* * *
From her spot at the top of the stairs, Dawn gripped the banister and suppressed her scream.
His special place. It had to be the cells. The same place he had taken her countless times before to make love.
Tears streaked her cheeks as she absorbed what Taylor had endured. Her humiliation and anger blended with Dawn’s. She had loved Beau and trusted him. What kind of monster was she for loving such a sick guy?
Taylor’s soft voice and the matter-of-fact way she had told her tale eventually sucked the strength out of Dawn’s legs. She sank to the plush carpet and held on to the banister, crying in silence, not wanting to wake her parents or let Taylor know she had eavesdropped.
“Do you know of any other girls he has done this to?” Leslie asked in the kitchen.
Dawn held her breath, waiting for Taylor’s answer.
“Yes. There are more.”
The unvarnished delivery of the news sent Dawn curling into a ball.
You have to do something!
The strength returned to her limbs—so did her resolve to get even with the psychotic asshole who had destroyed the lives of so many. She could almost hear Leslie scolding her to leave Beau for the authorities. But Dawn couldn’t do that. She felt responsible for what had happened to Taylor, her sister, and his other victims. Leslie couldn’t protect her anymore. She would find a way to make Beau Devereaux pay for what he’d done, and make sure he never did it again.
* * *
The breeze coming off the water teased Beau’s hot skin as he fumed about his situation. The loud music set up by his picnic bench wasn’t helping. And the students from St. Benedict and Covington High around him made him sick.
Assholes!
His run through the brush to find whoever had been watching him as he’d let Andrea drift away haunted every second. He also couldn’t stand listening to the constant retellings of Marty Evans’ Hail Mary pass. A few mentioned Beau’s sweet toppling of Kramer Wilson, but everyone hailed Marty the hero of the day.
If that little asshole gets my place on the roster at Tulane, I’ll kill him.
The loss of his dream bothered him the most. How had everything turned to shit so quickly?
He knew why.
He pictured Leslie drifting down the river in place of Andrea and smiled. That had been the one highlight of his evening. Killing Andrea had given him a rush; even disposing of her body had been a thrill. What if he could recapture those moments with Leslie? But he would have to be careful. He’d gotten lucky with Andrea. He’d have to meticulously plan for his night with his dream girl.
The party, the game, and the loss of his future didn’t seem so important anymore. Andrea’s death had given him an odd sense of purpose. If he could kill her, what else could he do?
“You okay, dude?”
Josh kept his distance. He’d never realized the little dweeb was such a pansy ass.
“I’m fine.” He sipped his bottle of water.
Josh took a brave step forward. “You scared the piss out of everyone on the field tonight.”
“Not to mention that referee.” Mitch rubbed his chin, hiding a grin. “You clobbered him.”
Beau eyed two attractive girls in very short skirts strolling past. They didn’t have Leslie’s shade of hair color or her effortless way of moving. They wouldn’t do.
“It was an accident. I never meant to hit the guy.”
Josh had a seat next to him, cradling his beer. “Coach Brewer doesn’t buy it. What do you think the school will do?”
School? How could he be bothered with something as mundane as school? He’d entered a whole new level of the game with Andrea’s death. How would Biology and English Lit help him carry out all the deliciously wicked visions popping into his head?
A group of laughing girls came scurrying onto the beach dressed in tight jeans with fitted tops. Beau licked his lips, sizing them up, but the surge of sexual attraction he’d felt before wasn’t there. He found himself more interested in their necks. Each girl he pictured with his hands around their throats, recreating the rush he’d gotten from killing Andrea. It was like a drug. He wanted to get high again.
Self-control in all things.
First, he had to get Leslie out of his system. After her, the world was his.
“Sounds like Marty pulled out a great end to the game.” He recapped his water, already bored with the party.
“Yeah, he was fantastic.” Mitch eased his arm back, imitating the quarterback’s Hail Mary pass. “You should have seen it.”
Beau squeezed the bottle. “I should congratulate him.”
“Are you serious?” Josh didn’t sound convinced. “We figured you’d be furious about his game.”
He gave them his practiced smile, the one he used to charm everyone. He had grown so far beyond their simple minds—they would never be able to comprehend his ability.
“Hey, I’m a team player. I’m over it. I just want the best for everyone.”
The roar of a bonfire catching and the crackle of the wood filled the air. A cheer went up among the partygoers; the party had hit its stride.
Three girls dressed in Covington High T-shirts and jeans had a seat on the other end of the bench.
“Do you know those girls?” Mitch asked.
He found one of them somewhat tempting. With slim hips, flaxen hair, and pouty lips, she reminded him a little of Leslie.
Yeah, this is what I need.
His ringing phone distracted him.
He stood and retrieved his cell from his back pocket. Dad showed up on the screen. Beau didn’t bother to answer. Whatever he wanted, he wasn’t interested.
Just when he was about to slip the phone back into his pocket, he received a text message.
Get your ass home now. No excuses.
“Something wrong?” Mitch asked.
He slipped the phone in his back pocket. “I’m gonna have to take off. It’s my old man.”
Mitch winced. “Yikes. That ain’t gonna be good.”
Josh patted his shoulder, never taking his eyes off the girls on the bench. “Maybe he didn’t hear about you nailing Kramer yet.”
Mitch chuckled. “Gage Devereaux? Are you kidding? He knows everything that goes on in this town.”
Not everything.
Beau nodded to his friends. “I’ll see you guys later.”
He slipped away, hustling to get back to the parking lot. His old man never texted him, never checked on him. The fact that Gage had contacted him meant he was pissed. Beau may not have given a damn about his father, but he needed to kiss his ass to keep getting his money.
He opened his car door, and another ping rang through the air.
If you are not in the door in ten minutes, I’m coming to get you.
He started the car, cursing his father under his breath. It would seem his night was about to take a turn for the worse.
* * *
Beau steered his car along the drive, the bright lights of the house glaring into the darkness surrounding the property. Shadows teased him as he headed to the garage. He swore he saw Andrea’s face in the gloom, serene and lifeless, as it had been when the river had taken her away.
When he entered the back door of his parents’ home, Gage was there. His thick arms—carved by years of weightlifting—folded across his broad chest, his dark eyes smoldering.
“Where were you?”
He dropped his duffel bag on the ground, knowing he couldn’t con his father like everyone else in the town. He needed to play it real.
“At the river. I wanted to apologize to my teammates.”
His father’s cold-blooded expression never altered. “After that stunt you pulled on the field, you should have come right home!”
“You heard, huh?”
His father pounced, wrenching his arm. “What have I told you time and again? People are watching us, they’re watching you. That stupid lapse of judgment is all some will need to question your integrity, you
r state of mind. How hard have we worked to keep you focused, to keep people from seeing who you really are? And you blow it on a stupid football game.”
Beau yanked his arm away. “It wasn’t a stupid football game. And it was an accident. I never meant to hit the guy. I lost my grip on the ball. How many times can I apologize for a mistake?”
“You expect me to buy that bullshit?” He threw his hand in the air, his voice black with anger. “I’ve watched you, studied you. I know what you are capable of, and everyone in this fucking town is going to find out, too. Do you know what that will do to our business? To our reputation? You can’t walk around reacting to everything and everyone without thinking your actions through.”
Beau sagged against the hallway wall, crushed. “Is that all this means to you? A loss of revenue? You don’t care that I’ve lost my shot at Tulane, do you?”
“You never had a shot at Tulane!” Gage slammed his hand inches away from his face. “That scout was there as a favor to me. He looked at your numbers, watched some films on you before he came to the field and wasn’t very optimistic about your chances. You never had what it takes to make it in college ball, but I was trying to give you a chance. A chance you blew.”
He tingled all over as he considered his father’s betrayal. Beau knew his father was a scheming, ruthless businessman, but he’d never dreamed he would use the same tactics on him.
You bastard!
Gage pushed away from the wall. “Perhaps now you can settle into your studies, concentrate on going to LSU, and put football behind you.”
He charged up to his father. “But I don’t want to give up football.”
Gage rested his hand on his hip, shaking his head, appearing more frustrated than angry. “You’re off the team. Brewer won’t take you back. He called me after the game. That’s how I knew about Kramer. He suspects you threw that ball on purpose. I know you did. So there will be no more football. We’ll find other ways for you to handle that problem of yours without playing sports.”
His insides boiled. For years, he had listened to his parents whisper about “his problem.” But Beau never saw his anger as an issue. It made him stronger and better than the other losers at school. And as he pictured Andrea floating away in the river, he knew his bouts of madness had given him another gift—purpose.
He rubbed his hands together to hide their twitching from his old man. “What about baseball in the spring? I always play shortstop.”
Gage ran his hand through his hair, his heavy sigh permeating the tension in the air. “Right now, you’ll be lucky if the school doesn’t expel you for that stunt. Ms. Greenbriar called me, too, after the game. I had to do a lot of apologizing to keep her appeased. She plans on having you do community service and volunteer work for the school.”
A flurry of expletives was on the tip of Beau’s tongue, but he held back. He had a part to play.
“I understand.” He picked up his duffel bag. “I’ll do whatever they want.”
“No more trips to the river.” Gage snatched the keys out of his hand. “You’re grounded. You’ll work at the brewery on weekends and after school. Until you prove to me you have a handle on your behavior, you will live under my thumb.”
Beau took the news with a somber nod. He was about to head up the hall when his father stopped him.
“Aren’t you going to ask about the guy you hit?”
He’d never even considered the line referee. He did not give a damn about the man.
“How is he?”
Gage gripped his keys. “He’s got a concussion. I picked up the tab on his ER visit, which you will work off at the brewery. I’m going to put you in the shipping department under Kramer. You can apologize all you want to him when you’re there.”
He gritted his teeth. So be it.
If he had to kiss every nobody’s ass in St. Benedict, he would climb his way back to the top. And once there, Beau would make sure every living soul who had brought about his downfall would pay an agonizing price.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
The gnarled green trees and bright blue sky did nothing to ease the pain in Leslie’s heart. Taylor’s admission had stayed with her. She’d barely slept, hardly touched her breakfast, and though she and her sister were on their way to pick up Derek to go shopping, her enthusiasm had sputtered. How could she enjoy herself when someone else was in so much pain? And what should she do with the information about Beau? He had to be stopped. But who could she turn to?
“You’re awfully quiet?”
She glanced at Dawn behind the wheel, grateful she had been spared Beau’s psychotic rages.
“Are you sure you want to go to the Halloween party at the river? Beau will be there. We could avoid him and maybe check out some of the other events—”
“No, I want to go to the party,” her sister insisted. “Besides, I’ll be in costume. He won’t know it’s me.”
Dawn’s resolve came through in her voice. Leslie wished she wasn’t so damned stubborn.
“I’m not going to run with my tail between my legs whenever I see Beau. We’re going to go and have fun.” Dawn hesitated as she turned off Main Street. “What made you change your mind? I thought you wanted to go.”
Leslie forced a smile to her lips, her heart heaving as she remembered Taylor’s emotionless face.
“I wanted to make sure you were into this. We’ll have to hustle to get our costumes ready.”
Dawn chuckled, sounding upbeat. “It will be fine. You’ll see. We will come up with some great costumes. I know it.”
When Dawn pulled into the driveway, her smile wavered a little.
“You’re sure Derek wants to join us?”
Leslie undid her seatbelt, chasing the apprehension from her voice. “Of course. He wants the three of us to hang out, and what better way than shopping?”
Dawn sat back in her seat, her gaze sweeping over her sister. “You never doubt him, do you? You’re always optimistic about your future together.” Dawn slapped the steering wheel. “I couldn’t even get Beau to talk about going to the same college, let alone getting married. But you two have it all worked out.”
Leslie wished she could erase all of Dawn’s disappointment, but a part of her knew it could have been worse. She could have ended up like Taylor. Leslie drove the thought from her mind, unable to comprehend something so horrendous happening to someone she loved.
“He wasn’t the right guy for you. Let him go. You’ll find him one day.”
Tears gathered in Dawn’s eyes. “No, I’m not like you. You’ve always known what you wanted. Ever since we were little, you had everything figured out while I was still struggling. You were the smart one, the interesting one, and I … well, I was just trying to keep up.”
Leslie turned off the ignition and raised her sister’s chin, determined to get through to her. “I want you to listen to me. You’re just as smart, as funny, and definitely as pretty as me. And you never had to prove anything to me or anyone else. We’re sisters, twin sisters, and nothing you do will ever make me jealous. I want you to be happy. That’s all I ever wanted. I knew you weren’t happy with Beau.”
A teardrop slipped down Dawn’s cheek. “I’m sorry, Leelee. I was a bitch to you when I was with him. I shouldn’t have been. You’re my sister and I—”
“Hey,” Leslie cut her off. “You never need to apologize to me.”
A knock on the window made both girls jump. Dawn wiped her face when she saw Derek.
“Are you guys okay?”
Leslie opened her door and climbed out, anxious to chase away her blues. “We’re great. Get in and let’s go shopping.”
Derek wrapped her in his arms and kissed her nose. “Shopping? You said we were going to hang out.”
Leslie took an extra second to escape inside the warmth of his embrace. The world seemed a beautiful place when he held her. The ugliness, the hate, the anger didn’t touch her in his arms.
“Hey.” Derek held her back, studying
her face. “What is it?”
She yearned to tell him but couldn’t. It wasn’t her secret to share.
“I’m just glad to see you.”
“I’ve got news.” He lifted her chin. “Mom got that job at the law firm. She’ll be working as a secretary in Covington. No more diner.”
Leslie’s troubles washed away. “That’s great.”
He nodded. “Yep. She’s so excited. I can’t remember when I’ve seen her so happy.” He kissed her lips. “Thank you.”
“Hey, you two,” Dawn called from the car. “Get in. We’ve got Halloween costume shopping to do.”
Leslie peered up at the blue sky before she climbed back in the car, thanking the heavens for keeping everyone she loved safe.
“Are you guys sure you want me to go with you?” Derek asked as he secured his seatbelt. “You could just pick out costumes without me.”
Dawn put the car in drive. “Leslie and I have already decided we’re going to have matching costumes.” She giggled as she looked back at Derek. “If you’re not with us, we might choose pink tutus and ballerina shoes.”
He furrowed his brow. “Yeah, that’s not a good look for me.”
Leslie relaxed in her seat, snickering at his remark.
In the distance, she caught the tips of the white spires of The Abbey peeking out over the treetops. The dread lingering in the back of her mind resurrected, displacing her jovial mood. There was something about the place. She didn’t know what it was, but Leslie was sure of one thing—it wasn’t good.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
He wiped the damp cloth over the pale blue wall to remove the last remnants of the sticky adhesive he’d used to put up the posters of Bugatti cars and Victoria’s Secret models. The smooth plaster surface gleamed under the rag, and the paint his mother had selected—because she felt it would be calming for him—showed no signs of stress.
He stepped off the ladder and surveyed the stark walls of his room.
This is me.
The posters lay in a pile on his floor, along with his football trophies and athletic medals. He would box them up and take them to the attic.
Death by the River (A St. Benedict Novel Book 1) Page 25
