Excerpt from What Lies in the Woods by Kate Alice Marshall, plus links to reviews, author biography & more

They told the story again and again, until they thought they owned it.

We tried to forget. We didn't tell the story.

Not the real one.

Not ever.

1

I tried to appear attentive as the couple across from me flipped through the binder of photographs, murmuring appreciatively. Normally, I'd say it was a good sign—except for the telltale tension in the bride-to-be's shoulders, and the way her eyes kept darting up to my face when she thought I wasn't looking.

My phone, facedown on the table, vibrated. I pressed the button to silence it without picking it up, resisting the urge to check who was calling.

"Your portfolio is really, really impressive," the bride said, fiddling with the edge of her paper napkin. "Really."

"I'm glad to hear that," I replied, mentally calculating how much I'd just lost on gas by agreeing to this meeting. I should have known better. The groom being the one to contact me, the way he'd specified, I showed Maddie some of your photos, when I asked if she'd seen the website.

"It's just," she began, and stopped. Her husband-to-be, an earnest-looking young man with a chin dimple and too much hair gel, put a hand on her wrist.

"Babe, it's exactly what you were looking for. You're always complaining about washed-out photos. You wanted someone who isn't afraid of color."

My phone started buzzing again. "Sorry about that," I said, picking it up to check the caller ID. Liv. I declined the call again and tucked it into my purse. Whatever the latest crisis was, and it was always a crisis, she'd have to wait a few minutes more.

"It's just," the bride said again. She bit her lip. "I'm sorry, I don't want to sound totally awful. Your photos are really, really—"

"Impressive," I finished for her, smiling. When I smiled, only one side of my mouth went up. She flinched.

"Come on, Maddie," Husband-to-Be said—I couldn't remember his name. It was probably Jason. It was usually Jason, for some reason. The ones who trotted me out like a surprise, as if to shame their partners into hiring me. It had mostly stopped happening since I tripled my prices, which magically turned my scars from a pitiable flaw to part of my edgy appeal.

"It's all right," I assured him. "It's your wedding day, Maddie. Everything should be perfect."

"Right," she said, relieved that I understood.

"And if anyone isn't perfect, you shouldn't have to have them there," I added. Her smile faltered.

"Your prices are very high," she snapped, turning pink. "Maybe you should consider lowering them. You might get more business."

I sighed. "My prices are high because my work is really, really good," I said, parroting her words back to her. "I make sure that my photo is front and center on my website because I don't want anyone to waste their time or mine. And now we've done both."

I stood, picking up the binder. My coffee sat untouched on the table, but I had only ordered it to kill time while I was waiting for them to show up twenty minutes late. "I hope you have the wedding of your dreams, Maddie. Jason, nice to meet you."

"My name's Jackson, actually," he muttered, not lifting his eyes past my chin. As I walked away I heard him whispering furiously to her. Just as the door swung shut, she burst into tears. I stopped on the sidewalk and shut my eyes, letting out a breath and telling myself to relax the muscles that had slowly tightened throughout my body.

The only thing worse than brides like Maddie was getting to the meeting only to discover that the client was a "fan." Not of my photos, of course. Of the dramatic story my life had become when I was eleven years old.

I pulled my phone out of my purse. Liv hadn't left a message, but that wasn't surprising. She hated being recorded. We'd spent enough time with cameras shoved in our faces, and the clips still lived on the internet under names like GIRLS FOIL SERIAL KILLER IN OLYMPIC FOREST and SURVIVORS OF "QUINAULT KILLER" ALAN MICHAEL STAHL SPEAK OUT.

Excerpted from What Lies in the Woods by Kate Alice Marshall. Copyright © 2023 by Kate Alice Marshall. Excerpted by permission of Flatiron Books. All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.