“What are you talking about, Clay? Who is Beelzebub?”
He spoke without thinking, without meaning to let it slip out. “She’s the person who killed your husband.”
She stopped, covering her mouth. “How could you possibly know that?”
He shook his head. He wasn’t ready to show all of his cards yet. “I just know.”
She stood up from the table. “I’m done with all of these secrets and all of the lies, Clay. Either you tell me what you know—everything you know—or I’m walking away from here. I’m walking away from you and whatever this is, and I’m going to let your sergeant figure it all out.”
He stood up too, catching her arm. “Peighton, wait.”
“Who is Beelzebub, Clay? Who is she? What does she have to do with Todd?” she demanded heatedly.
“She’s the woman who murdered my wife.”
Eighteen
FRANK, 2000
Frank woke up to his phone buzzing on the nightstand. He rolled over, lifting it up and blinking, trying to clear the sleep from his eyes. He had two missed calls and a text from Todd.
Todd: Come over quick.
He jumped up, throwing a shirt over his head and running his hands through his hair. He walked out of the apartment, not even bothering to put on shoes, and crossed the hall. He walked into the apartment across from his without knocking. “Hello? Anybody home?”
Peighton appeared from around the corner, a bright smile on her face. She was still dressed in her pajamas, her brown, wavy hair in a loose clip. “Frank’s here,” she called over her shoulder, using a small dish towel to dry the bowl in her hands. Frank followed her as she walked back into the kitchen. She reached up, placing the bowl into a cabinet before turning back to face him.
He leaned in, giving her a quick hug. “Good morning. Todd said to come over quick. Is everything okay?”
She laughed. “Oh god, you didn’t literally have to come right over. Everything’s fine.”
He groaned. “Well, tell your husband how to text like a sane person then. Let a person at least get some shoes on.” He looked down at his bare feet.
She smiled. “He’s your friend.”
Todd appeared from the bedroom, noticing his friend immediately. “Rough night, bro?” he asked, laughing at the sight of Frank. He walked into the kitchen, hopping up on the counter and grabbing a piece of bacon off the plate still sitting out. He popped it in his mouth casually, a growing smile on his face.
Frank frowned. “So, are you going to tell me what’s going on or should we start playing charades?”
Peighton walked to Todd, placing her hands on his knee. “Well…” she said, smiling at Frank with an anxious grin. She glanced at Todd, waiting.
“How do you feel about being an uncle?” Todd asked, shoving another piece of bacon in his mouth casually. It took just a moment for Frank to catch on.
“W-What? Are you serious? You’re pregnant?” Peighton nodded happily, holding her arms out for another hug. He pulled them both together in an embrace, tousling Todd’s hair. “Atta boy!” he teased. “It’s about time.” Todd had confided in him over a year ago that they had begun trying. Frank’s heart swelled with happiness at the news. “This is so awesome.”
“Yeah, we’re very excited,” Peighton said. “But don’t tell anyone yet, okay? It’s still really early and we don’t want to get our hopes up too soon. Our doctor says its best to wait until the second trimester to make an announcement.”
“What? Are you kidding? It’s going to be great. His momma’s great looks and Wonder Bread’s hair?” He cast a playful look at Todd, who touched his hair self-consciously before punching his arm. “This kid’s one lucky son of a bitch.”
TWO MONTHS LATER
Frank heard the knocking on the door and looked at his watch. It was nearly midnight. He walked to the door and swung it open. Todd stood in front of him, his eyes red. He opened his mouth to speak, but no words came out.
“What’s wrong?” Frank asked, though he worried he already knew. Todd shook his head, tears welling up in his eyes. He fell onto Frank’s shoulders, shaking inconsolably. In between his sobs, in barely a whisper, Frank heard the words he was dreading. “The…baby…”
Frank pulled his friend in the room, shutting the door. He stood there, arms wrapped around Todd, feeling tears in his own eyes. He didn’t know what had happened, and it didn’t matter. In that moment, he knew he was the only one holding Todd up. He patted the back of his neck. “It’s okay, man. It’s going to be okay,” he assured him, though he truly had no idea if that were true.
After a while, Todd pulled away. “I don’t know what to do, man. I don’t know what to tell her. I don’t know how to make this okay.”
Frank shook his head. “You can’t. You just have to be there for her. Where is she?”
“In bed,” he said softly, “I can’t face her. I need to make this better for her, but I can’t stop crying. It only makes it worse for her to see me like this. I just…it wasn’t supposed to be this way.” He wiped his eyes, taking a deep breath.
Frank grabbed hold of his shoulders. “Todd, look at me. Look.” He shook him. Finally, Todd’s eyes drifted over to meet his. “All she needs right now is for you to be there for her. Just be there.”
“I’m just making it worse.”
“No,” he said firmly. “No. You aren’t. You can’t. She needs you right now, Wonder. She needs you to be there for her. No one else can do that like you can. You’re good at this. You’re good with her, okay?”
Todd nodded his head, though he didn’t speak. Frank reached up, pulling him in for a hug once more. “I’m sorry, man.” When they pulled apart this time, Todd turned to the door.
“What do I say to her?”
“Tell her that you love her. That’s all she needs to hear right now.”
“Don’t tell her I was here,” he said softly. “Don’t tell her you know just yet. I don’t want her to know I’m this upset. The doctor told me to be strong for her.”
“Screw the doctor, man. You don’t have to pretend. Peighton’s one of the best girls I know. The best girl you’ve ever been with. Be real with her. Let her know how you feel and that she’s not alone.”
Todd laughed through his tears. “How much do I owe ya, doc?”
Frank grabbed hold of the door, pulling it open. He placed his hand on his friend’s shoulder. “I’ll put it on your tab.”
Nineteen
PEIGHTON
“I don’t understand. Your wife was murdered?”
“Yes,” Clay said. “It was years ago, but I never stopped looking for her killer.”
“Why wouldn’t you mention that?”
“How could I? ‘Hi, I’m Clay Nealson. Your husband may have been killed by the same woman who killed my wife. No idea why. No idea how. No idea who she is’? That’s not exactly the best introduction.”
“You used me.”
“What?”
She took a step back. “How could you possibly know their deaths were related?”
“It’s a long story, Peighton, and this really isn’t the place.”
“I need to know the truth.”
“Let’s go somewhere else then. Somewhere private,” he said, standing up and pulling the keys out of his side pocket.
“How do I know I can trust you? You’ve been lying to me this whole time.”
“Because if I wanted to hurt you, I’ve had plenty of opportunities. This isn’t about you, Peighton. It never was.”
Feeling like she’d been slapped, she followed him, more out of curiosity than anything. They climbed into his truck, and he started it up. She took a deep breath, his truck smelled of copper cologne. They rode in silence, his jaw firm. She tried to watch him out of the corner of her eye, trying to decide whether she should trust him or trust her own instincts and report him. Truth be told, she couldn’t believe she’d even climbed in the car with him. Even more, she couldn’t believe she’d climbed into
bed with him. She rubbed her temple, feeling a headache coming on.
When they pulled into his driveway, she gasped. “You live on my side of town?”
“Yeah, so?” He shut the truck off, shrugging his shoulders.
“You never mentioned that.”
“It didn’t come up,” he said, opening his door.
“What else are you hiding from me, Clay?”
“I wasn’t hiding it. There was no reason to tell you. It didn’t matter.” He shut the truck’s door, walking around to her side. She climbed out, following him into his home. He lived in a small brick house with green shutters. She’d seen the house dozens of times, as he resided merely three streets away from her.
He opened the front door for her, letting her walk past. She stared around the large living room. It was quaint, two oversized chairs on either side of the room and a couch in between. He had a computer desk on one wall and a flat screen TV on the other. She noticed there were a few pictures of him and a woman, she assumed his wife. She walked toward them.
“Make yourself comfortable,” he told her. “I’ll be right back.”
“Where are you going?” she demanded suspiciously.
He didn’t answer, disappearing into a room off the kitchen. She turned, walking to the pictures on the walls. She had wondered if his wife would look familiar to her, but staring at the pictures, she was sure she hadn’t known her. She stared at the happy Clay, looking so different than the man she knew today. He had his arms wrapped around the woman, standing on a snow-covered mountain. They had skis in their hands, heavy jackets warming them. In another picture, her long brown hair blew into his face on what must have been a windy day at the beach. They were staring at each other, a beach towel shared between them.
Behind her, she heard him clear his throat. She turned around. “She was beautiful.”
“Yeah,” he said simply, “she was.”
“What was her name?”
He frowned. “Sarah.”
“I’m sorry for your loss.”
“I’m sorry for yours too.” He sat down on the couch, laying a stack of folders down. “Do you want something to drink?”
“Do I need something to drink?” she asked honestly.
“Probably,” he answered, though he made no move to get her one. Instead, she sat down beside him, staring at the papers in his hands ominously.
“Okay, what are we looking at?”
“Basically, everything I know about Beelzebub.” He opened the folder on top, holding up a single sheet of paper. “Starting with this. When my wife passed, I used some of my contacts to look up Beelzebub. I wanted to find her location through servers, but I couldn’t…she had covered her tracks well. What I did find, however, was a few other email addresses she’s been in contact with. One of those was your husband.” He laid the paper down, showing her a list with around fifteen other names on them. Todd’s name was highlighted.
“Wait, I’m sorry, how did you even know about Beelzebub? How do you know she’s the one who killed your wife?”
He sighed, rubbing his forehead. “That’s a long story.”
“Then start telling it,” she snapped.
“I’m going to,” he retorted. “What you need to understand first is that the beginning of this story is going to make me look bad. I never meant to do anything to hurt my wife. Never. But I did. And I’m probably the reason she’s dead. I have to live with that every single day. And you’re the first and only person I’ve ever told this story to, so please just hear me out before you judge me.”
“You had an affair?” she said, understanding what he was telling her.
“No! Well, yes. I mean, sort of. I never meant to,” he said firmly, his eyes locked on hers. “When I first met Beelzebub, I thought she was a guy. I met her on a fantasy football website and we started chatting. It was all about football at first, cars, that sort of thing. But then she started telling me more about her. When she started hitting on me, and I realized she was a girl, I tried to break it off.”
“What do you mean?”
“I told her I was married, that I wasn’t interested in pursuing a relationship with her in that way. We had been talking for weeks and at first, I guess she was hurt because she just kept trying to talk to me. Then, one day, I didn’t hear from her. A few more days went by and I hadn’t heard from her. I just assumed she’d finally gotten the hint and moved on.”
“But I don’t understand. How does that prove that she had anything to do with your wife’s death?”
“Because that wasn’t the last time I heard from her,” he said. “The day my wife died, I got one last email from Beelzebub. All it said was ‘I’m sorry.’”
Peighton covered her mouth. “So, what did the cops say?”
“Nothing,” he said. “I never told anyone about her.”
“What? Why? They could’ve helped you catch her!” she shrieked.
“No,” he said firmly. “No, they couldn’t have. I’m the police, Peighton. They couldn’t have done anything I didn’t do. I did everything I could, and some things I shouldn’t have, to find out who Beelzebub is. I couldn’t find anything. For years, I’ve been researching and searching for her. I eventually had to accept that I wouldn’t find her. And then, your husband passed away. And I was one of the officers on scene. So, I took your husband’s laptop and I lied to you about an investigation that wasn’t happening. Yes. But I did it because it was the first chance I’d had in a year to find out more about my wife’s death and the person behind it. I couldn’t pass that up.”
“I understand,” she said, “I really do. That doesn’t make it any easier to hear, but I get it.”
“The truth is, I couldn’t admit what I’d done. It was embarrassing and awful and I’m ashamed to admit it even now. But if I could make up for it by catching her killer, I would be satisfied.”
“Okay, so what did you find out? With Todd’s computer?”
“Not a whole lot,” he said, sighing. “I found over a year’s worth of emails.” He looked at her, pausing for a second to gauge her reaction before continuing. “Not anything consistent, just a few a week, then a few a month. Sometimes daily. I think they must have been talking another way but when I looked at Todd’s phone records, there are so many calls daily…without knowing Beelzebub’s phone number, or at least location, it’s been hard to narrow it down so far.”
She bit her lip. “I can’t believe I never knew.”
He reached up, patting her shoulder. “You can’t blame yourself. It’s not your fault.”
She pulled back. “So, what were you looking for in Todd’s office?”
He shook his head. “I never meant to hurt you, Peighton.”
“What were you looking for?” she asked again, irritation in her voice.
“I wasn’t looking for anything in particular. Just something to help me get more information about what went on between him and Beelzebub: maybe a phone we didn’t know about, a picture, more messages, something.”
“But you didn’t find anything?”
“No, not before you woke up.”
She stopped talking for a moment, wishing she’d gotten that drink after all. “So, you were just trying to distract me when you kissed me?” she asked finally, not able to look him in the eye.
He was silent for a moment, she could hear his breathing. Finally, he said, “I didn’t mean to hurt you, but I couldn’t tell you the truth about why I was there.”
“Oh.” She forced the word out of her mouth, though she felt like all her air was gone. “Right.”
He placed a hand on her knee. “I don’t regret what we did, Peighton. In another time, in another life…I would be chasing you down. That night wouldn’t have been enough for me. Sitting here…so close to you that I can smell you and not being able to touch you…that wouldn’t be enough for me.” He pulled her chin up so that he could look her in the eye. “But in this life, this time, it has to be enough. I can’t chase you.”
“No,” he said softly. “No, you didn’t.” Their eyes were locked together and neither spoke for what felt like an eternity. Everything seemed to stand still, the air around them growing thick, and being close to him was all she could think of. Finally, he blinked, looking away. “But you should. You should run away from me, Peighton.”
“Why?”
“Because we aren’t supposed to do this. You’re grieving and you’re vulnerable, and I took advantage of that. And, even more than that, our spouses’ deaths are linked. Everything about us is just messy.”
Before Peighton could answer, her phone began to ring in her pocket. She pulled it out, staring at the screen. “Hold on, it’s Frank.” She stood up, walking away from the couch. “Hello?”
“Peighton, is Kyle with you?”
“What do you mean is Kyle with me? Is he missing?”
He groaned. “When I woke up this morning he was gone. I thought maybe he’d gone out with his friends or something, but he isn’t answering my calls. I can’t get ahold of him.”
“How long has he been gone?” she asked, panic filling her. Clay was suddenly beside her.
“I don’t know. He was here last night. I woke up a few hours ago and he’s not here.”
“Why are you just now calling me?”
“I didn’t want to worry you for no reason. I figured he’d show up eventually, but it’s been a while. He should’ve been back by now. Or at least answered my calls.”
She was pacing the living room floor, nervously rubbing her hair. “Okay, I’m coming there right now.”
“Okay,” he said. “I’m sure it’s going to be fine, Peighton. Don’t panic yet.”
Too late. She hung up the phone quickly, rushing toward the door.
The Beginning After Page 8