If You Lie: A Thriller
Caleb Stephens
Publication date: November 1st 2024
Genres: Adult, Thriller
A buried past. A new-age cult. A floating prison with no way off.
Seven years ago, Olivia woke up in the trunk of a stranger’s car—and barely escaped with her life. She’s been looking over her shoulder ever since.
Now, Olivia is a true-crime podcaster on a mission to help other women avoid her fate. But years spent covering violence and crime have left her burned out. So when Olivia’s estranged sister Quinn invites her to reconnect on an exclusive cruise, she jumps at the chance for a break…only this trip won’t be the relaxing vacation she’s hoping for.
The ship is elegant, the meals are divine, and the people are friendly—maybe too friendly. But Quinn isn’t the sister Olivia remembers. And strange things are starting to happen that echo Olivia’s past in unsettling ways.
When someone on the ship goes missing, Olivia realizes she’s playing a dangerous game of cat and mouse. Only this time, she might not survive.
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EXCERPT:
Sounds came.
The steady ping of rain drumming against steel.
The muted whoosh of wind. The high whine of rubber kissing asphalt.
I was moving.
Why am I moving?
Air clawed up my throat and slid back down again—slowly, painfully—my lungs pulling harder than my esophagus would allow, my chest rising and falling in uneven shifts. I couldn’t breathe.
I should be able to—
My eyelids snapped open to darkness. Pure black. I tried to scream and couldn’t. My voice was gone, lost in my burning throat. Another sound came instead—this one closer, directly overhead.
Clack. Clack. Clack.
I raised my hands and brushed a loose rod, then pushed past it and felt cool metal press against my palm. I followed it lower, the metal curving behind my head until it terminated in a rubber seal.
A car, I thought. I’m in a trunk.
Oh, God …
Oh, fuck.
It’s why my knees were jammed in a fetal position, why a rough pad of carpet burned against my cheek and scratched my neck. A shot of cold panic swam down my spine. Time stuttered, and I wheezed for oxygen. It felt like I was breathing through a straw. I was going to pass out if I didn’t get it together and fast.
Focus, Olivia. Stay calm.
And then: He thinks I’m dead.
It’s why my hands weren’t bound, why my mouth wasn’t gagged. It’s why my ankles weren’t slung in an interstate of knots. The man who’d done this to me thought I was dead. I could still feel his fingers squeezing, digging into my neck, could still hear his voice burning hot in my ear.
Fucking die, already!
Those words pouring over me in a shower of sour breath.
Clack. C-Clack. Clack.
Think, Olivia! You have to think!
I slowed my breathing and forced my mind to calm. There had to be a way to open the trunk or signal another car. A wire to rip free from the brake lights or a latch to pop. Didn’t all the newer cars have those specifically for situations like this? For women who, like me, simply disappeared?
And I would disappear if I didn’t find a way to get out.
My heart sloshed in my chest, and I rolled to my right, toward the sidewall of the trunk, and extended an arm. My fingers brushed over objects I recognized. Jumper cables, and a can of gas. Coiled rope and boxes. A hard plastic case. Duct tape. Nothing else.
Jesus, no latch.
I tried the other side, muttering a prayer as my hands crawled through a graveyard of clinking bottles, my fingers scraping over the dry brush of cardboard and through the crinkle of plastic sacks. Dust tickled the back of my nose, and I nearly unleashed a sneeze before I bit it off. Don’t! He’ll hear you. Then I tried again, moving slower this time, feeling for what had to be there.
And it was—nestled a few inches above the floor of the trunk.
A trunk release. A lever to pull.
Reality wobbled. My heart fluttered and crashed.
Work, I thought. Please, God, work.
I pulled.
There came a click, and the world exploded into a fireball of light. A gray sky moved above me, swollen with thunderheads, trees sweeping past on either side. Headlights coasted behind the car in a sea of rushing metal. Cold rain lashed against my neck. I forced myself upright, and the brakes slammed and sent me hurtling backward as the car screeched to a stop.
Move! Move! Move!
I scrambled from the trunk.
One foot connected with the ground. The other slipped. I crashed to the road, and the sound of rain filled my ears along with the heavy thunk of a door opening. Two boots hit asphalt.
His boots.
Air scabbed over my lips. The world swam.
Go! I pushed myself upright—and I ran. Across the white line on the shoulder of the road and into traffic with brakes shrieking all around me. Horns tearing past. Rain pelting my face. Wind hissing in my ears. Behind me came a full-throat roar.
“Stop, you fucking bitch!”
My lungs burned for air, everything smearing to a blur.
“I said, stop!” Louder this time. Closer.
But I didn’t stop, couldn’t stop. I kept running—pushing through the fire in my chest, ignoring the pain in my throat—until I stumbled off the road and tumbled down a grass-slicked descent.
Rolling now. Everything spinning. Gasping for air.
I splashed into a pool of muddy water and came up coughing, wiping my eyes to a sight that filled me with terror. The man stood above me on the hill, looking down with one hand balled into a fist and the other holding a knife.
You’re dead, I thought. He’s going to kill you.
A cloud of blue and red light rose behind him followed by a voice. “Remain where you are! Drop the knife!”
But the man didn’t. He just stared down at me with his breath turning to mist.
And took a step. Took another.
Then the gunshots rang out.
Author Bio:
Caleb Stephens is an award-winning author writing from Denver, Colorado. His novels include the thrillers If You Lie, The Girls in the Cabin, and Feeders, as well as the darkly humorous urban fantasy novel, Soul Couriers, which is forthcoming in 2025. His fiction collection If Only a Heart and Other Tales of Terror includes the short story “The Wallpaper Man,” which was adapted to film by Falconer Film & Media in 2022. He's hard at work writing his next thriller.
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