She and Callie were still outsiders and always would be as long as they ran back up the hill after every outing. “When will this get easier, Cal?” 

“It will. It’s already a lot better than that first weekend, right?” 

Sydney thought back to the Irish pub they had visited six months ago. It wasn’t as nice as this, or as young. They had spent twenty minutes nursing a beer before they got sick of the glares and headed home. One of Sydney’s students mentioned The Liberty Bar three weeks ago and, after giving it a try, they decided to come back the next two weekends. The crowd was young, welcoming. Each time they visited, they made a new friend—usually only one, but it was something. 

“Yes.” Sydney shook her shoulders, trying to get rid of the anxiety from the previous interaction. The way Luke had been looking at them was glued to her mind—his frown, his displeasure, his judgment. As often as she noticed that kind of expression directed at her, it bothered her more coming from him. She couldn’t remember the last time a guy had rejected them so callously.

“Come on. Let’s try again,” Callie said before she spent the next fifteen minutes scoping out people to talk to. Some guys approached the table, but she waved them off and instead found a group of girls. One with a pixie cut and an easy smile conversed with Callie about everything from tennis to vodka to popular artists while another girl with bright red lips and an oversized T-shirt, whom Sydney recognized from a previous weekend, bought them shots.

At first, Sydney’s attention ebbed and flowed. She hadn’t realized she was keeping tabs on Luke until he got up from the bar and left not long after their conversation. Since then, she’d occasionally glanced back at his empty seat to see if he’d reappear, but he didn’t. He was gone. 

After giving up hope of seeing him again, the time slid by as they chatted and drank. It was an hour, then two, then almost three. Sydney joined in on the group’s jokes, letting the alcohol loosen her inhibitions. She asked questions, laughed, and had fun with a group of girls. 

 At midnight, Sydney decided it was time to go home. 

 After exchanging numbers with her new friends, Callie took a long swig of water and slid over to Sydney’s side. They left arm in arm, jackets zipped tight as they stepped outside. Her car sat in the parking lot across the street, nestled between two sedans that had been there when they arrived. 

A group of men chatted at the entrance of the bar behind them, the smoke from their cigarettes clouding up the night sky. After looking both ways, she laughed at one of Callie’s jokes and stepped with her onto the road.

A street light flickered above them, barely illuminating the tilted sidewalk and the trash accumulating on the curb. 

Footsteps shuffled nearby. Loud. Heavy. Close. 

Sydney searched the parking lot, her laughter dying as she scanned the rows of cars for anyone walking between them. It took her too long to notice the sound was coming from behind her, not in front. 

Then, a fist knocked into Sydney’s head, pushing her crumbled body onto the ground.

For more info and to order, check out my books page!