“What’s this?”
“It’s Friday night in Whisper Falls,” she says. “That means football.”
I watch as people of all ages exit their cars and migrate toward the stadium. This is her joke. She’s tricked me into thinking we’re having a proper night out. She must sense how much I’m craving excitement, and clearly this isn’t it.
“I thought you were showing me around town.”
Regina unbuckles her seat belt. “Trust me. Everything you need to know about Whisper Falls you can find out here.” She exits the car, poking her head back inside. “You coming?”
The announcer’s voice booms louder as we make our way to the gate, the cool breeze tangling my hair. When we reach the ticket booth, Regina flashes a laminate card and the man working the gate waves her in.
“What’s that?” I ask, looking at the card.
“We buy a family pass every season. We should get free admission considering the cash Mom donates to this place each year.” She slides the card back into her YSL wristlet and marches toward the concession stand. “Popcorn?”
“Not hungry,” I say, as an older man in a flannel jacket bumps against my shoulder. Regina purchases her concessions and finger waves to at least five people I’ve never seen before. Everyone knows her, which means they’re all looking at me, wondering who I am and already deciding I don’t belong.
As she walks away, Regina rams into a woman about our age wearing a handmade T-shirt and leggings. Her blonde curls are stiff and scrunched, a hairstyle I’ve seen at least three times since entering the gate. When she recognizes Regina as the person who knocked her shoulder, she scowls.
“Sorry, Bridgette,” Regina says, avoiding eye contact.
“Didn’t know you cared about football,” she says, one hand on her hip.
Regina nods at me. “I’m taking my sister-in-law around town. This is Cooper’s fiancée, Madison.”
“Nice to meet you,” I say, holding out a hand. Perhaps initiating a handshake will keep people from smothering me with unwanted physical affection. Bridgette doesn’t take it.
“Cooper’s fiancée?” She looks me up and down, her assessment noticeably more critical than Misty’s was earlier in the week. “I hope she can swim.”
It takes a second for her comment to register. She’s making a sick reference to Celia, the beautiful teenager who lost her life to the Whisper Lake tides. Within seconds, I transition from confusion to outrage. I’m about to speak, but Regina butts in.
“Oh, bite me, Bridgette,” she says, her dark hair jiggling with the shake of her head.
Bridgette winks. “I bet you’d love it if I did.”
Regina pushes past her, and I follow. “Who the hell was that?” I ask, after we’re a few steps away.
“Bridgette McCallister, née Rollins. Total skank. She slept with like half the basketball team my freshman year. She’s one of Celia’s old cheer buddies.”
Hearing Celia’s name is like a punch to the gut. For so long, she’s been this nonexistent being Coop and I avoid discussing. I forgot I’m in her world now, where people know more about her than I ever will. They likely know more about Coop, too.
We approach the field, which is surrounded by a black fence. The scoreboard reveals the second quarter is almost over and the Whisper Falls Wildcats are down seven points. I start walking to the bleachers, but Regina stops me.
“Where are you going?” she asks.
“Aren’t we here to watch the game?” If she hadn’t noticed my dissatisfaction yet, she does now.
“We’re here to watch people,” she says, leaning against the fence and facing the crowd. I dodge a family with small children climbing the concrete steps and stand beside her. “You’ve had the pleasure of meeting Bridgette. Expect to see her at every local event. She’s full of hometown pride. Gah, the only thing worse than peaking in high school is peaking in eighth grade.”
“Isn’t that a little harsh?”
“You heard what she just said, right? She hasn’t gotten any kinder with age.” She returns her attention to the crowd, unbothered. “You see the woman in the purple sweater with the black bob and glasses?”
My eyes follow her outstretched finger. The woman she’s brought to my attention is standing, holding a poster that reads Go Cats. I nod.
“That’s Kim Fuller. She’s the elementary school principal. She’s always posting inflammatory statements on social media. All this alt-right stuff to get people riled up. Her husband is sleeping with the school librarian, and everyone in town knows it but her.”
She turns and nods toward a man standing near a huddle of cheerleaders. “That’s Gary. He owns a car dealership and has a rap sheet a mile long. People say he’s a little too friendly with the teenagers, if you catch my drift. That’s why his second wife left him.”
I shake my head, struggling to connect faces to this influx of information. “Why are you telling me this?”
“You need to know things about people when you live in Whisper, otherwise you won’t know who to trust.” She sips through her straw and nods somewhere else. “The skinny guy with the faded letterman jacket? He’s a known CI for the cops.”
I only half-listen as Regina talks. I absorb my surroundings, trying to determine where I fit in amongst all these people. I wonder where Coop fits, too, or at least, how he once did. In his youth, was he an athletic idol storming the field? Did Celia cheer him on from the purple and black platform to my right? By the time Regina has pointed out a former stripper, a pill dealer and a disgraced policeman, I’ve had enough.
“Look, I didn’t come here for this,” I say, crossing my arms.
“Why did you come here?” And I can tell she’s not asking about the game. She’s talking about here. Whisper.
“Because I love Coop. We’re building a life together. I have no interest in these strangers’ secrets.”
She crinkles her nose. “Aren’t you, like, a writer or something? You dig up people’s dirt for a living.”
“I am a real journalist. I was a…” My frustrations prevent me from finishing. My skin burns hot, and not just from the large field lamp hovering overhead. “You know what? I’m leaving.”
Regina leans further into the fence. “Where are you going? It’s not like we have Uber.”
“I’ll figure it out.”
I march past the band as they rip a tune. The stadium chatter lessens as I re-enter the parking lot. It dawns on me I really am out of options. I hear footsteps behind me picking up pace and then see Regina, popcorn bag still in hand.
“Come on, city girl. You can’t call it a night yet.” She jingles her keys. “Let’s go. I’ve got another place to show you.”
We barely speak as she drives away from town and the paved streets turn to dust. Before long, the headlights stretch over Whisper Lake. She parks the car in a grassy spot by the water.
“If it were summer, I’d have all sorts of spots to show you,” she says. “The lake is the only part of Whisper that doesn’t irk me.”
“What are we doing now?” I feel like her game isn’t yet finished.
She pulls out a bottle of bourbon and clear cups that look like they’ve been lifted from a motel nightstand. “The only thing there is to do in Whisper. Drink and stare at nothing and talk shit.”
She pours a gulp’s worth into my cup and hands it over. I pause before downing the shot.
“Atta girl,” she says, stepping out of the car. I join her. A gust of wind blows past us, cooling the heat underneath my skin. We’re surrounded by darkness, the chirping of crickets in the trees and the sound of soft ripples in the nearby water.
“If you’re so miserable living in Whisper Falls, why don’t you just leave?” I ask. Clearly, she isn’t happy here, and after a week of isolation interspersed with clumsy introductions, I can see why.
“Some people have no choice but to stay.”
“I don’t buy that. You, your brothers… you have options. Education. Money. You
act like you’re being forced to stay. You’re not.”
“All that stuff comes attached to the purse strings. You think I’d be able to afford culinary school on my own? Or that Cooper would be able to run his own newspaper? It comes with being a Douglas. Even if it sucks sometimes, it’d be pointless to give all that up.”
I look across the lake, watching as the moon reflects on the water, a single cylinder of light. I’ve never felt more distant from Regina, or Coop. I can’t imagine what it’s like to be given what the rest of the world struggles to obtain, and still bottle such bitterness. It’s difficult to tell whether Regina likes me. More than anything, I think she’s been lonely for a long time, making it difficult for her to connect with anyone. The only reason she’s survived in this town is because she’s a Douglas, a fact we both know, and she resents.
“I really want to be happy here,” I admit. “I’m trying.”
“You’re different from the others.” For once, she looks sincere, pushing back the long black strands around her face. “I can tell you love Cooper, not just the dollar signs.”
“Were others after dollar signs?” I ask, wondering what she’s getting at. I’m well versed when it comes to Coop’s dating history, but I don’t know how many exes he’s introduced to his family.
“One or two.” She takes a big gulp. We both stare at the water, as if it’s pulling our gaze, forcing us to think. Asking us its questions.
“What was she like?” I ask.
“Who?”
“Celia.”
She smirks. “Hasn’t he told you?”
“He told me about what happened, not much else.” I wonder where on this lake her body was found. If it floated near the bank where we currently stand. “Do people bring her up a lot? Like Bridgette did tonight?”
“They usually aren’t so forward. Some people, like Bridgette, would rather relish in the drama.”
We’re silent for several seconds. There are questions I want to ask her, things I want to know. Things that, for whatever reason, Coop has never felt comfortable telling me.
“Like I said, he doesn’t talk about what happened.”
“Even if he did, he wouldn’t tell the truth.” She finishes her cup and clears her throat. “Celia was a wicked bitch.”
“Regina! She was a teenager who died.”
“So? Good people die every day.”
I roll my eyes at Regina’s boorish outlook. “How bad can someone be at seventeen?”
“Have you been seventeen?” She laughs, folding her arms across her chest. “Celia was cruel to everyone she ever met. Probably had her eyes set on Cooper since she was in elementary school. I don’t think he ever appreciated the bullet he dodged when she died.”
“Coop told me she was popular. That her death changed people.”
She laughs. “Told you he wouldn’t tell the truth. Celia was nothing like the saintly image this town has resurrected. You can’t believe everything you hear.”
It’s interesting how quickly Regina has dropped her earlier role as a gossipmonger. Only an hour ago, she delighted in telling me all her neighbors’ secrets. “Should I believe the things you said tonight? About Bridgette sleeping with half the basketball team?”
“Maybe.” She chuckles and takes another sip of her drink. “Thing is, I’ve never liked her. I couldn’t give two shits about her tarnished reputation. That’s what we do in Whisper. We choose our side and defend it to the death.”
I roll my eyes again. Regina will take some getting used to, but there’s truth in what she says. I think of Misty’s reaction to meeting me, praising my arrival, compared to Bridgette’s callous dismissal. This town certainly takes sides. I close my eyes and focus on the gentle sound of water lapping against the shore, trying not to let the ugliness of this place tarnish what beauty exists.
Six
June 16, 2006
Celia’s shift ended at six, when the lake closed to the public. People could still congregate there, and did, but they were no longer under the watchful eye of the Whisper Falls Guard. She put the whistle to her lips and blew, signaling to the remaining swimmers it was time to exit and find a spot further down the bank.
When the water was clear, she strung the flimsy chain blocking off her section of beach and folded the flaps of her lifeguard stand. She filled out her hours by hand and left the clipboard hanging from the back of the chair for Ronnie, her boss, to find in the morning. When she arrived at the gravel lot, there were only two cars remaining: her purple Civic, and Cooper’s shiny black truck. He leaned against his vehicle, thumbing his iPod.
The mere sight of him took her breath away. He was shirtless, wearing trunks in the same shade of red as her suit. The whistle hanging from his neck dangled over his taut, tan midsection. His hair was blond, but a few strands at his crown were white from long hours sitting in the sun. Anyone looking at Cooper Douglas could see his good looks, but Celia saw more than that. She saw potential, something she considered a massively underrated relationship incentive.
He crossed his arms as she approached, so Celia added a little more swing to her hips. They’d been fighting for weeks, and she wanted to win him over. She pushed her sunglasses into her hair, so he could see the bright blue in her eyes.
“Your section packed up?” she asked, in her sweet, southern drawl.
“Yep.” His stance didn’t budge, neither did his face. Cooper was upset, and Celia had an idea what about.
“Bridgette said they’re having a bonfire by the south bank tonight. Think Roman could score us a couple beers?”
“I don’t feel much like partying tonight, Celia,” he said. “We need to talk.”
“What about?” She cocked her head to the side, letting her braid fall over her shoulder.
Before Cooper could answer, a white Jeep pulled into the lot. The music was blaring, and a collection of limbs sprawled out of the open windows. When the brakes hit, a smattering of dust spread around the tires. The driver popped up, looking at them over the windshield.
“Y’all heard about the party tonight?” asked Jim, a scrawny, acne-prone seventeen-year-old with a shell necklace around his neck.
“I was just telling Cooper about it,” Celia said, happy the cavalry had arrived in time. Cooper might be mad at her, but it was hard for him to resist peer pressure. Cooper always folded under pressure.
“We all know you won’t turn down a good time,” Jim said to Celia, but there was an edge in his voice. She looked at Cooper, but he refused to look at either one of them.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” she asked.
“Stop pestering her,” Bridgette yelled at Jim, scrunching to make room in the back seat. “Get in, Celia. I want you to braid my hair.”
She started walking to the car but stopped when Cooper spoke.
“Can’t come right now, guys. Mom needs me to run by the house.”
“Aww,” Bridgette whined.
Beside her, a girl with strawberry curls popped the cap off a beer bottle and took a swig. “Y’all are missing out,” she shouted.
“Go on without us,” Celia said, taking a step closer to Cooper. “We’ll meet up later. We’re hoping Roman will buy some more alcohol.”
Jim slid back into the driver’s seat and cranked the car. “See y’all after a while.”
The car squealed out of the lot and onto the main road, leaving another cloud of dirt in its wake. The voices and blaring music faded, until there was nothing left but the sound of chirping insects and Cooper’s heavy breathing.
“You think that’s cute?” he asked, taking a step closer. “I told you I’m not in the mood to party.”
“That’s why I said we’d meet them later. We can go talk first, or whatever.” She looked him up and down, letting him know she was willing to do more than talk, but he didn’t seem interested. He was still angry. “You should thank me. It makes you sound cool when people remember Roman can get beer.”
“In case you haven’t noticed
, I don’t need Roman or beer to be cool.”
“What’s up with Jim? He was acting like an asshole, and you didn’t even say anything.”
Cooper shrugged. “Maybe everyone isn’t as crazy about you as you think they are.”
Celia flipped her duffel over her shoulder and gave Cooper a look she knew he despised. It was like she was laughing at him, but there was no smile. “If you wanna talk, let’s talk,” she said defiantly.
“Let’s go to the dock by my house.”
This was a good sign. It was their sentimental place. The location where she finally let him move past second base and where, months later, he told her he loved her. Maybe this relationship was salvageable, depending on how much he knew.
“Should I drive, or you?” she asked.
“I’ll drive.”
Cooper jumped into the driver’s seat. Celia checked the locks on her car, climbed into Cooper’s truck and fastened her seat belt.
Seven
Helena
I’m reading the paper when I see it.
That bastard is engaged. Engaged. The word crawls all over me, tugging on my patience and biting at my wounds. This is what people don’t understand about moving on. Even if I accept what has happened, there’s always something in the present I can’t tolerate. Something new I can’t control.
I’ve always been an avid reader. I don’t have just one subscription, either. I have my national newspaper I read because it makes me feel worldly, a few local publications and the Whisper Falls Gazette. I know what people think… if you don’t want the past to bother you, leave it alone. I’ve tried to cancel the damned thing, what, three times? But I never go through with it because, in many ways, it’s my only link to him, and he’s my only link to her.
Even though I continue to read his family’s shitty newspaper, I wasn’t expecting this. On the front page of the social’s section (of course it’s the front), there’s a recent picture of Cooper Douglas. He’s probably standing in one of the fancy rooms of his family’s pretentious house. He’s smiling at the camera, his dimples pinned. His arm is around her. The new woman in his life. Madison Sharpe. She looks nice enough. Wholesome. Clean. Nothing on my girl, of course, but that’s to be expected. What this picture doesn’t show is the wool Cooper has pulled over her eyes; this Madison probably has no idea her fiancé is a murderer.
The One Before: A totally gripping suspense thriller with a shocking twist Page 3
