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

by Miranda Smith

  “They still believe Celia’s mother was posing as Anne. They know we had an argument because Regina saw you storm off, but I didn’t tell them what it was about.”

  I picture the beautiful faces of the Douglas family. Each one with their quirks and secrets. There are more people involved in this decision than Coop and myself. I think of Helena’s face, too. Her desperation to be proven right. I could give her that, if I had the strength.

  “How can I trust you?” His confession aside, he drugged me last night. Yesterday revealed a side of Coop I never knew existed. “I don’t know how.”

  “Do you love me?” He looks at me. There’s no anger in his face.

  “Yes,” I answer, honestly. “But I’m scared.”

  He looks out the window, leaning against the wall. “No one can do what I did and be proud. But I know I love you, Madison. I love you enough to tell you the truth, despite the fact it can ruin everything I care about.”

  “Can I take a shower?”

  “You don’t have to ask my permission. Do what you want.” Coop chuckles, then turns serious. “I’m sorry for slipping something in your drink. I only did it to protect you. I wanted to have a calm conversation. Not react on emotion.”

  I exit the bed slowly, walking closer to Coop to cross over to the bathroom. I’m afraid he might grab me, but he doesn’t. He keeps staring out the window. In this moment, he’s at peace.

  “I’m sorry,” he says. “If you leave me, I’ll understand. It won’t be easy, starting over again. I’m sure you’ll move back to the city and piece together the life you had. Maybe one day you’ll be happier. It’s obvious you’ve never been very happy here.”

  I close the bathroom door and lock it. I lean against the frame and release a deep breath. It feels like I’ve been holding it in for days. I can’t decide what my next move should be. I still very much love the man standing on the other side of the door. Those feelings haven’t disappeared, despite what he told me.

  I stay in the shower for a long time. I think about what he said about my return to the city. It wouldn’t be an easy transition. I’ve not worked in months, and I insisted on pouring a big chunk of my savings into the wedding. I’d be starting off in a far worse position than I left, not to mention the added emotional turmoil of knowing my fiancé is a murderer. Ex-fiancé. Ah, I don’t know what to think. Deep down, I know what should be done, but acting on that decision will be difficult.

  Eventually the images of the Douglases and Coop and Laura fade away. The one face that remains in my mind is Helena. All these years she’s suffered from not knowing what happened to her daughter, and yet, she’s known the truth all along. She tried telling me Coop was involved. She was right. But like Coop said, knowing the truth won’t bring Laura back. And turning Coop in won’t erase the love I have for him. In some ways, it would be easier if he was a madman with threats and danger. But he’s not. He’s just my Coop.

  Forty-Nine

  Madison

  Coop is very much the same person. Has been for the past two days. Nothing feels different, and yet everything has changed. At least I don’t feel like I’m in immediate danger. We never discuss Laura or Celia. We don’t talk about the wedding either. I think we’re both waiting on the other shoe to drop, neither of us knowing what that means.

  “Are you okay with having my family over for dinner on Monday?” he asks.

  I’m sitting away from him on the couch, flipping through a magazine. The news is on the television, but neither of us is watching.

  “Sure.” This is the first normal exchange we’ve had since the weekend. It’s the first sign that we’re going back to normal.

  He’s pleased with my answer because he smiles. “Regina wants to know all about her dress.”

  “She’ll have to try it on. Surely your mother knows someone who could do speedy alterations.”

  He smiles again, like he’s unwrapped a present. This is the first signal I’ve given him that the wedding is still on. “What about the other decisions? You know, the ones you’d thought were made by… Helena.”

  Hearing her name hurts. I don’t show it though. I flip the page of my magazine. “Your mom is arranging the last-minute details. She’s the one with the connections. I trust her judgment.”

  “Good to hear.” He stands and walks into the kitchen. “Would you like a glass of wine?”

  “Sure.”

  He comes back with two glasses, placing mine on the coffee table.

  “By the way, I stopped by the post office and rented a P.O. Box. I don’t want to run the risk of Helena sending anything to our house. I’ve gone through our phone records and blocked her number from both our phones, too.” He takes a sip. “I’ll make sure she doesn’t bother you again.”

  For the first time during our conversation, I look up. I hadn’t expected him to be this proactive, but it makes sense really. He trusts me, but only so much. “Good,” I say, reaching for my wine glass.

  Coop doesn’t know Helena has a different number, and that it’s written on a piece of paper I’ve hidden in the desk drawer.

  He sits beside me, rubbing his hand through my hair. “I love you so much.”

  I look at him, and don’t flinch when he leans in for a kiss.

  The next morning, Coop leaves for work. I get my cell phone and use it to call Helena. I can’t tell her everything I know. Helena very much runs on emotion, and, in her position, I can’t blame her. My emotions are certainly involved, but I’ve tried to remain practical. I must, in order to protect myself and everyone else involved.

  She answers after the first ring. “Madison?” she barks into the phone.

  “Yes, it’s me.”

  “Are you okay?” She sounds desperate. Scared.

  “I need you to do something for me.”

  “Have you talked to Cooper? What did he say—”

  “Helena, please. Just listen to me.” I give her clear instructions, all the while knowing she has no reason to follow through with what I say. She has no reason to trust me. I’m struggling to even trust myself. To know the difference between what is wrong and right.

  “I can do that.” The connection turns fuzzy, likes she’s moving around. “But why?”

  “I can’t talk long. Just do what I say.”

  “Then tell me why!” She’s frustrated. It’s been almost a week since our last conversation, enough to test anyone’s patience. “I’ve poured my heart out to you—”

  “Just trust me. Please.” I take a deep breath. It’s hard talking to this woman, hearing her pain. If she’ll only do what I ask, life can return to its new normal. “And don’t call this number again.”

  I hang up, and for what feels like the hundredth time this week, I have a good, long cry.

  Fifty

  Helena

  I did exactly as Madison instructed. I try not to be too critical of her, but I can’t help being frustrated with the fact she hasn’t left Cooper. I’ve driven by their house every day this week, and her car is still parked in the driveway. Its presence worried me at first. What if he’d done something to her? Hearing her voice over the phone alleviated that stress, but I’m tired of waiting for what comes next. I’ve spent the last decade of my life waiting. Telling Madison about Cooper was supposed to put an end to all of this, not drag it out further.

  Each day, I wait for a sign from Madison. A call. A text. She told me not to reach out, but I don’t think she’s stopping to think about how excruciating that is for me. It’s been days since I did what she told me to do.

  I dial her number, my heart sinking after each unanswered ring. When it goes to voicemail, I’m defeated. Doesn’t Madison understand I’m already in purgatory, that she’s now the person deciding my fate? I press redial, intending to leave a message. Instead, the line connects.

  “Hello?” she whispers into the phone.

  “Madison?” I’m so happy to hear her voice again. “Are you okay?”

  “You can’t call me.
I told you—”

  “I did as you told me.” I can hear her scurrying around on the other end of the line. “I only want to know what all this means.”

  “You have to leave me alone,” she says. This time her volume is louder, and her tone is sterner. “I have nothing more to say to you.”

  “What are you talking about? Madison, please don’t do this to me now. Just—”

  There’s more turmoil on the other end. I panic, thinking maybe I’ve put her in a dangerous position by calling. How selfish of me! My need for understanding outweighed her safety. Then, the activity finishes. I hear shallow breaths puffing into the receiver.

  “Madison?” I ask.

  “This is Cooper.”

  His voice pierces through my skin, jolting fear into my heart. I almost drop the phone. This is our most direct interaction in years. Our first real communication since the vigil. I want to lunge through my device and scratch him. I should have known better than to go through Madison, expecting a different outcome. I should have gone after him.

  “Helena? Are you there?” he asks.

  “Yes,” I say, my voice shaky.

  “Helena, you need to leave us alone now,” he says, calmly. “You’ve done enough damage.”

  “I’ve done enough damage!” The outrage of such a statement! Coming from the man I know killed my daughter. “You’ve never taken accountability for what you’ve done. Cooper, you—”

  “We’ve tried to handle this civilly,” he continues, cutting me off. “If you try to communicate with either one of us, we’ll be seeking a restraining order. Again.”

  The phone clicks off. I fall to my knees, melting into the stained carpet of this God-awful motel room. Anguish leaves my body in a medley of moans and tears. I can’t believe I’ve just talked to him. That he knows I’ve talked to her. I can’t believe I’m no closer to achieving the justice I came here to find.

  Fifty-One

  Madison

  Coop places the phone on the kitchen counter.

  “Why did you have to get involved?” I ask. I’m angry. Ever since he told me about Laura, he’s been inserting himself more into my life. I don’t like it, this sense of losing control. I don’t let him see my disappointment; I continue cooking dinner like nothing is wrong.

  “How long has she been calling you?”

  “She called once a few days ago. I called back, not realizing it was her.”

  “What did she say?”

  “It wasn’t a long call. When I realized it was Helena, I told her not to call back.”

  “And yet here she is. She’s changed her number.” He slaps a palm against the refrigerator. “The woman won’t stop.”

  “I’m sure she will now that you’ve talked to her.” I walk past him and return to the chopping block. I resume slicing carrots.

  “Are you angry with me?” he asks, his voice delicate. I think of how I treated Coop when I first learned people suspected him of killing Celia. I was reluctant to admit it then, but now I know I was watching him, analyzing his every move as a sign of whether he could be trusted. That’s how he watches me now.

  “I’m fine,” I say, clacking the knife against the wood. “I can handle Helena on my own. I don’t need you interfering.”

  “It’s my fault she’s bothering you.” He leans against the refrigerator and raises his hands to his head. This is where I need him: guilt-ridden, not distrustful. It’s bad enough he’s sorting through the mail and asking questions about where I go during the day. He doesn’t like losing control either.

  “She’s a sad, lonely woman. She doesn’t have anything tying you to Laura.” I stumble over her name.

  “Maybe we should get a restraining order. Get ahead of this thing.”

  I turn and face him, the knife dangling from my right hand. “Do you really think that’s our best move right now? Involving the police?”

  “You’re right.” He paces around the kitchen with his arms crossed. “I just wish there was a way we could keep her away.”

  “I told you. Hearing your voice probably spooked her.” I turn and start chopping. “Don’t worry so much.”

  Coop walks up behind me and kisses my neck. “I’m so lucky to have you.”

  “No,” I say, rubbing my cheek against his temple, tightening my grip on the knife. “I’m the lucky one.”

  Fifty-Two

  Madison

  Coop was supposed to be home more than an hour ago. His tardiness worries me, just as every deviation from routine makes my pulse race these days. I’m wearing a pencil skirt and blouse with nude heels. I must appear like a Douglas family wannabe, regardless of how I feel inside. I don’t want anyone picking up on the shift in our relationship, and I’m already anxious because Coop mentioned they know about our fight.

  I hear the door slam and Coop’s steps thundering up the stairs. By the time he enters our bedroom, I’m standing in front of our mirror perfecting my lipstick.

  “My family should be here any minute.” He throws his briefcase on the bed, refusing to look at me. Something is off.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “I don’t want to get into it right now.” He brushes my shoulder as he enters the bathroom. I hear the faucet running and the sound of splashing. When he walks out, his face and neckline are damp.

  “Talk to me, Coop.” I touch his forearm to try and calm him. I’m nervous.

  He stares at me for a minute, deciding whether to bend. “I checked the bank account earlier today. You’ve moved some money out of our joint account.”

  “Money for the wedding,” I say, quickly. “I told you that.”

  “What’s the money going toward exactly? Mom is paying off the last-minute bookings.”

  “I know, but I moved some money over before that.”

  “In the last week, you’ve been making small withdrawals. Where’s that going?”

  I sit on the bed and inhale through my nose, trying to appear relaxed. “I’ve been trying to pay myself back for money I’ve spent along the way. My personal checking account is getting low, and I obviously don’t have any form of income.”

  “Right.” His tone is sarcastic and cruel. He unbuttons his shirt and slings it onto the bed.

  I walk to him and press my hands on his shoulders. “I’ve also been setting aside funds for our honeymoon, when we get around to planning it, that is. What’s the big deal?”

  He slides his arms into a new shirt, staring at my reflection in the mirror. His gaze tests mine, trying to decipher the truth.

  “What’s going on?” I ask, soothingly.

  He sits on the bed. “I worried you were trying to move money around without me knowing.”

  “Why would I do that?” I ask, raising my arms and dropping them at my sides.

  He starts to say something but stops. “I don’t know.” He turns and continues buttoning his shirt.

  He does know, as do I. He thinks I’m collecting some type of emergency fund for when I leave him. Coop has been spiraling since he told me the truth about Laura. He’s used to being in control, confident. He’d thought confessing might bring us closer together, perhaps alleviate the guilt he’s been carrying alone all these years. But that part of him that craves order is crumbling. He’s not convinced about what I might do.

  “You have to trust me, Coop.” I rest my head on his chest. “The way I trust you.”

  He looks at me for a second, and I can see the regret he feels. I’m thankful for this conversation, though. It provides insight into what I can and can’t do.

  The Douglases arrive ten minutes later. Regina marches straight to the refrigerator and places a pie inside. Roman stands behind her, waiting for her to move so he can deposit his beer. Josephine peers into the oven and spies our entrée, then turns to me.

  “I feel like it’s been ages since we’ve seen you, Madison.” She smiles, then looks at Coop. “And you.”

  “It’s been one of those weeks,” he says, taking a seat at the table. “I
’m happy everyone was free tonight.”

  “Nectar has been slammed lately. There was a slow period after someone started that rumor about food poisoning,” Regina says, rolling her eyes. “I’m happy things are back on track. Guess it makes sense you went dress shopping without me.”

  “I’d planned on only window shopping,” I say. “When I saw your dress, I knew it was the one. I hope you agree.”

  “Speaking of the wedding,” Josephine says, taking a seat at the table, “I’ve got an idea I wanted to run by the both of you.”

  Coop and I share a look before sitting beside each other. “What is it?” I ask.

  “How would you feel about moving up the date?”

  “Moving up the date?” I ask, my voice strained.

  “I’ve worked my magic and asked around. Apparently, there’s a wedding that’s been canceled, and if we act fast, we can book all their vendors,” she says. “The cake, the entertainer, the florist.”

  “How soon?” Coop asks.

  “One month.” She holds out her palms and smiles. “I know it sounds crazy, but since the original invitations never went out, we could change the date and still have time to let people know. Lord knows the people around here would drop anything to be there. We’d have everything exactly as you wanted.”

  I feel all their eyes on me, and I’m trying hard to hide my angst. I can’t help wondering if they’re speeding up the wedding to protect Coop. What if he whispered this suggestion into Josephine’s ear?

  “I think we can pull it off,” Coop says, looking at me for an answer.

  I take a sip of my wine and smile. “Sure. Everything else is already sorted.”

  “Regina and I can help you get the invitations in the mail. I’ve already spoken with the entertainment. If you could get me a list of songs for the reception, that would be great.” Josephine places both palms together. “It’s just perfect.”