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

by Miranda Smith

  “Ma’am?” the owner asks. I look up. “Can I help you with something?”

  “Ammo,” I say, sliding my shaking hands into my jacket pockets.

  Fifty-Six

  Maidson

  It’s been days since my conversation with Bailey in the park. I’m waiting, unsure what the next step in all this will be. My phone rings. It’s the last person I expect: Roman.

  “Is Cooper home yet?” He sounds aggravated.

  “Not yet. Is everything okay?”

  “Just tell him to call me. Fast.”

  He clicks off. I’m still staring at the phone in my hand when Coop enters the front door. He’s smiling and appears happy. Too happy.

  “Get dressed,” he says. “We’re meeting everyone at Nectar for dinner.”

  “Everything okay?”

  “We’re celebrating your new job,” he says, squeezing my arm.

  I smile a broken smile, unsure by what he means. “I’m a little lost here, Coop. Tell me what’s going on.”

  “There was a scuffle with one of the staff writers today. He’s been turning in assignments late and not following my suggestions. I just had enough of it and told him to pack up.” He holds my hands. “Which means there’s now a place for you.”

  This isn’t Coop. He’s not the type to fire someone because they made a mistake. He’d give them chance after chance. He’s loyal to his staff, which is why he insisted it would be a while, possibly years, before I could guarantee a job at the Gazette. He’s making unsound decisions. Trying to regain control of his situation. Control of me. I’ve come to realize this is who Coop is. For most of his life, he’s been in a position of power. He’s been a Douglas. When things don’t go his way, he starts acting off. That’s why he lashed out at Laura, and I can sense he’s turning that erratic behavior on me. He’s trying to create reasons for me to stay. He’s abandoning his own sense of right and wrong to keep me here.

  “Didn’t you think we should talk about this first?” I ask.

  “What’s there to talk about? You’ve been missing your job. It won’t be like the Chronicle, but at least you can get back to doing what you love. You’ll have a greater sense of purpose here now.”

  His phone rings, and I’m quickly reminded that Roman had called earlier sounding agitated. Coop answers the call, stepping into the kitchen to put distance between us. As he speaks, his features morph from curiosity to worry to defeat. When he hangs up, he doesn’t say anything. He stands still, staring ahead into the living room.

  “Something wrong?” I ask.

  “That was Roman.” He takes a seat at the desk. His jovial demeanor from earlier has disappeared.

  “He called me, too,” I say, taking a step forward. “What’s going on?”

  “He said there are police boats at the lake. They’ve brought a dive team.” He looks at the time on his phone, then stuffs it in his pocket. “They’re looking for something.”

  “Looking for what?”

  “I don’t know.” His eyes connect to mine, searching for answers. “Do you think they’re looking for—”

  “After eleven years?” I interrupt before he can finish the sentence. I take a step closer, soothe him by rubbing my hand against his arm. “I think you’re being paranoid.”

  Coop refuses to look at me. Finally, he says, “You’re right. It’s probably nothing.”

  He starts tapping into the laptop, and my insides feel all jumpy.

  “What are you doing?” I ask.

  “Trying to find more information before I visit the scene.”

  “Are you crazy? You don’t need to go there. We’re supposed to meet your family at Nectar.”

  “This is news,” he says, still staring at the computer. “I need to go for the Gazette.”

  I sit beside him, placing one hand on his lap while the other reaches over to gently close the laptop. “You’re the editor. Send someone else. We need to get ready for dinner.”

  “Roman sounds nervous,” he says. “He can be rowdy and quick-tempered, but he’s rarely nervous. I don’t know what to make of that.”

  “You said Roman doesn’t know about Laura—”

  “No, no, he doesn’t.” He strokes his jaw. “All this just worries me.”

  “Let’s get dressed,” I say. “We don’t want to make your family wait.”

  I stand and walk toward the staircase. Coop remains seated. “Would you tell me if there was something I needed to know?”

  “What?” I say, my pitch a tad too high. My own nervousness is starting to show.

  “I’d understand if you turned me in. I just want you to tell me.”

  I walk over to him slowly. My phone is sitting beside him on the coffee table. I pick it up, not sure what to do. Should I call someone? Should I run? Should I be honest?

  “I think I found it,” I say, scrolling through my music library.

  “What?” Coop sounds grief-stricken.

  “The perfect song for our first dance at the wedding.” In recent days, this has been my fail-proof tactic. Force Coop to stop thinking about the past and worrying about the present by reminding him of what’s to come.

  I press play. It takes a few bars, but eventually the music fills the nervous chambers of my heart and calms me. I think the same magic is working on Coop. He smiles. He needs reassurance I’m not going anywhere.

  “I’ve always liked this song,” he says.

  “We both do,” I say, closing my eyes. “That’s why I picked it.”

  Coop stands, placing both hands on my waist. “Will you dance with me, Madison?”

  I nod. He wraps an arm around my lower back, and I lay my head on his chest. Alone in our living room, we sway to the music. I try my best to push Laura and the search party and all the other ugly parts of our reality from my mind. I try to focus on only him. This man I love, despite his faults. His crimes can’t diminish the love I’ve felt for him through the years, and the sadness I’ll feel when he’s no longer in my life.

  I think he senses it, too. That the end is near. “I love you,” he whispers.

  “I love you, too.”

  I really did.

  Fifty-Seven

  Helena

  I finished my liquor last night, promising myself, no matter how the day unfolds, I won’t drink again. The habit was hard to kick last time but has been a necessary accompaniment to this process. I’m unsure what this day will bring for me, but I know how it will end for Cooper.

  My plan to approach him as he left the Gazette didn’t pan out. I waited outside headquarters until well after four. When he still hadn’t exited the building, I went inside. The woman behind the counter—Misty, I think was her name—said he’d already left. Defeated, I got into my car and drove to his house. I’d rather not involve Madison in any of this, but she’s had more than enough time to walk away.

  I drove past their house once, wanting to gauge if anyone else was present. To my surprise, Madison and Cooper were walking to his vehicle. I turned around in time to see them merge onto the main road. I followed them along the same path I’d just driven, until they entered downtown and parked their car in the Nectar parking lot.

  Whisper Falls is surprisingly busy tonight. Heads turn as the charismatic couple enters the restaurant. Cooper shakes hands with a few people he passes, still upholding the charade he’s spent an entire lifetime perfecting. I’d not intended to confront Cooper in such a crowded venue, surrounded by all these nosy people. On second thought, maybe it’s better this way. Once the real story gets out, no one will question what I’ve done. His family won’t wonder why their son and brother met such a gruesome fate. They won’t search for answers, as I did with my own daughter. At last, the truth will be revealed to all.

  I park a few blocks away. I walk along the sidewalk, detouring at the Whisper Falls Memorial Gardens I visited my first day back. I stop at the bench dedicated to Celia and kneel. Last time I was here, I was determined to find resolution for her. This girl lost he
r life in the same way my daughter did, at the hands of Cooper Douglas. I whisper a prayer, promising both girls I won’t let him get away again. I return my hands to my pockets and tighten my grip around the gun.

  Fifty-Eight

  Madison

  Nectar has never been more packed. There must have been a ceremony at the local high school; all the well-to-do families and trendy teenagers are here, ordering overpriced appetizers and artisan sandwiches. There’s a line of patrons waiting to take pictures in front of the chalk wall. Regina walks from behind the register to greet us, her face full of pride.

  “Busy night,” I tell her, my fingers still intertwined with Coop’s. He’s been tense since we left the house, despite my attempts to calm him.

  “Tell me about it,” she says, looking around the room approvingly. “No worries. I’ve set up our table in the back to give us more privacy.”

  We follow her through the narrow rows of tables to a pair of sliding doors. She opens them, revealing a large round table. Josephine sits alone, swirling a glass of red wine in her hand. When she sees us, she stands and offers Coop a hug. They embrace a second longer than expected, then she looks at me and nods.

  “Congratulations,” she says. “You must be happy to return to writing.”

  “It’s come as a bit of a surprise,” I say, glancing around the room.

  “Where’s Roman?” Coop asks.

  Before Josephine can answer, Regina jumps in. “He took off with something last-minute. I mean, it’s no wonder he couldn’t run the Gazette. He gets overwhelmed enough being Mom’s errand boy.”

  “That’s unnecessary, Regina,” Josephine says, returning to her seat. “Let’s not ruin tonight with petty banter. We’re supposed to be celebrating Madison.”

  A waiter enters the private dining space. Josephine flicks her finger, signaling she’d like another drink.

  “Are you working?” I ask Regina, trying to appear less nervous than I am.

  “I think my staff can handle it. Lord knows they’ll come get me if they can’t.” She turns to the server. “Bring out something red. The good stuff.”

  “You got it,” he says, nodding at the table before walking away.

  The far wall is lined with windows providing a perfect view of downtown Whisper Falls. I watch as people meander and the streetlights flick on. Everything appears calm and quaint, a stark contrast to the emotions I feel rumbling inside. Across the street, I see a person dressed in dark clothing walking toward Nectar with extreme urgency; it’s so opposed to the slow pace of the other walkers. As she comes closer, I see her face and recognition sets in. It’s Helena.

  I stand, pushing my chair back. I’m not sure what Helena is doing, but she’s staring right at us and she’s not changing direction. The last thing I need is for her to try and confront Coop here.

  “What is it?” asks Regina, irritated I interrupted the toast she was preparing to give.

  I stumble through the crowded dining hall, trying to reach the sidewalk before Helena gets close enough to do anything irrational. As I’m exiting the front door, a short man with thick hair stops me. I try to move him out of my way, but he won’t budge. He grabs my shoulders with both hands.

  “Are you Madison Sharpe?” he asks.

  Hearing my name rescues me from my trance. I no longer see Helena. All I can see is this man standing in front of me, and the badge he holds in his hand.

  Fifty-Nine

  Helena

  Madison spots me from inside the dining room. She rushes away from the table, which only encourages me to pick up my pace. No one, not even her, can stop me this time. I’m about to lift the gun when I see Madison halted on the sidewalk.

  I pause long enough to see she’s talking to a member of law enforcement. There’s a slew of officers marching inside Nectar. In a panic, I stuff the gun into my waistband and scurry across the street, ducking behind a trio of people who have stopped in their tracks. My first thought is someone must have reported me, but that doesn’t make any sense. No one knows what I planned for today, and I hadn’t yet shown my gun.

  I wait, trying to make sense of what I’m seeing. Madison is standing on the sidewalk beside a uniformed officer, her face scanning the crowds gathering on the streets. Maybe she’s looking for me. Then I see him. Cooper Douglas is being escorted out of Nectar by two officers. They usher him to a police car and instruct him to sit in the back seat.

  Like everyone else on the sidewalk, I’m staring at the scene in confusion. I’m so caught off guard, I stumble and lean against the brick building behind me. Is this what I think is happening? Is Cooper being arrested? At the very least, questioned? I watch as the remaining members of his family, Josephine and Regina, exit the restaurant. His mother looks distraught while the sister stomps around with her arms flailing. They’re clearly upset and as confused as everyone else.

  The car containing Cooper pulls onto Market Avenue and drives away. Madison is being escorted to a second car. Now that the spectacle is over, people resume walking and, I’m sure, talking about what they just witnessed. I’m still leaning against the building, shaken and out of breath. My heart is pumping with adrenaline and excitement. Is Cooper finally being held accountable? Has all my scheming these last few weeks amounted to something?

  I take a deep breath and stand upright. I feel the hard barrel of the gun pressed against my gut. The sensation frightens me. I’d come so close to doing the unthinkable, to putting Josephine Douglas through the same pain her son had caused me. I sprint to my car, shoving the gun into the glove compartment. My body exhausted from the range of emotions I’ve just felt, I lean against the steering wheel and cry.

  Sixty

  Madison

  I must look a mess. My fringed dress and heels don’t complement the coat the officers gave me to wear. It’s freezing inside the interrogation room. So different from the warm atmosphere inside Nectar.

  A woman walks in. She’s slim with red hair slicked back into a ponytail. She drops a folder onto the table between us and takes a seat. “Madison Sharpe?”

  “That’s right,” I say, sinking deeper into the jacket.

  “You’re engaged to Cooper Douglas?”

  I nod.

  She pulls out a recording device. “I’m Detective Jensen. An informant gave us this recording earlier in the week.” She pushes a button, and I listen to a snippet of my conversation with Bailey in the park. I imagine I hear the birds flying above and the leaves crinkling at my feet. I wish I was back at that beautiful day.

  It was right after Bailey had told me there was nothing we could do.

  “What about a confession?” I asked, avoiding eye contact. “Would that be enough?”

  “Do you think Cooper might have told someone what he’d done?” Bailey asked, her brow wrinkling as she tugged a strand of hair behind her ear.

  “Coop told me he killed Laura.”

  Bailey’s mouth opened, and she leaned closer. Whatever she expected me to say, it wasn’t that. “What? When?”

  “He told me last week after my conversation with Helena. That’s why I reached out to you.”

  “Why didn’t you go to the police?”

  “I’m not in immediate danger, but I don’t have the resources to leave. Josephine has half the town in her back pocket. Coop’s best friend is the chief of police. If I come forward and they stall on arresting him, or word got out I was trying to pin him for something… then I would be in danger. That’s why I came to you.”

  “Are you sure you’re safe?” Her tone was unconvinced, scared even.

  “I am now because Coop thinks I’ve forgiven him. He thinks I’m on his side. But he’s become possessive since he told me. If he gets the idea I’m turning on him, I don’t know what he’ll do. And I don’t have anywhere else to go. His family has more connections than we do combined. I can’t walk away in constant fear he’ll come after me.”

  Bailey turned quiet, no doubt contemplating what a confession from Coop mea
nt. For him. For me. For her own relationship with Regina. But like me, Bailey must have gauged the magnitude of wrong and right.

  “My detective friend in the county where Laura went missing is intrigued by what I’ve told her so far. If you tell her what Cooper said, she’ll make an arrest. I can arrange a meeting—”

  “I already told you: I can’t. He’s watching my every move. Checking our mail and scanning my phone records. I can’t sit down with a detective and go home that same night.”

  “Then tell me,” she said, pulling out her phone. “Tell me everything Cooper told you. I’ll record it and pass it on.”

  “Will that be enough?”

  “It’s worth a try. What do we have to lose?”

  I had everything to lose. Bailey had proven reliable, but how much could I truly trust her? Especially knowing the depth of her relationship with Regina? Coop, the person I trusted more than anyone in this world, turned out to be a murderer. But Bailey was right about one thing. After eleven years with limited evidence, this was our best shot.

  “Start recording,” I said.

  Detective Jensen stops the tape, pulling me back to the present. I’m now living the aftermath of what I’ve done. “Is that you speaking, Ms. Sharpe?”

  “Yes.” I clear my throat and sit up straighter. “I told Bailey to give you the recording.”

  The officer takes a pen out of her pocket and hovers it over a writing pad. “I’m going to need you to tell me everything you know. Start from the beginning.”

  “Where’s Coop? Is he—”

  “He’s speaking with another detective,” she says, raising her hand. She has to remain professional and objective, but I see a glint of sympathy in her eyes. Or perhaps it’s judgment? My words are what brought us here. I turned on Coop. I take a deep breath, praying this ordeal is almost over.