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

by Miranda Smith

  Roman did as he was told. He hoisted Celia onto the boat and rode to one of the deepest points of Whisper Lake. Along the way, he stopped by a cove and found a heavy rock and, using rope from the boat, fastened it to her leg. He found a bottle of his father’s liquor in one of the boat’s cabinets and drank. The bitter taste soothed him. For several minutes, he sat alone. He listened to the water splash against the hull and gazed at the dazzling stars blinking above. He’d hoped Celia might wake and this could all be avoided. But that didn’t happen.

  He lifted Celia onto the ledge, staring at the dark water beneath them both. He dropped the rock first, feeling it pull against her body. For a few seconds, he held her still in his arms. As he let go of her waist, he heard a whimper. It was the most frightening sound he’d ever heard.

  That sound would haunt him during quiet moments in the years to come.

  Sixty-Four

  Madison

  The house is silent, except for the crackling of the fire. Roman won’t raise his eyes to meet mine. Josephine, however, looks directly at me. Her tears have dried, and there is a deep wrinkle between her brows.

  “Roman,” I say, my throat raspy. “Why are you here?”

  “I told him to come here,” Josephine says, placing a hand on her son’s shoulder. There’s a perceptible wince, but he remains still.

  Something about this interaction feels dangerous, but I can’t pinpoint why. “If you’re trying to help Coop—”

  “Cooper is at risk because someone turned him in,” Josephine interjects, taking a step closer to me. “Based on your slip a few moments ago, I think that person is you.”

  I look to Roman, as though he might help me, though clearly that’s not what he’s here to do. “It doesn’t matter who turned him in,” I say, flailing for excuses. “He confessed.”

  “That confession can be thrown out,” she says. “As long as there isn’t someone to corroborate his story.”

  I step closer to the fire, feeling the warmth of the flames near my skin. “They won’t need anyone to corroborate his story once they find Laura’s body.”

  At the sound of her name, Roman shudders. He tips his head upwards, staring at the ceiling.

  “No one has looked for Laura Price in years,” Josephine says. “You’ve been here two months, and they have dive teams swarming the lake?”

  “I love Coop, but what he did all those years ago—”

  “Don’t insult us with your proclamations of love.” Josephine sits in the armchair, crossing her legs, without ever breaking eye contact. “Love is unconditional. Mother to son. Brother to brother. Husband to wife. You’ve betrayed my son, and all of us in the process.”

  I try not to wilt under her hypnotic stare. “Josephine, I can’t imagine how difficult all this must be for you. Learning what Coop did all those years ago.”

  “Are you that dense? You think I only found out about Laura Price tonight?” She leans forward, ensuring her words sink in. “A mother knows her son.”

  I blink away tears, trying to remember everything Coop told me. “He said you didn’t know—”

  “I told her,” Roman says at last, stepping away from the wall.

  “You knew?”

  “Cooper needed help getting rid of the body, so he called me,” he says. “I’m the one who drove her back to Whisper and left her in the lake. I had to tell Mom. We were kids. We’d never have managed to cover it up without guidance.”

  Roman has known about Laura this entire time. It explains why Coop won’t tell the police about Laura’s remains. He doesn’t want Roman to get in trouble. Hell, Coop may not even know where he put the body. I look to Josephine, seeing her for what feels like the first time. “Guidance?” I ask. Even being their mother, I can’t believe she’d condone such behavior.

  “Cooper was already upset. It was best he never knew about my involvement,” Josephine says. She breaks eye contact, looking at the assortment of rings on her hands. “I told Roman what to do with the body. I told him to buy those festival tickets and clean the apartment. The boys made some mistakes, but they did better than last time. At least Laura’s body still hasn’t been found.”

  Last time. A cry escapes my lungs, and I take another step back, almost stumbling into the fire. “Celia? Did you have something to do with her, too?”

  “You aren’t the first woman to try and interfere with my family.” She looks at me again, her stare sharp enough to pierce through me.

  I’m scared. No one is coming to my rescue. My phone and keys are on the other side of Josephine and Roman, two immovable threats. I focus only on this moment, on this dynamic which is turning unsafe.

  “We can figure another way out of this,” I say, knowing the suggestion is futile.

  “I’m sorry, Madison. Our hands are tied.” She looks over her shoulder at Roman. “Get her.”

  He darts after me, barely giving me time to skirt between the fireplace and sofa. Either way I turn, I’m blocked. This spacious home is closing in. He corners me behind an armchair. I raise my hand to strike him, but he grabs my wrist, twisting it downward. I attempt to kick him, but my strength is no match for his. He grabs my other arm, attaching both wrists with zip ties. He pushes my body onto the sofa.

  “Now what?” Roman asks, pacing manically in front of the fireplace.

  “We’ll take her to one of the rental properties. There’s too much activity at the lake,” Josephine says.

  “My statement is already on record. Even if I disappear, they’ll use what I told them against Coop. You don’t have to do this.” I’m speaking to Josephine, but I hope Roman hears me. Something in his nature makes me think he’s not as convinced killing me is the right option.

  “The police may have your statement, but you have a habit of telling lies,” Josephine says, pulling my attention back to her. “At least that’s why you lost your job at the Chronicle.”

  Remembering my career and why I lost it seems foreign now, in this moment of life or death. My breathing slows, as I remember what life was like before I moved here. “What do you know about that?”

  “I know everything about it,” she says, her lips twisting into a smile. “Cooper had played around in the city long enough. I had to bring him back here, but I knew that wouldn’t happen unless you joined him. I’d been in Atlanta three days. Bernard Wright’s name was everywhere at that time. I could tell you were a spitfire. You’d chase a story if the right one was presented. All I needed to do was put the pieces in place.”

  “You planted that story?” All this time I’d assumed Bernard Wright’s defense team set a trap and I fell for it. I never dreamed it was Josephine.

  “That girl was paid handsomely for the little yarn she told you.”

  She’s enjoying this, revealing just how involved she’s been with everything from the start. Celia. Laura. My job in the city. I never realized how crucial a role she played in all these scenarios; I’m not sure Coop knew the measures his mother took to keep things on her terms.

  “Can we leave?” Roman asks, scratching the back of his neck. He’s antsy, growing tired of hearing us talk. He must have some idea of what gruesome fate I’m about to meet, and he’s sick of stalling.

  “You don’t have to do this, Roman,” I tell him, shifting my body to face him. “She can’t control you like this.”

  “She’s not controlling me,” he bellows, but it’s unconvincing. His eyes bounce between us. “I’m sorry, Madison.”

  “Don’t apologize to her,” Josephine says. “Besides, we’d never be in this mess if it weren’t for you. Haven’t you betrayed your brother enough?”

  I’m not sure what this comment means, but it’s enough to wrestle Roman back into submission. He turns from both of us, waiting for his mother’s next order.

  Sixty-Five

  Helena

  There are cars in the driveway, but in the dark, I don’t immediately recognize who they belong to. I park by the main road and walk toward Madison’s house. Ol
d habits from spying on her. I can’t imagine who she might have enlisted to console her at this hour, but I don’t want to interrupt if it’s anyone important.

  I mount the porch step, peering through the window to see who is inside. Madison is sitting on the couch. Across from her sits Josephine. Pacing between them is Roman, Cooper’s brother. A pang of sympathy breaks through for Josephine; some people might expect me to gloat in a moment like this, but I know how painful it is to lose a child. Cooper’s gone now, and although punishment is what he deserves, it’s no doubt a difficult conclusion for his mother to accept.

  It’s best not to intrude on this family meeting. I slink down the steps but jerk my head back to the window when I hear a scream. Madison has fallen over the cushions. Roman jerks her to a standing position, keeping one hand on her shoulder. When she turns, I see her wrists are bound together in front of her body. Josephine remains seated, her back to the window. I’m not sure what I’m witnessing, but it can’t be good.

  I skate back to my vehicle and retrieve my weapon from the glove compartment. I rush back to the porch, looking through the window. Now all three are standing. Josephine is poking at the fireplace, extinguishing the flames. Roman’s hands are still on Madison’s shoulders. She’s crying.

  I flatten my body along the house. Think, I tell myself. I’m unsure what’s happening inside, but clearly Madison is distraught. Footsteps on the other side of the wall pound closer, approaching the front door.

  Roman is the first outside. My arms are extended, so that when he steps on the porch, the tip of my gun aligns perfectly with his head. He jumps back.

  “What the hell?”

  “Back inside,” I say, stepping one foot inside the house.

  Josephine’s pupils dilate when she sees the gun. Whatever they had planned for tonight, they weren’t expecting me to intrude with a weapon. I wasn’t expecting it either. My arms begin to shake, but my confidence builds when I see the frightened look on Madison’s face.

  “Get back,” I say, using my gun to herd everyone away from the door. I reach behind and pull the knob, locking me inside with my terrified captives.

  “Helena,” Madison shrieks. “You need to call the police.”

  Is she frightened for me? Relieved I’m here? It’s hard to tell. All I can take in are her terrified eyes and bound wrists.

  “What’s going on here?” I ask, utterly clueless as to what situation I’ve found myself in.

  “Who are you?” Josephine asks. She meets me with that pious stare I memorized years ago. In the adrenaline-packed chaos, she doesn’t remember who I am. After a few moments, recognition sinks in and now Josephine’s terror matches that of Madison’s.

  “They’re going to kill me for turning on Coop,” Madison says.

  “Shut it,” Roman says, sinking his fingers into her shoulder blade. Madison writhes in pain. He looks to his mother. “Mom, who is this?”

  “It’s Helena Price,” she answers, never taking her eyes off me. “Laura’s mother.”

  Hearing my daughter’s name wilts the poor boy. He lets go of Madison and starts running toward the kitchen.

  “Stop,” I shout, still unsure of what threat might exist if he leaves. Will he run away? Return with a weapon? Right now, my only advantage is the gun in my hand. I need to keep control of the situation, even if I’m unsure what that situation is. When he won’t stop retreating, I close my eyes and shoot.

  The pop is loud and jarring, followed only a second later by the sound of Roman’s body hitting the floor. Josephine shrieks, pushing past me and Madison to reach her son. Madison falls back on the sofa, her mouth open as she stares ahead. I step forward, trying to assess what damage I’ve done. My body fills with relief when I hear Roman moaning and see I’ve only clipped his shoulder. He’s hurting, but he’s alive.

  Josephine, kneeling beside her son, looks at me with tears in her eyes. “What have you done?”

  “I told him to stop,” I say, lifting the gun again. “Move away from him.”

  “You’re a crazy old woman,” Josephine shouts, while obeying my order. She stands, leaving her son on the floor to cup his wound. “Can’t you move on with your life and leave us to ours?”

  “You’re a mother,” I say. “You know the answer to that.”

  “You shot my son!” Josephine shouts.

  “Your son killed my daughter!” I scream, and now I’m crying, too. “Don’t you have any sympathy for what I’ve been through? For what your family has done to me all these years?”

  For a moment, she sobs, but then she recovers. That arrogant attitude is back and there’s nothing but rage reverberating between us. Josephine charges, catching me off guard. Her body pummels into my abdomen, knocking me off my feet and slinging the gun from my hands. I don’t have time to retrieve it. I’m too busy fighting off Josephine’s blows. We both stop when we hear Roman’s voice. He’s standing, holding the gun in his hands.

  “Shoot her, Roman,” Josephine yells. “Shoot both of them.”

  Madison, her arms still bound in front, moves back. She stares at the gun.

  Roman releases a deep breath. Tears snake down his cheek as he looks between his mother and me. “This isn’t right.”

  “It’s not about what’s right. It must be done,” Josephine says. “To protect your brother. To protect me.”

  “I’m not doing this.” He lowers his hand and places the gun on the floor. Using his foot, he kicks the gun, not in the direction of his mother, but to Madison.

  Madison lifts the weapon shakily. It’s hard for her to grip it with her bound hands, but once she has it, she runs into the kitchen. Josephine tries to chase after her, but I grab her leg, pulling her down.

  “What the hell are you doing?” she asks her son, equal parts furious and shocked.

  “Changing.” He walks to the bar cart by the fireplace and pours a stiff drink. He sits on the sofa. “I’m not going to be an accomplice to this anymore.”

  Madison returns from the kitchen. She’s not holding the gun, probably having hidden it somewhere, and she’s unfastened her restraints. She searches the living room, sorting through the mess we’ve made until she finds her phone. We listen as she provides the 911 operator with an address and the names of all the people inside. Every few seconds, Josephine tries to move again, but I pin her down, until she’s finally too tired to move.

  “How could you do this?” Josephine whines. “I’m your mother.”

  “I’m your son,” Roman says, swallowing the last of his drink. “How could you do this to me?”

  Their exchange references more than what has happened tonight. If what Madison says is true, they’d planned on killing her, eliminating the one person who could send Cooper to jail. Roman reaches into his pocket, pulls out a zip-tie and tosses it to Madison.

  Madison comes closer, helping me hold Josephine down long enough to fasten the plastic around her wrists. At least now Josephine no longer has the same range of motion, although I think she’s exhausted her will to fight. She turns away from us, her body flat against the floor, and cries.

  “Are you okay? Did they hurt you?” I ask Madison. There’s still a lot of fear in the room. Every minute that passes feels dangerous and unsure.

  “I’m fine,” she says, still out of breath. Her eyes dance between Roman and Josephine, making sure they’re still docile. She looks back at me with tears in her eyes. “Thank you.”

  I squeeze her hand, sensing my own tears are about to break free. “Thank you. It couldn’t have been easy.”

  We hug. As she pulls from my embrace, we hear sirens in the distance. The police are coming.

  Sixty-Six

  Madison

  Three Months Later

  I’m watching her. Helena.

  She stumbles over the small dunes of sand on the uneven beach. There’s a circle of mourners already waiting, each one nodding as she passes. She’s carrying a gilded urn. Laura’s body was found in Whisper Lake.

&nb
sp; Helena holds hands with a man, maybe it’s her ex-husband, and they walk to the water. They stand still, the weak waves lapping at their calves. I think they’re praying. After several minutes, they walk back to the sand, joining the other gatherers. Each person takes turns speaking, sharing happy stories about Laura and revealing the impact she had on their lives. Former neighbors and teachers and classmates. She was clearly loved.

  The wake ends and people walk their separate ways. As Helena exits the beach, she spots me sitting on my bench at the sidewalk. She pauses, then walks closer. She’s wearing white, her dress damp from the knees down. I stand, and we hug.

  “I’m happy you came,” she says, her lips close to my ear. “You could have joined us on the beach.”

  “I thought it would be best to let you visit with the people who knew her.”

  She sits beside me. We stare ahead, and for a moment, don’t say anything, just listen to the waves crash along the shoreline.

  “It’s beautiful here, isn’t it?” Helena asks.

  I nod. I’ve never been to South Carolina before. The atmosphere is so different from the mountains in Whisper and the streets of Atlanta. I imagine Helena’s life is different here, too. Normal.

  “Are you back in Atlanta?” she asks.

  “Just briefly,” I say, looking down. This is the first time I’ve seen Helena since the night she rescued me. Being this close to her brings back painful memories. “I’m staying with my friend Beth. I accepted a job in another state, so I’ll be leaving soon.”

  “That’s wonderful.” Helena’s voice rises an octave. She’s happy I’m making progress. “Change is good.”

  Helena and I talk on the phone from time to time, mainly when there’s a development in the case. Every few weeks there’s something, it seems. I think Roman is working on a deal, but Josephine is adamant about going to trial. They made the decision to re-open Celia’s case, so more charges could be pending. Then there was news Laura’s body had been discovered. Contrary to Cooper’s claims that her death was accidental, Laura’s skull had multiple fractures. A single fall didn’t cause her death; pure rage did. Maybe to him it was an accident. He hadn’t meant for her to die. The anger he displayed that night was beyond his own comprehension, ruining so many lives in the process.