The Lying Woods


By Ashley Elston

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$9.99 CAD

This item is a preorder. Your payment method will be charged immediately, and the product is expected to ship on or around November 4, 2018. This date is subject to change due to shipping delays beyond our control.

This atmospheric, multi-generational YA drama set in rural Louisiana will ensnare both teen and adult readers who like complex family relationships and high-stake mysteries.

Owen Foster has never wanted for anything. Then his mother shows up at his elite New Orleans boarding school cradling a bombshell: his privileged life has been funded by stolen money. After using the family business, the single largest employer in his small Louisiana town, to embezzle millions and drain the employees' retirement accounts, Owen's father vanished without a trace, leaving Owen and his mother to deal with the fallout.
Owen returns to Lake Cane to finish his senior year, where people he hardly remembers despise him for his father's crimes. It's bad enough dealing with muttered insults and glares, but when Owen and his mother receive increasingly frightening threats from someone out for revenge, he knows he must get to the bottom of what really happened at Louisiana Frac…and the cryptic note his father sent him at his boarding school days before disappearing.
Owen's only refuge is the sprawling, isolated pecan orchard he works at after school, owned by a man named Gus who has his own secrets–and in some ways seems to know Owen better than he knows himself. As Owen uncovers a terrible injustice that looms over the same Preacher Woods he's claimed as his own, he must face a shocking truth about his past–and write a better future.


For Miller, Ross, and Archer

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.


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.


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 something 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.”

She laughs quietly but it doesn’t seem real. Nothing seems real.

“Do you know where he is? Have you talked to him?”

Shaking her head, she says, “No.”

“When did he disappear?” I still don’t believe he left willingly. There has to be an explanation for this. Something that makes this make sense.

“A couple of weeks ago,” she whispers.

I push my chair, almost flipping it all the way over. “And you’re just now telling me? You didn’t think I should know about this sooner?”

“I didn’t know what to do!” she yells. “I still don’t. And I was hoping he would show up with some sort of explanation. I was hoping you would never have to find out what a coward and crook he is!”

Dr. Winston’s head appears in the small window on his door. As much as I hate her screaming at me it’s better than her blank expression earlier. She gives him a small wave, letting him know it’s fine, but we’re anything but fine.

“Owen, your dad was really stressed out but he wouldn’t talk about it. He wouldn’t talk to me no matter how many times I asked him what was wrong. The last time I saw him he was working late at the office. I haven’t seen or heard from him since.”

I nod but don’t ask anything else.

Her eyes flash to the door again. “It’s time to go.”

“Give me a minute, please.”

Mom nods and leaves the office but I don’t move. While my mind races through everything she just told me, my hand slides into the front pocket of my backpack and pulls out a folded piece of paper I received in yesterday’s mail on Dad’s letterhead:

Hope things are going well at school. Just checking in on you. Thanksgiving break is coming up so you’ll be home soon. Found a new place right outside of town called Frank’s. Best burger around. They run a special on Wednesday nights. Maybe when you’re in town during your break, we can check it out. It would be a great place to have dinner with your dad.


The news breaks when we’re about thirty miles outside of Baton Rouge. We stop at a Denny’s for a late lunch since neither of us had eaten breakfast and there are still a few hours on the road until we get home.

I’m not sure why I didn’t tell Mom about the note. It’s vague. He mentions my Thanksgiving break, which—if I was still enrolled in Sutton’s—would start on the Wednesday before Thanksgiving. Is he trying to tell me he’ll be at this place called Frank’s on that Wednesday night? I have no idea why he’d want to meet up with me and not Mom, but for now I’m keeping it to myself.

Since I was eleven, I’ve only seen my dad on holidays, summer break, and the occasional parents’ weekend at school. But even before that, he wasn’t around as much as I wanted him to be. Work consumed him. It was his first love, the thing that got all of his attention and time, the thing he was the most scared to lose.

He told me all the time how he hadn’t come from money so everything was sweeter now that he had it. And even though I didn’t see him as much as I wanted to, he was generous with things: trips, cars, toys.

I’d like to think I know him. Know he wouldn’t do this. Know he’s not a thief. But the truth is, I know he would do anything to maintain our lifestyle. Anything.

I pull up the information for the restaurant on my phone and discover it’s in the next town over from Lake Cane and the special on Wednesday night is two-for-one burgers starting at five. It’s too close not to take the chance that he’s sending me some sort of message.

“You’re not touching your food,” Mom says.

I nod toward her plate. “You’re not touching yours, either.”

We sit in silence. I push the mashed potatoes and gravy around until it’s a soupy mess, mentally calculating what I would be doing at Sutton’s if this hadn’t happened. I’d be in English with Jack and Ray, thinking about lunch and practice after school and making plans for the weekend. My life is at Sutton’s. My life is in New Orleans.

“Did you even think about what I’m missing at school? I had a cross-country meet this Saturday where I could have qualified for state. And lacrosse practice starts next week. And what about college? I’m in the middle of applications.”

“I’m really sorry, Owen,” she whispers.

“And what about my friends? It’s not like they can just come over to visit.”

Jack’s family lives in Houston, where his dad runs a huge oil and gas company. I know Jack’s dad did business with my dad on wells in this area, but I haven’t heard if Dad screwed him, too. Ray is from New Orleans so even when he’s not at school, he’s still in the city. His dad is a sax player and his mom sings backup vocals for a jazz band and they’re on tour more than they’re at home, which is how he ended up in a boarding school in his hometown. Sai’s family moved from Mumbai to Atlanta, where his dad is a neurosurgeon, and his family flies him home as often as they can.

Sutton’s is our common ground. It’s not like it would be easy for them to visit me or for me to see them.

“I’m sure we can figure out a way for y’all to get together,” she says.

The TV in the corner of the room is on mute but it might as well be screaming through the room. An image pops up on the screen and my stomach drops. It’s a picture of Dad and me with a little blurry spot over my face. We’re both behind the wheel of the huge sailboat we rented for spring break last year in the Caribbean. The caption reads: Louisiana CEO defrauds employees of millions, devastates small town and underneath it says, The Louisiana Enron?

“Can we go?” I ask but don’t wait for an answer. I’m out of my chair and halfway to the car before Mom catches up.

“Owen, wait. You can’t run off like this.”

I spin around, the gravel from the parking lot spraying in an arc behind me. “Do you believe he did it?”

Her shoulders slump and whatever fight she has left seems to bleed right out of her. “Everything points to him doing it. Everything.”

I close the distance, my face close to hers. “But do you believe it?”

“I do. He’s gone, Owen. Why would he run off if he didn’t do it?”

I back away from her. Back away until my back hits the detective’s Suburban. And then I notice him, several feet away. It’s hard to make out his expression behind the mirrored sunglasses but it’s close to pity. And I hate it.

“Owen, there hasn’t been a mistake. There isn’t anyone setting your dad up. He’s not an innocent victim in this. He stole money from the people who worked for him. And then he ran.”

The metal of the Suburban is warm, but it doesn’t penetrate the cold that has settled inside me. I think about the note, torn into tiny pieces and buried in the diner’s bathroom trash can. He owes us answers. He owes us the truth.

And if there’s a chance he’s going to be at that restaurant in fifteen days, then I will be there, too.

• • •

I’m not sure where I was expecting we would stay when we got to Lake Cane since Mom told me our house had been seized, but I’m shocked when we pull up to Aunt Lucinda’s house.

“We’re staying here?” I ask.

“Yes. And we’re lucky she took us in,” Mom grinds out.

I jump out of the car when it stops and move to the back, wanting to get my things before Detective Hill has a chance to help, but he’s faster than I thought. He removes two of the boxes while I grab my big duffel.

He nods to the cross-country trophy that’s sticking out of one of the boxes.


  • "Elston... channels E. Lockhart as she overlays an eerie, mysterious atmosphere on top of a riveting family drama spanning decades... Family secrets and forgiveness drive this gorgeously plotted mystery.
  • *"This is a mystery that introduces characters slowly, with a thoughtful alternating story line and backstory that allows the plot to maintain its pace. Owen's frustration and actions, along with the people whose futures were destroyed by his father, are understandable and build to a satisfying conclusion."—School Library Journal (starred review)
  • "The intergenerational plot complicates the adults in the story, resisting typical YA stereotypes and giving Owen some adults worthy of the trust and affection he invests in them. Readers who enjoy a realistic mystery based on contemporary family dynamics and small-town class conflicts are the audience for this."—BCCB
  • Accolades
    Teenreads' Teen Choice Book Award 2019, nominee
    BNTeen: Our Most Anticipated Contemporary YA Novels of 2018: July to December (selection)
    Hypable: Fall 2018 movies, TV, and book release dates that need to be on your calendar (selection)
    BookRiot: 125+ Upcoming YA Books You'll Want on Your October to December Radar, selection (2018)
    BNTeen: 21 of November's Best New Young Adult Books, selection (2018)
    Hypable: Our most-anticipated November 2018 YA book releases, selection
    Bookish: November Book Club Picks: One-Child Policy, Embezzlement, and an Unlikely Serial Killer, selection (2018)
    BNTeen: November's Best New YA Books, selection (2018)
    BookRiot: 3 on a YA Theme: Books for Your November Holds List, selection (2018)
  • "Elston has masterfully plotted this story out and the way everything wraps up is incredibly satisfying. The Lying Woods is an exciting novel perfect for fans of contemporary mystery.... Sure to keep you on your toes."
  • *"Fans who have come to expect Elston's mastery of situational tension, double narratives, and enthralling mystery will not be disappointed with this newest tale that alternates between past and present perspectives as it barrels toward a stunning reveal... Readers won't even notice the steady pull to the edges of their seats."—(starred review)
  • "A blisteringly quick read, thanks to its compelling story and nonstop surprises."

On Sale
Nov 4, 2018
Page Count
336 pages

Ashley Elston

About the Author

Ashley Elston is the author of several novels including: The Rules for Disappearing (a finalist in the Best Young Adult Novel category of the International Thriller Writers Thriller Awards) and This Is Our Story. She has a liberal arts degree from Louisiana State University in Shreveport and worked for many years as a wedding photographer before turning her hand to writing. Ashley lives in Shreveport with her husband and three sons. For more information about Ashley and her books, please visit

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