The One Before: A totally gripping suspense thriller with a shocking twist

by Miranda Smith

  I wonder if this is a dig about ‘Chrissy’, but that’s just me being paranoid. The Chronicle erased the article as fast as they could. Unless someone had a hard copy in hand, Bailey couldn’t know about it. That situation made me all too aware of the dangers in following the wrong story. Bernard Wright and his gang of lawyers actively planted lies to create doubt. People are malicious. They’ll take another person’s pain and use it to their advantage.

  “The things you write affect people. All you’re doing is stirring up ghosts.”

  “I’m not the only person who thinks the Douglas family had a hand in covering this up. They did more than hire an outside examiner. They buried as many stories about Celia as they could. I bet my post on The Falls Report was the only article you’ve even read. Why do you think that is?”

  I stumble. “When the Gazette adopted their new online system—”

  “Yeah, yeah, yeah. They lost a few articles. How convenient that every article about Celia Gray didn’t make the cut. The Douglas family has money and power. That makes them suspicious.” Bailey tilts her head to get a better look at me. “You don’t buy everything they say either, do you? That’s why you’re so bothered by this.”

  “I’m bothered because I know Coop. He’s a good man, and I hate to see the way this incident has followed him.”

  “Cooper Douglas seems like a stand-up guy. It doesn’t mean there aren’t skeletons rattling in his closet.”

  I’m blushing, but I refuse to cower in front of her. A week ago, I might have been wounded by what she said, but Bridgette’s accusation changed things. It forced me to communicate with Coop about his past. Forced him to reveal this town’s involvement in his shame. For a while, I drifted through Whisper Falls, unsure of my purpose. Now I understand my role is to support Coop, assure him he no longer has to carry this burden alone. We’re in this together.

  “I’m sure it’s difficult finding entertaining stories in a town this dull but work a little harder,” I say, holding eye contact as I take a step back. “And stop writing about Coop.”

  I jog back to the track, not leaving the park until I’ve finished my routine.

  Twenty-Four

  Helena

  I’ve spent the entire afternoon collecting materials at the local craft supply store. Tomorrow, I’ll drive to local florists and snap pictures of various arrangements on display. It’s a lot of effort to put into an event I know will never happen, but it’s important for me to build a rapport with Madison. To impress her, even. It’s the only way I can get close to her whilst steering clear of her in-laws. They’d know me in a second. How could they forget?

  When it became clear the police were no longer investigating, I had to do whatever I could to keep my daughter’s face out there. I contacted news stations and newspapers, and not just the corrupt Gazette. Eventually, even they grew tired of my phone calls. There were bigger stories to tell, more important people than my girl.

  That’s when I started drinking. I’d always been a social drinker, but now when I imbibed, it wasn’t for a connection; I no longer relied on people in the superficial way I once did. The bottle listened to my stories without telling me to move on or accept what had happened. The bottle didn’t tell me I was being irrational for placing the blame on Cooper Douglas. He knew something. His wealthy family hired a lawyer to shut him up, but who would do that unless there was something to hide? Why weren’t they contacting me, telling what they knew? They didn’t even send condolences.

  After six months, I couldn’t take it anymore. I needed to contact Cooper directly. After several glasses of Merlot, I trekked to Whisper Falls and made my way onto the Douglas estate. I wanted to talk to Josephine, mother to mother. Cooper was young, after all. Maybe he was intimidated by me. His mother would understand the anguish of not being able to protect a child, and, perhaps, offer her support.

  A mindful person would have reached out over the phone, but that would have provided too much time for a reaction. If his mother could only see me in person, she might take me seriously. Finding the house wasn’t hard. Everyone in Whisper Falls knew how to reach the Douglas estate. I went there on a Saturday afternoon, immediately mesmerized by the hydrangea bushes lining the driveway and the ominous lake in the background. I walked to the front door, which was opened by a member of the staff—what people have staff these days?—and was directed to the library.

  I sank into a velvet armchair by the fireplace, scanning the rows of books between the floor and ceiling. The back window overlooked Whisper Lake. I wondered how many times my daughter might have visited this place. A dozen? More? How close had she and Cooper become? Surely his family mourned her loss as much as I did.

  “I’m Josephine Douglas,” she said when she entered the room. She wore a lime skirt and blazer, a colorful silk scarf fastened around her neck. Her dark hair sat atop her head, a jeweled hairpin holding it in place. She pushed back her shoulders and smiled, her presence sucking the air out of the room. “How may I help you?”

  “I’m Helena,” I said, standing to shake the woman’s hand. My knees buckled from the nervousness. This wasn’t the type of place I belonged, and Josephine wasn’t the type of woman I’d ever befriend. “I wanted to speak to you about your son.”

  “Which son?”

  “About Cooper.” I took a step closer.

  “I thought this was about a charity event.”

  The man who had let me inside was standing in the corner of the room watching us. She looked at him for confirmation, and he shrugged. Of course I wasn’t there about a charity event, but I needed some excuse to get into the house.

  “Mrs. Douglas, I need to talk to you about Cooper. You see, my daughter—”

  Her face filled with recognition and horror. She knew what I was about to say, but she wouldn’t let me finish. “You need to leave. Now.” She turned to exit the room.

  “Please, if you’d just listen to me.” I yanked her arm, pulling her back. I didn’t mean to grab her with such force, but the combination of desperation and wine overpowered my manners.

  “Let me go,” she said, her eyes as deep as the lake beyond the doors. And yet, there was something in them. Fear. I was scaring her.

  “I know he was the last person to see her. Maybe there’s something he could tell me. Some way he could help.”

  “Let. Me. Go.” Her words reverberated from a place of contempt.

  I released her and covered my mouth with my hand. I was mortified by my behavior but exhausted of being rejected at every turn. I started crying, sobbing uncontrollably. “I only want answers.”

  “Roger, escort this woman out,” Josephine said. It was clear she was trying to remain dignified. I’d gone about this the wrong way. She’d labeled me deranged, not worthy of conversation. She thought I’d come here to terrorize her child. All I’d wanted to do was uncover the truth about mine.

  “Please, Mrs. Douglas. If you’d just speak with him. Or let me. You can’t imagine how painful it is not knowing what happened to your child.”

  “No, I can’t.” She stared at me with those deep, cold eyes. “It’s a mother’s responsibility to know everything about her children. I’m sorry you failed at that, but I’m not going to let you harass my son. The way you’ve treated him is repulsive.”

  I felt like I’d been punched in the gut. She thought Cooper was a victim in all this. She’d refused the opportunity for me to show her otherwise. Roger, a little kinder this time, touched my shoulder, urging me to leave. As I made my way to the front door, I saw three heads poking over the banister of the staircase. A young man, a teenage girl and him. They all looked scared, even Cooper, but seeing his face forced me into action.

  “Cooper!” I screamed. “Cooper, tell me what you did to her!”

  Every ounce of self-restraint escaped when I saw his frightened face. My anger and grief and despair flooded my body. I made a run for the stairs, but Roger was holding me back. He had a good grip, despite his age.

&
nbsp; Cooper, looking even more afraid, walked away—the second time he’d turned his back on me in a time of need. The other boy followed him. The girl stood there, watching my outburst with tears in her eyes.

  “Get back here!” I was screaming, mustering all my strength to wriggle from Roger’s grasp. Why did Cooper get to walk away? Why could he—and his entire family—write me off? Refuse me answers? Josephine stood by the staircase, undressing each layer of my emotion with those cold eyes. Her posture never slackened, and she only moved to reposition the scarf around her neck.

  “Please, ma’am,” Roger whispered in my ear. “I don’t want to call the police.”

  The police. The same people who had done nothing for my precious girl would gladly come to this fancy house and arrest me. They’d love the opportunity, especially in a town like this where alliances are firmly forged. I wiped tears and snot with the back of my hand before marching out the door.

  That was the first time my rage overshadowed my grief. I felt an almost animalistic need to lash out at Cooper Douglas. Hurt him. Inflict the pain I was feeling onto him. Until then, I’d been waiting for an explanation, reserving my forgiveness. Now I’m waiting for a moment to strike back. At long last, my moment has arrived.

  Twenty-Five

  Madison

  I welcome Anne into the house. She carries a large box of flowers.

  “Let me help you,” I say.

  “No need. The box is lighter than it looks.” She puts it down and flattens her slacks with her hands, staring at me for a moment before she speaks. “I’ve brought some candles, too. I thought we could make a few centerpieces. See what works. I’ll pass along whatever we decide to the florist.”

  “Thank you.” I’m not sure what I was expecting, but it appears Anne is going above and beyond. “This is great.”

  She studies my appearance. “You’ve changed your hair.”

  My hand grazes through my strands, a useless attempt to wipe away the damage. “Yeah. I’m still getting used to the color. And the cut.”

  “I think it suits you,” she says, but I sense she’s only trying to be kind. “Shall we get started?”

  I sit while she stands, twirling twine and ivy around candles of various sizes. She shows me some pictures on her phone, all of which are lovely.

  “I can tell you’ve spent a lot of time working on these.”

  “It’s what I’m hired to do. Make the bride happy.”

  “I’ve never been part of an event this elaborate before. It’s nice, feeling like I’m helping coordinate all of this. Not just pointing at pictures and writing a check.”

  “Who else is helping you with the planning?”

  “Well, Josephine has been incredibly generous. She obviously arranged to get you involved.”

  “Of course.”

  “And I’ve decided to let Regina’s restaurant cater the reception. Nectar has the best food around by far.”

  “That’s a big box to check off our list. It must be nice having a chef in the family.” She smiles, placing the arrangement on the table. “What about your family? Are they involved?”

  My mouth opens, but my voice catches. “I’m not really in contact with my family.”

  “I see.” She starts fiddling with flowers again, nervous she’s pushed into unchartered territory. “I think we’re more than capable of handling this on our own.”

  “I’ve never been close to my family,” I say, feeling the need to explain. “I grew up in the system. My most recent foster mother and I were close, but she died not long after Coop and I started dating. Cancer.”

  “I’m sorry to hear that, Madison.” She stops what she’s doing and stares, like she wants to cradle me. “It must be hard planning a wedding without the person you love the most there to help.”

  “I guess that’s why I’m so laid-back when it comes to all this. I never had daydreams about my father walking me down the aisle, or dress shopping with my mother.” I smile to let Anne know I’m okay, even though I feel like I’m on the verge of crying. “I do wish my foster mother could have been here though. Ginny. That was her name.”

  Anne drops her gaze to the bouquet in her hands. When she looks at me, there are tears in her eyes. “I lost my daughter some years back. That’s why it’s been so long since I’ve planned a wedding.”

  “I’m so sorry, Anne.” I reach for her hands. My instincts want to ask what happened, but I don’t. I don’t need to resurrect this woman’s pain. And I know how difficult it can be trying to answer questions about one’s past. “That’s a terrible loss.”

  “I couldn’t wait for the day we’d plan her wedding. Once I realized that wouldn’t happen, it wasn’t much fun organizing events anymore. That’s why I’ve stuck to community functions. I still have bills to pay, but those hurt a little less.”

  For a brief moment, I try to imagine the anguish Anne must feel. I’ve never had deep connections with anyone besides Beth and Coop. Before them, the closest bond I had was with Ginny, but the nature of our relationship meant our time together was limited. Even if she were alive, our relationship was always an artificial sort of mother/daughter bond. In the brief moments Anne has spent telling me about her daughter, I can tell they had the real thing.

  “It means a lot you’re planning this with me,” I say, reaching for Anne’s quivering hands. It calms her, and she smiles.

  “It’s like fate, isn’t?”

  “I suppose.” I’m not sure why my wedding is so special, why this is the event that has brought Anne out of her seclusion. It must have something to do with me marrying a Douglas, and all the power and prestige one feels being involved with them.

  “Well.” Anne wipes tears from her cheeks and smiles. “I’ve got more to talk to you about than sad memories. I’ll pass along your centerpiece decisions to the florist. Now, we need to decide on invitations.”

  I pull out my computer and show her my shortlist of potential designs. We select one and submit our order, so they’ll arrive next week. Afterward, Anne presents various options for entertainment. We select a band that’s available, and Anne promises to reserve them. Then we move on to the bridesmaid dress. I tell her I’ll go shopping with Regina, since she’s the only attendant.

  “Will your sister-in-law also provide the cake?”

  “I think dinner will be all her staff can handle. We should see if we can find a bakery willing to commit last-minute.”

  “Between now and our next meeting, I’ll sort it out. Maybe I can even organize a tasting.”

  “Sounds wonderful.” I laugh, and Anne does, too. It’s nice, feeling assured about the decisions we’ve just made.

  “I must say, this is quite an easy job,” she says, holding out her hands. “There’s little left for me to do.”

  “Still, I appreciate your help. It makes me more confident.”

  She smiles. It’s as though she wants to say more but doesn’t. “Well, I guess we can meet next week after the invitations arrive. Will Thursday work?”

  “That’s perfect.” I stand, as does Anne. “If you don’t mind, Josephine would like to join our next session.”

  She pauses as she walks to the front door. “Any particular reason why? I know she’s a very busy woman.”

  “I think she’s tested her patience in staying out of our hair this long.” I laugh. “She says she wants to give me control over the wedding, but deep down I know she wants to be involved. You don’t mind?”

  “Of course not,” she says, pulling sunglasses over her eyes. “It’s her son’s wedding. It’s natural for her to help.”

  “Great.” I smile, not because Josephine will be joining us, but because Anne understands. “I’ll see you Thursday?”

  “See you then.”

  She loads the boxes into her car and leaves.

  Twenty-Six

  Helena

  Shit, shit, shit. Just when I thought things were going my way, Josephine Douglas has to get involved. The poise and power of that
woman makes me want to spit. If she were in my position, she’d carry herself better. She’d start a charity. Become an inspiration. But I don’t think that woman loves her children the way I loved my girl. She could move on. I can’t.

  Here I am, sounding all judgmental. I’ve dealt with my fair share of accusations over the years. People who think I didn’t do enough. If she’d known her daughter better or if she’d been around more maybe this wouldn’t have happened. For a time, I thought those comments warranted a reply, then I realized no one really cared to know the truth, they just wanted to make snarky remarks. An outsider could never understand the depth of a mother’s love for her child. Whatever mistakes I made, they don’t lessen the pain I feel no longer having her around.

  I pull my thoughts away from the past and back to the present. To my current conundrum. There’s no way I can meet with Josephine. She’ll know who I am within minutes. But I’m not ready to tell Madison the truth, either. We aren’t close enough yet. We made steps in the right direction during today’s session. I didn’t plan on opening up about my loss, of course. I need her to see the composed woman I once was, not the vengeful one I’ve become. It’s the only way I can get her, or anyone else for that matter, to help me. When Madison opened up about her own family life, my memories came spilling out.

  I’ve considered the irony a million times. If it weren’t for Cooper Douglas, I’d be planning my own daughter’s wedding at this point in my life. Maybe I’d even be a grandmother. Sometimes I like to envision that alternate path, how full my life could have been had she not been taken. Now, in some twisted turn of fate, I’m planning her murderer’s wedding instead. Of course, that’s the role I’m forced to play. I must get closer to his bride before I can expect her to trust me. Just a little more time.