Rosemary Run Box Set

by Kelly Utt

  “Why haven’t you answered him?”

  “I contacted Travis because I wanted to warn him about the anonymous caller who said they knew what I’d done. I felt like he had a right to know since he was there that night and could end up tangled up in this. But I’ve been trying to make a fresh start with John. To make things work between us again. I just want to keep my family together, you know?”

  “I hear you. Do you think you’re making the right decision?” Gabby continued.

  Bea chuckled. “What are you? A shrink? You’re answering every question with a question.”

  “And how does that make you feel?” Gabby said in her most therapist-like voice. The ladies laughed together.

  “That reminds me,” Bea added. “Jenny Maguire, the principal at Max’s school, gave me the name of a psychologist she thinks I should go see. And the attending physician at the hospital the other day recommended I follow her advice. I haven’t called the guy yet.”

  “Let’s get busy crossing some important things off your to-do list, shall we? Give me a day or so and I’ll see what I can come up with. Watch for my call. I’ll soon have news of progress. Okay, friend?”

  Gratefully, Bea agreed. With Gabby’s guidance, the two of them would take action towards sorting out Bea’s jumbled up life.

  30

  By the time Bea’s head hit the pillow, her confidence had been bolstered by her discussion with Gabby. The disappointment she had felt a few hours earlier about John not appreciating her efforts had begun to fade and she was more hopeful. Even though Gabby had never been married and didn’t have a child of her own, Bea valued her opinion. Bea had always assumed Gabby didn’t marry because owning the jewelry store kept her so busy. But maybe it also had something to do with the fact that Gabby refused to settle. Bea thought she would do well to follow her friend’s example.

  As she drifted off to sleep, Bea let herself imagine a world where she told the police what she had done and they didn’t arrest her. Gabby was right. That man had been trying to take her baby. Maybe it was the wine affecting her, but the thought seemed almost too good to be true.

  Could what I did be considered self-defense? Would that clear me in the eyes of the law?

  To ease her mind, Bea worked to picture herself as an honest woman, free and clear. She imagined herself being right by Max’s side during all of those special days she had written letters for. Wouldn’t it be grand if she could deliver those letters in person? Bea fell into dreamland, content.

  When her alarm sounded the next morning, Bea was surprised to find that John was not in bed next to her. The covers on his side were still pulled taut. He hadn’t come home at all last night. Bea felt sad as she thought about the implications. No matter how distant her husband had been in times past, he had always come home at night. Seeing him there on the other side of the bed when Bea opened her eyes every morning had been a comfort. His absence made her feel adrift. Like Gabby had so eloquently said, a leaf in the wind.

  Bea got up and got herself dressed for the day, then went downstairs to make breakfast and eat with Max and Lana. She expected a quiet morning, but those hopes were dashed when Max walked into the room and she saw the look of concern on his face.

  “What’s wrong?” Bea asked Max as she gave him a hug. “You look like something has upset you.”

  “You probably don’t want to know,” Max replied sheepishly.

  “Nonsense. If something has upset you, then I most definitely want to know. You’re my boy. We’re a team, remember?”

  Max shrugged his shoulders as he looked up at his mom. “It’s another video,” he said. “It was posted online early this morning, and it’s already had a bunch of views.”

  “It’s… Worse than the last,” Lana added, the worry evident on her face.

  “That bad?” Bea asked as she walked over to give her mom a hug. She was trying to make light of it for Max’s benefit, although she knew he’d probably have to face more blowback in school. What a mess.

  “See for yourself,” Max said, thrusting his smartphone towards his mom’s face. “It’s loaded up. Just hit play.”

  Bea did as instructed. As the picture moved, she recognized the same hooded figure, which spoke in the same robotic voice. It made her shudder. She was growing angry at whoever was doing this. Why were they so bent on exposing her, anyway? What did they stand to gain?

  “Keep watching,” Max said when Bea’s eyes drifted away from the screen. “You’re not paying close enough attention, Mom.” He used his finger to rewind the video, starting it at the beginning.

  “Okay, okay,” she said. “I’m watching.”

  Tuned into the message this time, Bea listened closely as the hooded figure repeated his claim. Rosemary Run Mayor John Hughes was covering up a murder that his wife committed. Only this time, the hooded figure’s claim was followed by footage of Bea being wheeled out of the high school and loaded up into the ambulance. Whoever shot this footage couldn’t have been more than ten feet away.

  As the hooded figure spoke, the words appeared on the screen for emphasis. The format was the same as last time. It seemed like the same person, that was for sure.

  “Beatrice Hughes is a cold-blooded murderer. She murdered a man at Eagle’s Point. John Hughes knew about it and didn’t notify the authorities. May they burn in hell for what they’ve done.”

  The video ended with a fiery scene and a demonic laugh in the background.

  The day the anonymous call had come in on the landline and Bea answered, fear had prevailed. But today, after watching the latest video, Bea was furious. “Damn,” she said. “What does this person want from me?”

  Lana shot Bea a look that told her to tread lightly. Max was around and hanging on his mother’s every word.

  “Is it true?” Max asked. It was a reasonable question, but one Bea had not been prepared for. “I remember us going to Eagle’s Point when I was little. I used to play on the playground there.”

  Bea looked at her mom for guidance. She was tempted to tell Max the truth right then and there. She certainly didn’t want to lie to him, but it was a lot to place on his young shoulders. Bea knew she needed to think carefully before involving him.

  Before she could answer her son, there was a loud knock at the front door.

  “I wonder who that could be,” Bea mumbled. “It’s not even seven AM.”

  “I’ll get it!” Max offered, moving towards the door.

  Bea was cautious about what her son might be stepping into, so she told him to wait while she answered it herself. “I’ve got it,” she said. She had a feeling it wasn’t good news.

  Before Bea opened the front door, she stepped close to it and looked through the peephole. The light was still dim outside and visibility was low. She flipped the switch to turn the porch light on. As she did, she saw a sudden burst of light pointing back towards the door. Unsure of what was happening and against her better judgment, she opened the front door.

  The moment the morning air hit her skin, camera flashes blinked all around her. A man dressed in a business suit and tie was shoving a microphone into her face while several others crowded behind him trying to do the same.

  “Mrs. Hughes!” the man shouted, assaulting Bea’s senses. “Is it true that you committed a murder at Eagle’s Point, like the video claims?”

  Before Bea could process what was happening, much less answer, the other microphones were coming at her and questions were being shouted from the crowd. She couldn’t tell who was saying what. It was all a dizzying blur.

  “Is your husband aware of the crime you committed?” a lady in a blue pants suit asked forcefully.

  “Are you going to turn yourself in now that you’ve been exposed?” a second lady in a pink fitted dress shouted.

  “Have you been contacted by the police?” the man in the front tried.

  “Mrs. Hughes! Mrs. Hughes!”

  They were like a pack of rabid animals, pushing and shoving to get close to B
ea and have their questions heard. She had seen this type of thing in the movies, but never in real life. She hadn’t experienced anything like it herself.

  “Mrs. Hughes, is your husband home? Why isn’t his vehicle in the driveway? Have the two of you split up because of the mounting accusations against you?” Now it was getting personal.

  Bea felt a shoulder brush against hers. Max. He had stepped into the door frame and joined her in view of the cameras. His mouth hung open as he looked at the gaggle of reporters and cameramen on his front lawn.

  “Mom, what are they doing here?” he whispered, the morning light shining on his troubled face.

  Cameras clicked even more furiously, and the flashes came faster as the media zoomed in on Max. The assault snapped Bea back to reality and out of her daze. “No comment,” she said matter-of-factly to the reporters, then she closed the front door and locked it tight, letting out an audible sigh of relief.

  “I’m so sorry about that, Max,” she said, knowing full well that this was just the beginning. “Those reporters are jackals. They prey on other people’s difficulties. Try not to pay them any attention.”

  “It’s a shameful profession, really,” Lana added, wrinkling up her mouth as she stepped to the window and looked out at them.

  Max watched his mom like a hawk. He looked determined to get answers. “Was what they said about Dad true? That that the two of you have separated? Why isn’t he home? He doesn’t usually leave for work this early.” The speed of his words went faster and faster, and they became higher pitched.

  Bea was at a loss. She had no idea what to do, yet she knew she needed to do something decisive to reassure her son. Lana could see her daughter’s discomfort, but wasn’t in much of a position to help. Bea was Max’s mother. As his grandmother, Lana knew she needed to let her take the lead.

  Before Bea could explain, they heard a commotion out front. The three of them walked to the window closest to the driveway and peaked out around the shades to see what was going on. Bea, Max, and Lana huddled together as they tried to glimpse what was happening without exposing too much of themselves in the window. Being in close physical proximity to her mother and son helped steady Bea. An image flashed through her mind of the three of them being like the center of the wheel, standing back to back with everything else in the world at arm’s length spinning around them. She thought that as long as the three of them had each other, they could face anything.

  “It’s Dad!”

  The familiar sounds of John’s SUV coming to a stop and then cutting its engine made their way inside. No wonder his arrival had captured the media’s attention. They began to shout questions at John even louder than they had at Bea. It sounded like a feeding frenzy in the wild. Even though Bea was mad at John and wasn’t sure how they could move forward together, she felt bad that he was under attack.

  As the noise of the shouting reached a fever pitch, John unlocked the back door with his key and then burst inside, tightening the shades down behind him. “My God! These people are ruthless,” he said as he began to pace around the kitchen while Bea, Max, and Lana looked on. He was wearing the same clothes he’d had on at Honey Hog last night and he looked like he hadn’t showered.

  “Dad, where have you been?” Max asked eagerly. “Did you stay out all night?”

  John eyeballed Bea, apparently wondering what she had told their son. “Don’t look at me,” Bea said. “I’d like to know the answer to Max’s questions, too.”

  John hesitated. He chewed his fingernails as he continued to pace. It was an unusual thing for him to do. Bea didn’t think she’d ever seen him bite his fingernails in all the time she’d known him.

  Lana made the best offer she could. “Bea, dear,” Lana began. “How about Max and I finish breakfast while you and John go upstairs to talk? I could make my homemade cinnamon rolls everybody loves. It won’t take long to whip them up. I know how Max likes them. It will be a special treat.”

  “That would be lovely, Mom,” Bea said, not taking her eyes off her husband. “We have some catching up to do.”

  Max seemed interested in the cinnamon rolls, but not totally convinced. “What about school?” he asked. “If we don’t leave soon, we won’t make it on time.”

  “School isn’t our top priority right now! Will you give it a rest?” John roared, lashing out at his son. Max took a step back as if he’d been pushed by John’s rage. He wasn’t accustomed to being talked to this way.

  Lana put her arm around Max. “I’ve got him,” she said softly. “Go. Talk.”

  Annoyed, John stomped upstairs. Bea followed.

  31

  The bedroom door slammed hard in Bea’s face. John was on a tear, perhaps worse than ever before. But Bea wouldn’t be deterred. She needed to talk to her husband and come to some shared understanding. She opened the door and entered the bedroom. When she did, she saw John standing near the rose petals she had placed in a bowl on top of a dresser.

  “Did Travis give you these?” he shouted. He looked rabid, like a junkyard dog. The old John she once knew seemed a million miles away. “Have you forgotten that Travis is the reason we’re in this mess?”

  “No,” Bea said emphatically. “Why would you think they’re from him?”

  “Gee, I don’t know,” John barked. “Do I really have to spell it out for you? I’m not stupid, you know.”

  “John, he’s not behind the videos. Travis wouldn’t do something like this.”

  “Well, he’s my number one suspect,” John said. “I’m damn near certain it’s him. If it isn’t Travis appearing on video, then he’s behind it. Maybe he’s hired somebody to stand in.”

  “Stop it. The rose petals were for you… For us,” Bea explained. “I had a romantic evening planned. I spread them out on the bed. Last night…”

  John raised his eyebrows as he made the connection. “Oh,” he said. But it didn’t stop his tirade. “Well, whatever.”

  Bea closed the door behind her and locked it so they wouldn’t be disturbed. She pulled the chair out from her makeup table and sat down, careful that her body language wasn’t threatening. She didn’t want to pick a fight. John was doing enough of that for the both of them.

  “What do you want from me?” John asked.

  Bea thought it was a strange question. “What do I want from you?” Bea echoed. “I want you to be a good husband and father. To care for me and Max, and to treat us nicely. What do you think I want from you?”

  John began to pace again, agitated. “You’re never happy,” he said.

  “That’s not true,” Bea said. “I was happy yesterday. I was looking forward to our special night together.”

  “Yeah, well, I can’t control what happened,” John said, dismissing her. “There are things you don’t understand.”

  Bea took a breath. “You used those same words the other day in the hospital. What is it I don’t understand? Enlighten me.”

  “You wouldn’t understand even if I told you!” he raged, still pacing.

  “Come on, John,” Bea pleaded. “Try me. After our talk the other night where we cleared the air, I thought we were in this together. I want us to be in this together. There are reporters on our lawn, for God’s sake. It seems like we ought to be in this together.”

  John stepped towards the window and peeked around the shade.

  “Are they still out there?” Bea asked.

  “Yes.”

  Bea twirled a few strands of her silky hair has she thought about how to bridge the chasm that had developed between them. She didn’t know what to say or what to do that would bring them back together like they once were.

  “John,” she began, as calmly as she could manage. “I made you a painting yesterday. I spent all day working on it.”

  He paused and looked at her, tilting his head toward one shoulder. “That’s… It’s nice of you, Beatrice. It really is.”

  “Do you want to know what I painted?”

  “Sure,” John said, ste
pping away from the window and sitting down on the side of the bed.

  “It’s an old couple sitting beside each other on a bench, in the fall. It’s you and me. It’s the future I want for us. I want us to weather life’s storms together.”

  John’s demeanor softened. He shook his head and raised his hands out in front of him. He was at a loss for words.

  “Have I really changed that much?” Bea asked.

  “What? No, it’s got nothing to do with that.”

  Bea was quiet as she mustered the nerve to ask him the question she most wanted an answer to. “John, where were you last night? And tell me the truth. I deserve that much.”

  “I already told you,” he sniped. “I had to deal with a work thing. It… It took all night.”

  A single tear fell down Bea’s cheek. She wiped it away quickly, embarrassed. She wanted to be strong. She wanted to hold it together.

  “John,” she began again. “Is there another woman?”

  Her question was innocent enough, but it sent John into an even wilder rage.

  “Goddamnit, Beatrice!” he yelled at the top of his lungs. Max and Lana could surely hear now. “Would you get off my back? There’s no other woman! How many times do I have to tell you that before you get it through your thick skull?” John panted, leaping off the bed and heaving his body around the room as if it were a truck he was driving instead of a part of him. “Leave me the fuck alone, for Christ’s sake! You’re a dead weight around my neck that I just can’t seem to shake. Or a prison sentence I’m destined to serve. I can’t even breathe you’re so far up my ass.”

  John began batting at things around the room. He knocked down picture frames. Then he slammed his fist on a nightstand as a stack of books went flying. He pivoted quickly, succumbing to a full-blown tantrum now. He kicked the side of the bed. And in one dramatic movement, he picked up a lamp and tore it from the wall, then sent it hurtling across the room. It landed near Bea’s legs, a sharp corner hitting the side of her knee on its way down.