Death by the River (A St. Benedict Novel Book 1)

by Alexandrea Weis

  Beau tossed the rag aside and went to the black duffel bag on his bed. His “Leslie bag” would be waiting in his cell for his night of fun with her at the river. He checked the nylon rope, handcuffs, duct tape, rags, hunting knife, and lighter fluid he had put in there. He zipped up the bag, proud of the accomplishment—his new beginning.

  He needed to check his cell at The Abbey to make sure everything was in order for when the big night arrived. He didn’t want anything to backfire. His father had harped for years that preparation was the key to success.

  You were so right, Dad.

  Though he was still grounded, he planned to go to the river tonight. He could sneak out. He’d done it dozens of times before. Beau couldn’t join his friends and party—his father might get wind of it—but he could watch from the sidelines. It was a way to weed out who was loyal to him, and who was taking advantage of his absence. Then he would make the disloyal pay.

  He’d even decided on an outfit, something to make sure no one would know it was him. A solid black ski mask, black jeans, and black jacket sat on the bed next to his black duffel bag.

  A knock on his door startled him.

  He shoved the jacket, jeans, mask, and bag under his bed.

  “Come in.”

  Elizabeth glided inside, searching his bare walls. “What are you doing?”

  “Just making some changes.”

  No longer in her yellow robe, she wore slacks and a floral blouse. She didn’t have her usual drink in her hand, and she had even done her hair and put on makeup. Too much makeup as far as he was concerned.

  “Why are you dressed like that?”

  Elizabeth skimmed her hand over her shirt. “What’s wrong with my outfit?”

  He wondered what his hands would feel like around her neck.

  “Nothing’s wrong.” Beau played it cool. How the bitch dressed wasn’t his problem. “I’m just used to seeing you in your robe.”

  Elizabeth held her head up, reminding him of the ice queen he’d known all his life. The woman had as much emotion as a glacier.

  She folded her hands and leveled her gray eyes on her son. “The robe is gone. I’m making an effort to get better. I want you to do the same. Maybe this is something we can do together.”

  Ah, he got it now. His asshole father had spoken to her about the game, and this was her solution. What was next? Family therapy weekends at Disney World? He could just see Gage Devereaux in a Mickey Mouse hat.

  “Since when do we do anything together?”

  Elizabeth wrinkled her brow and dipped her lips into an angry scowl. “Since your father asked me to make an effort. We’ve been talking lately. We want to make things better for you. I know our strained relationship hasn’t helped your problem, so we’re going to make an effort to be around for you more. I want to try this before we have to go back to seeing therapists and psychiatrists. I don’t want that for you.”

  He folded his arms, seeing red. His mother had attempted to dry out dozens of times in the past. His father had made just as many futile attempts to spend more time at home with his family. They had both proven themselves liars.

  “It’s a little late for family time, Mom.”

  Elizabeth stepped into his room and her features softened. “I blame myself for last night. Maybe if I had been there more, if both of us had been around more for you, there wouldn’t be so much hostility.”

  “Hostility?” Beau wished he had a knife in his hand to send the woman screaming from his room. “Is that what you think my problem is?”

  “Oh, I know exactly what your problem is.” Her contentious voice rang in his ears. “But I’m not going to give up on you. I’m not afraid anymore.”

  He crept closer, a sly smile on his lips. “You should be.”

  One sudden move and she would run for the door like a terrified puppy.

  “It’s not too late for this family.” She held up her folded hands, begging. “If we try, I know we can fix some of the wrongs from the past. But you have to be willing to work with us. Will you do that? Will you agree to at least listen to what we propose? If not, your father will take other action.”

  Dammit!

  If he didn’t support his mother’s suggestions, then his father would insist on therapy or worse, drugs. He’d been down that road before and swore he would never take another pill. The fog they created stifled his mind. It seemed Gage’s concern for his family’s safety had finally outweighed his need to protect the Devereaux name from dishonor. He had to play along so he could hold on to whatever freedom he had left. He had plans to finalize.

  “All right.” He made his tone somber to convince her he meant what he said. “I’ll work with you and Dad. I’ll agree to whatever punishments you see fit. I’m sorry about what happened last night at the game. I’m still not sure how it happened, but I’m willing to take responsibility.”

  Her slight smile was becoming. He couldn’t remember the last time he saw his mother smile. Beau stood, maintaining the distance between them. The last thing he wanted to smell was her heavy floral perfume. It would only make him ache for Leslie’s intoxicating aroma more.

  She folded her arms. “I have to admit I’m surprised to hear you speaking this way. It isn’t you.”

  “Me?” He held in his snicker. “You don’t know me.”

  “I know you, Beau. I know every thought going on in your head. I’ve seen how you are, your coldness, your loathing. Don’t think you can fool me.”

  She turned on her low heels and marched out of his room. The confidence in her step was a charade. Had to be. Elizabeth Devereaux spent her years at Devereaux Plantation terrified of two things: her husband and her son. One night of sobriety wasn’t about to change anything.

  After she shut his bedroom door, he paced the floor, feeling the walls closing in. His parents would restrict his activity like before, but he wasn’t a kid anymore and his needs had matured.

  Then there was his prize. He had plans for taking her, taming her, and teaching her the lessons she deserved.

  He wanted to know where she was. Being with Dawn had given him a sense of access to Leslie, but without her sister hanging around, he had lost touch.

  He picked up his phone from his night table, toying with the idea of calling Dawn. What should he say? Should he try and win her back to keep tabs on Leslie?

  “Screw it.”

  He dialed her number and paced some more.

  On the third ring, she answered.

  “What do you want, Beau?”

  It didn’t sound like Dawn. She was edgier and colder. “Leslie?”

  “Surprise!”

  Her throaty tone slithered through his soul. He pictured the same laugh echoing in the cells. He would make her laugh like that right before he strangled the life out of her.

  Strained by his desire to punish her, his murderous voice sounded foreign. “Put Dawn on.”

  “You’re the last person she wants to talk to right now.”

  Her defiant lilt made him ache to punch something.

  “I promise you will suffer one day.”

  “Like you’ve made others suffer?” Her eerie whisper slashed at his well-honed discipline. “Stay away from my sister and me, or I’ll kill you, Beau Devereaux. I swear to God, I’ll tear you to pieces.” Leslie then hung up the phone.

  He clenched his phone, hyperventilating. Her smile, her smell, her laugh circled in his head squeezing out every single thought like a vise. It was as if shards of glass surfaced in his stomach, chewing their way out. He could not let her win, ever.

  After dropping the phone on the night table, he held his hands together and squeezed with all his might. Imagining all the power and pleasure he would gain from her end.

  When his fury passed, he calmly sat on his bed, smiling.

  When I’m done, I’ll burn her and leave the rest for the wild dogs. No one will ever find any trace of Leslie Moore.

  * * *

  The skies outside Beau’s bedroom
window were black. Not even the stars poked through the veil of ominous clouds. He lay on his bed, his lights out to let his parents think he was asleep. He listened throughout the night for the closing of bedroom doors. First his mother’s door, and then a short time later, his father’s.

  It was almost midnight. Everyone at the river would be drunk. It was time to make his move.

  In his black jeans and a black jacket, he felt like the special ops guys. He had read a lot about their missions online, daydreaming about joining their ranks, but he had garnered something else from the articles—how to move around in the dark and not be seen.

  He added a pair of black combat boots and threw them, and his ski mask, into his duffel bag. The clothes added to his sense of power. He was one step closer to taking his prize.

  Gently closing his door, he hiked the bag over his shoulder and eased along the hallway, careful to avoid the spots where the floor groaned.

  Once he was safely down the staircase to the main hall, he picked up his pace. He wiped the beads of sweat from his brow as he neared the mudroom. He was almost home free.

  But the blinking red light on the alarm pad brought him to a grinding halt.

  His father had set it—something he never did.

  Son of a bitch!

  He had to get out of the house. He couldn’t put his plans in order for Leslie unless he went to the river and checked the cells.

  Think. What’s the code?

  He remembered the five-digit code his father had given him a while back. The combination of his mother’s and father’s birthday. He just hoped his old man had never changed it. Holding his breath, he punched in the code and waited for the blare of the alarm, wondering what he would say if he got caught.

  The alarm light switched from red to green without making a peep.

  With a sigh of relief, Beau exited the house and slipped into the garage.

  He inspected the collection of cars. His father’s BMW, his BMW, his mother’s Mercedes, and the red McLaren 570GT his father had bought but never driven. Such a waste.

  The one car not parked in the garage was a black 4X4 Jeep used for hunting. They always left it outside the garage to leave room for the other cars. No one would notice if it had been moved, especially his father.

  At the Jeep, he put on his combat boots while remembering his father always hid the keys.

  After a quick glance up at the second-floor windows, he went through the Jeep, patting underneath the tire wells and checking the rack on top. When his hand glided over the spare tire rack in back, he found them, tucked into a small metal shelf.

  Gripping the keys, he grinned.

  You can’t outsmart me.

  * * *

  The parking lot above the beach contained a multitude of cars, crammed into every available spot. It surprised him how many people were in attendance—considering he wasn’t there.

  He left his Jeep at the entrance to the lot, next to a patch of trees. He grabbed his black bag, put on his ski mask, and ducked into the woods.

  He took up position behind a thick oak and caught sight of Mitch on a picnic bench, nursing a beer and surrounded by a couple of girls. He yearned to join him but couldn’t afford to be discovered. Disappointed, Beau was about to head to the cells when he noticed a lone girl heading along the path leading to The Abbey.

  Unable to resist, he kept to the trees and followed her along the path.

  She had on a big black coat, a half-full bottle of vodka in one hand and a cigarette in the other.

  “Ellen.” Josh stumbled up to her, appearing drunk. “Where did you go?”

  “You said let’s take a walk to The Abbey.”

  “I wanted you to wait for me.” Josh clasped her hand and led her through the old iron gate.

  Intrigued, he followed them, staying far back on the path. Instead of taking a left and heading for The Abbey, Josh turned right at the fountain and crossed the grassy field to the cells.

  That little prick.

  The cells were his domain. No one came here and he made sure to tell all the boys to stay out, claiming it was too dangerous. The Abbey was their make-out spot, not his cells. But here was his best friend, breaking the rules.

  Josh glanced back over his shoulder as he ushered the girl through the break in the wall. Beau seethed when they disappeared into the opening.

  He hurried the last few yards to the entrance and listened before slipping inside.

  The flare of a match came from his cell.

  “My buddy has quite a setup. He doesn’t know I know about his place, so shh.” Josh’s slurred words echoed through the corridor.

  Shuffling and moaning followed. The harsh creak of the cot being moved on the stone floor came next.

  He debated what to do. Should he rush the room, knock the girl to the side, and let into Josh with his fists? This was his place!

  Self-control in all things.

  Yeah, to hell with that. His so-called friend had crashed his territory. He had to act.

  Beau adjusted his ski mask, making sure his face remained hidden, and closed in on his room. The distinct sound of panting carried down the narrow passageway.

  From the doorway, the yellow light of a few lit candles flickered. Josh was on his cot with a girl’s long legs spread underneath him.

  He put his duffel bag down and quietly snuck into the room.

  Beau waited, poised right over the cot, observing the sickening display. When the girl’s eyes opened, she parted her lips to scream, but he was too quick. He grabbed Josh by the collar and threw him against the wall.

  The girl sat up shrieking as Beau went after Josh. He held Josh by the throat, pushing him up the cracked wall, his jeans gathered around his ankles. Beau relished the fear in his friend’s eyes.

  Josh clawed at his ski mask, his eyes bulged while he fought to get any air.

  Not as good as Andrea, but definitely uplifting.

  The girl ran out of the room.

  He let Josh fall to the floor, deciding he’d had enough. This was supposed to be a warning.

  “What do you want, man?” Josh coughed as he clung to the wall, fighting to get to his feet. “Beau, is that you? What is wrong with you?”

  He jabbed his finger in Josh’s chest, not bothering to disguise his voice.

  “Come back and I’ll kill you.”

  Beau slammed his fist into the wall. Pieces of plaster broke off, tumbling to the ground.

  “You’re crazy!” Josh scrambled out of the room.

  Beau turned to his cell; the anger in his veins swelled.

  The bastard has defiled my special place.

  He let go and kicked the cot out of the way, smashed the vodka bottle they had left behind against the wall, and shoved one of the candles to the floor. The blanket he ripped to shreds. He even pulled apart the pillow, filling the room with chunks of cheap foam stuffing.

  Worn out and breathing hard, he crashed to the floor. The world he’d thought was coming together for him, was, in actuality, falling apart. There was only one thing that could appease him and make up for all he had endured—Leslie Moore.

  Something red peeked out from the chunks of stuffing. He reached under the cot. It was Andrea’s red scarf. He rubbed the silky material against his cheek. He’d forgotten he left it there.

  You’re lucky Josh never found it.

  He dug his nails into his palms, punishing himself for his slip up. Maybe he wasn’t ready to take her just yet. He had to get better organized.

  The debris roused him. He’d have to come back, clean up and replace what Josh had sullied.

  His internal clock urged him to return. He’d been gone long enough.

  He tucked Andrea’s scarf in his jacket and blew out the rest of the candles. In the corridor, he groped in the dark and found his bag.

  Under the light of the burgeoning moon, Beau ran across the field. Creeped out as he peered into the pitch-black trees surrounding him. The incident with the ghostly figure had n
ever left him.

  At the fountain, he turned and rushed toward the gate.

  When he ducked into the brush, he used the light from the bonfire to guide himself around the beach, frequently checking behind him to make sure he didn’t get caught.

  He got back to his Jeep without a problem. All that was left was to sneak back into his house, and crawl into bed.

  Piece of cake.

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  He maneuvered his car around the packs of students chatting and hanging out. The sun was up, birds chirped in the trees, and everyone seemed to be in a good mood considering it was Monday. Beau didn’t share their sentiments.

  After parking in his usual spot, he climbed from his car. The first few stares he got didn’t bother him. He expected to get a lot of crap for what had happened at the game.

  But as he crossed the lot, several students scurried out of his way.

  “Dude, ignore them.” Mitch approached, giving him a fist bump. “They’re just freaking out about the news.”

  He swung his book bag over his shoulder. “What news?”

  “You didn’t hear about the body the cops found on a riverbank this morning? They said it was a naked woman. They haven’t identified her yet.”

  The sting of apprehension rippled across his skin. How had they found her so quickly?

  “Where did they find her?”

  “That’s the thing. She wasn’t more than two miles from where we party. Everyone is scared about going to the river for Halloween. They think there’s a killer on the loose.”

  “There is no killer. You know how people like to party on the river. She was probably some drunk.” Wanting to change the subject, Beau surveyed the parking lot. “Where’s Josh?”

  He couldn’t wait to put the backstabbing asshole’s nose to the fire and make his life hell.

  Mitch eyed two freshman girls in short skirts. “He stayed home sick. He hasn’t been right since Saturday night. After he hooked up with some girl, he came back to the bonfires all pale and sweaty. Just hope I don’t get it.”

  “I’m sure he’ll be fine by the game Friday night.” Beau wondered how much Mitch knew. “You have fun at the river Saturday night?”