Cooper and I hadn’t had a chance to talk. He’d maintained his distance—not in a chilly way, but in a professional manner. We’d talk later, after everyone else was gone.
Detective Hensley closed his notebook. “Good work, Ms. Lancaster.”
I pulled my sweatshirt over my hands. I wasn’t necessarily cold, but I found great comfort in the oversized Miami Dolphins hoodie. “There’s one thing I still don’t understand, detective. What happened to Danielle’s body?”
He shrugged. “Miss Mystic claimed she buried Danielle in that empty field where she led us. She says someone moved it before we arrived, and that she has no idea who would do that.”
My brain started whirring. Who liked to watch people without being seen? Who might have found Danielle’s body and, worried about her soul, decided to move it because he loved her so much? “Talk to Philip Whitehurst.”
The detective cocked an eyebrow. “Philip Whitehurst?”
I nodded. “He was in love with Danielle. What if he saw what happened, if he saw someone move her body? He might have moved it out of respect for Danielle.”
The detective shrugged. “It’s worth looking into. We’ll talk to him.”
I had a feeling it had been Philip who was at my house that first night also. Maybe he was on the lookout for Danielle’s spirit, too?
The detective held out his hand. “Thanks for your help in the case. Miss Mystic will be getting some of that attention that she sought—not exactly how she wanted it, but that’s okay.”
After the detective left, Candy and Mickey went back to a friend’s place to edit their video. Tomorrow, I’d call Bryce Stephens and offer him the first scoop on the story. It was the least I could do since he’d helped me.
But now I had to face Cooper.
I’d almost rather face an entire medieval army bent on torture than risk my heart again. My throat burned as I turned to him, realizing there was no one else here to distract us.
“Can we talk?”
Cooper’s gaze searched mine until he finally nodded. “Sure.” He led me to the couch. He sat on one end, and I sat on the other. I pulled a pillow into my lap and wrapped my arms around it.
“I heard about what you did at church today. I think that was brave and courageous of you.”
“Thanks.” The timbre of my voice made me sound like an oversized frog who’d been singing too loudly at a Jimmy Buffet concert.
He was waiting for me to start. But I had no idea how to do that. There was no elegant way to say what I had to say. “I’m sorry I hurt you. I’m sorry I embarrassed you in front of your friends from church. I wanted to tell you everything. I did.”
“So why didn’t you?”
I stared at my legs, at the pillow, anywhere but at Cooper. “I was afraid that you’d believe the rumors instead of me. Or that there would always be this lingering doubt in your mind. I couldn’t bear the thought of that.”
“Do you want to tell me your version of what happened?”
I nodded, sucked in a deep breath of courage, and plunged in. I told him everything—about the accusations, how it affected my relationship with Peter, how people I’d loved had turned their backs on me. When I finished, I held my breath, waiting for him to respond.
“But they never found enough evidence to press charges. The media called you the Saint Turned Sinner.”
I nodded. “Let me guess—you did an Internet search for me after you got home last night?”
He shook his head. “No, I knew who you were from the first day we met.”
My heart stopped, or at least it felt like it did. “What?”
He moved closer, lessening the space between us. “I visited my parents in Florida, and it was all the talk. I also listened to your dad’s radio show. I knew about everything that happened, Tara.”
“Why didn’t you run away then?”
He reached for my hand. “Why would I? The moment I looked into your eyes, I knew you were innocent.”
My heart started again, going from zero to sixty in five-point-two. “How could you be so sure?”
“Your eyes tell me everything about you. Mostly, they let me see your heart. There’s not an ounce of evil in you, Tara.”
“I was married to Peter, and he didn’t believe me.”
“Then he’s an idiot.”
As my lips pulled upward, tears of joy streamed down my cheeks. “That really means a lot to me. Thanks Cooper.”
“I was hoping you would trust me enough to tell me yourself.”
“I thought about it a million times.” I shrugged, wiping my cheeks with the back of my hand. “The thing is, this kid may have done the same thing to another teacher out in Texas. My attorney’s trying to gather any evidence right now. I thought if I could wait until that was firmed up and tell you then that maybe you’d believe me. That you’d really believe me.”
He reached up and wiped my remaining tears with his thumb. “I’m sorry you had to go through all of that, Tara. Think about what Jesus had to go through when he died on the cross. Betrayal. Accusation. I don’t understand your pain, but he does.”
“I know.” More tears came a pouring. “I know that now. He’s going to bring something good from this. Something really good.”
Cooper smiled at me. “I think he already has.”
Joy burst in my heart. “I think he has too.”
Cooper scooted closer, until we were face to face. His hand caressed my cheek. “I just want you to know that you can trust me, Tara. I’ve got your back. Understand?”
I nodded. “Yeah, I understand.”
His lips touched mine.
Plastic surgery for the soul, I thought. Yeah, Lana was right. All it took was some redemption, grace, and authenticity to get the sought-after results.
Chapter 35
Lana and I had spent the three days since she’d been home catching up. I’d met her fiancé, Nate Sandler, a guy who played in an acoustic rock band and liked to wear sandals with socks and had dreads in his hair. He seemed like a genuinely nice guy, so I’d let the sandals and dreads get a pass for now.
A week had passed since the police found Danielle Miller’s body. Philip Whitehurst had come to the house after Miss Mystic killed her. He’d arrived in time to see Miss Mystic pull away with the body in her car. When he’d seen her body, he worried that her soul would be forever tarnished—and that he’d be found guilty. So he’d moved her body to the woods to keep it safe. With someone else behind bars and without the fear of being framed himself, he told the police where it was. He said she could have a proper funeral now. I guess in his own sick, twisted way it had been the final kind act of an obsessive stalker.
Finally, Jeremy could get some resolution. Miss Mystic had definitely gotten her thirty seconds of fame. I only hoped she didn’t get off on some mental plea, because to do everything that she’d done, she was off of her rocker.
Meanwhile, Zack Morris, who was now nineteen, had been arrested for grifting. As a part of a plea bargain, he rolled on his mom and confessed to everything. He’d told police that his mom had schemed the entire plan to get money. Finally, I felt free. Despite that, I had no desire to return to Miami. I knew that one day I’d be able to fully forgive the people who’d treated me poorly, but I needed more time to heal first.
Today was Candy’s birthday, and she’d invited us all to the park to celebrate. I bristled slightly at the thought because the park seemed like such an odd place for Candy to want to have a birthday party.
Cooper was driving me there, and Austin sat in the backseat, the loveliest little boy I’d ever met. I’d so much enjoyed having him around. We pulled up to the park, and Austin ran on ahead to the playground. Before I got out of the car, Cooper grabbed my hand and pulled me back in.
He gave me a quick kiss. Even his touch sent fire through my blood. Instinctively, I reached up and caressed his cheek. “I’m glad you’re going to stay around for a while.”
“I’m glad I’m going to stay
around for a while. You were right, Cooper. God brought me through everything that he did, but I’m a better person for it. My faith is stronger, my confidence clearer. And I met you and Austin.”
He smiled and kissed me again. “We should go.”
I nodded, reluctantly letting him go as we climbed out. Our hands instantly entwined together as we walked up a grassy hill. I saw Candy and some of her friends standing there.
Just what was she planning?
As soon as I reached the top of the hill, I saw a huge mud pit. I glanced over at Candy and saw the mischievous grin on her face. “Guess what we’re doing for my birthday?”
“Cleaning up this atrocity in the park?”
Her grin broadened. “We’re mud wrestling! I organized the whole thing as a part of a fundraiser to raise money for the homeless program at The Mercy House.”
I have a new set of rules now. The rules of relationship, and there were really only two commandments: Love God, and Love People. I’m ending my love affair with the church and I’m moving in with God—not just leaving my toothbrush at his house. I’m all in. Committed. Church...well, it’s going to be a part of the equation, but mostly I just wanted to fall in love again with Jesus.
With that, I slipped off my watch and handed it to Cooper. Then I turned to Candy.
“Bring it, Jawbreaker.”
“You got it, Bora Bora.”
Acknowledgments
I’d like to thank my brother and his wife for inviting me to housesit in a creepy old Minnesota home filled with creaky floors, gates that mysteriously open at night, and windows without shades.
Thanks to everyone who has believed in this book over the years and who has encouraged me to keep pursuing this story.
Thanks to Roseanna, Dina and the rest of the gang over at Whitefire for giving this book a chance. I’m glad The Good Girl found a home with you.
To my loyal readers—thanks for sharing my dreams and embracing my stories. You all bring so much joy to the creative process.
Finally, thank you to Jesus, for His constant love and for giving me reason to hope and live.
Author’s Note
Thanks so much for taking the time to read The Good Girl. This book was born way back in 2003 when I was housesitting for my brother out in St. Paul. The creaky floors of his old house, along with the exposed windows and some other strange happenings got my imagination going. I asked the magic question that every writer at some point asks: What if…?
Even more than those suspenseful elements, I wanted to explore the idea of grace versus works. Growing up in the church, I’ve always been more of a “works” girl than I wanted to admit. I caught myself thinking that if I just followed all of the rules, then I’d somehow get special privileges, maybe even avoid some of the hard stuff in life.
Within a short period of time, several things in my life went wrong and made me realize that there was nothing I could do to make God love me more or less. I had to stop trying to earn God’s favor and accept that bad things happen to everyone. They’re simply a part of this journey called “life.”
I’ve come a long way in my journey for perfection. My hope is that if you’re a good girl—someone who’s constantly finding affirmation by doing things right—that you’ll cut yourself some slack and rest securely in God’s unending and unfailing love.
Life on earth can be hard and unfair. We can rest assured, however, that in all things God works for the good of those who love him, who have been called according to His purpose (Romans 8:28).
For “behind the scenes” look at The Good Girl, please visit my website at: www.christybarritt.com.
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Four wounded souls, two ruined lines, and darkness closing in.
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