Peighton didn’t answer. The logistics hadn’t occurred to her: why he’d been there, what would make him do something so horrible. For Sarah, she believed it could have been jealousy over Clay if Drew had fallen for him. She was living proof of how easy that was to do. But, he’d loved Todd. He’d even said so in the letter. Then again, Peighton had seen his evil side when he’d threatened to go public with the relationship. He was capable of destroying a person.
“Maybe he wanted Todd back and he refused. He would’ve wanted to punish him, like before,” Frank said. “Todd would’ve let him in if he’d come by. He trusted Drew.”
“What about the cameras?” Peighton asked, the idea popping into her mind. “Could we check them? See if he came by that day?”
“They only record when the alarm is sounded,” Frank told her quickly. “I’d already thought of that.”
Hopelessness overcame Peighton. She pictured her sweet husband opening the door for a man he’d believed to be a friend, a man he’d once loved, only to have his life ended so senselessly. It broke Peighton’s heart to think of her husband’s kind soul, trusting even to his downfall. She felt tears filling her eyelids and brushed them away quickly.
Isabel, noticing Peighton’s sorrow, patted her arm. “There, there, dear. You loved him with all you had. That’s all he could’ve asked for,” she soothed.
It wasn’t true though, Peighton thought. Sure, she’d loved Todd just as much as any wife could love her husband. Their marriage had been full of happiness, there was no doubt, but the truth was that he deserved more. He deserved a long and healthy life, a marriage with someone he could love in every way, and to watch his son grow up. He could’ve asked for more—he should have.
Peighton touched Izzy’s hand, unable to express all that she was thinking. “Thank you.” Frank and Clay stepped toward her, comforting her too.
“We’re here for you,” Frank said.
“I’m here too, Mom,” Kyle said, walking into the room.
“Kyle,” she scolded, “you weren’t supposed to be listening.”
“Did you honestly think I wouldn’t be?” he asked. Without waiting for a response, he went on. “You guys have to stop treating me like a baby. I’m old enough to handle the truth.”
Peighton pressed her lips together. “You shouldn’t have to, though, Kyle. Don’t you see that? I just want you to be a kid.”
“I don’t want you to have to deal with all this alone. It’s just like when Dad would go on business trips and ask me to protect you. He’d say I was the man of the house until he came back. Well, he’s not coming back, Mom, not this time. So, let me be the man he wanted me to be. It’s time.”
Peighton didn’t say anything. She couldn’t. She stood and watched as her baby, the seven-pound, six-ounce infant that she’d brought into this house less than sixteen years ago became a man right before her eyes.
And in that moment, though she knew it was impossible, she couldn’t help but think he looked just like his father.
Forty-Two
PEIGHTON
It was almost a month before they found Drew’s body. Peighton watched the short segment the news had on it. It had already been ruled a suicide before she heard much, though the reporter mentioned nothing about the note.
Two weeks after they’d discovered the truth about Todd’s death, Frank had left to start his new job in New Orleans. Two months after that, Peighton had asked Clay to move in with her and Kyle.
Today, she was somewhat regretting that decision as she stared around at the many, many boxes of his she would now have to find room for. She sat on a stack of boxes, sighing to herself. It was just after nine in the morning and she was already exhausted. Clay walked into the room, grinning at her.
“Are you ready to kick me out yet?” he asked.
“Just about,” she joked, pulling a picture of Sarah out of a box and setting it on the vanity next to a photo of Todd. He walked up behind her, wrapping his warm arms around her waist and kissing her ear.
“I can’t wait to have you all to myself,” he told her.
“Get a room,” Kyle’s voice rang out behind them. Peighton turned around, her face red.
“Are you ready?” she asked. He held a duffel bag in his hands, his hair still wet from the shower.
“Yep, let’s go.”
“Are you sure you’re okay with Clay taking you to the airport? I don’t mind. Or we could drive you if you’d rather do that.”
“No, Mom, honestly it’s cool. I know you have a deadline to meet for work. Besides, I like flying. And, as long as Clay leaves the radio alone on the way to the airport, we’ll be fine,” he joked. “None of that old country crap.”
“Hey,” Clay scoffed, “that ‘old country crap’ is classic. I’m going to have to teach you about good music, kid.”
“In your dreams,” Kyle teased, throwing his bag over his shoulder.
“You’ll be good for Frank, right?” Peighton asked him. “Don’t go anywhere without him. New Orleans is different than home.”
“I’ll be fine, Mom. It’s just two days,” he promised, kissing her cheeks.
“We’ll be there to pick you up Sunday. You call me if you need me, though.”
“Okay,” he agreed. “I’ll see you on Sunday. Now, let’s go.” He turned to leave, calling a quick “I love you” over his shoulder.
“I love you too,” she called after him. “I love you,” she told Clay, kissing him softly. “Be careful.”
An hour after the boys had left, Peighton was elbow-deep into the boxes Clay had brought and she’d actually made a dent in the load. She picked up a small box, spying a spot for it on the top of the closet racks, and stood on her toes trying to reach it. She lost her balance suddenly, dropping the box and ducking out of the way. It scraped her back on the way down, papers going everywhere. She bent down to pick them up, spying something that caught her eye.
She picked up the paper, staring at the words. It was a conversation between Todd and Beelzebub.
MrSenator1: Late night?
Beelzebub9677: Always. What are you
doing up?
MrSenator1: Thinking of you.
Beelzebub9677: Don’t tease me. I’ll be
there in a second.
MrSenator1: Peighton’s home.
Beelzebub9677: I thought Kyle had
practice.
MrSenator1: Its eleven at night,
moron.
Beelzebub9677: They don’t practice
that late?
MrSenator1: You wish.
Beelzebub9677: Yeah I do.
MrSenator1: Why are you still using
this screenname? I thought your job
was done.
Beelzebub9677: I’m being mysterious.
U like?
MrSenator1: I like you.
Beelzebub9677: I love you.
MrSenator1: I love you too.
Beelzebub9677: I’m gonna go to bed.
I’ll be over bright and early.
Peighton’s heading to work at seven,
right?
MrSenator1: Yep. See you in the
morning beezle.
Beelzebub9677: Good night Wonder.
Peighton dropped the paper instantly, chills running down her spine. Her blood ran ice cold and her heart plummeted. Wonder.
Forty-Three
FRANK, 2016
Frank sat across from Todd at the restaurant, staring down into the stack of papers he’d been working on.
“How would you catch your husband having an affair?” he asked.
Todd coughed, inhaling a bit of his wine. “Is that a trick question?”
“No, I’m serious.”
“I don’t have a husband,” he said, rubbing his foot across Frank’s calf softly. Frank looked around nervously.
“I need to catch a cheating husband. His phone records are clean, computer is clean, I’ve had him followed and can’t catch him doing anything. What am
I missing?”
“Maybe he isn’t cheating,” Todd told him.
“No, the wife seems certain.”
“She could be wrong.”
“Okay, you’re not helping,” Frank said heatedly. He looked up, laughing as Todd drank wine from a straw. “Why do you do that?”
“It tastes better,” he insisted. “You should try it.”
“No thanks.” He laughed. “I’m not four.”
“Well, if I’m four, you’ve got a serious felony on your hands, bub. Intoxicating minors and all.”
Frank rolled his eyes at his goofball of a date, looking back down into his paperwork. “You are absolutely no help. We should go home.”
“Oh, yeah?” Todd laughed, raising his eyebrows.
“Not for anything fun. That wine is just starting to make you batty, Mr. Senator. We can’t have that.”
Todd sat up straight, sobering a bit. “Okay, you’re right.”
They paid their tab and headed to the car, Todd staring at his phone as it went off.
“Who’s that?” Frank asked.
“Peighton texted me. She wants to know what we want Isabel to cook for supper.”
“Up to you,” Frank said, climbing into the car and beginning to drive. “I don’t know if I’ll stay tonight or not. This case is killing me.”
“I’m telling you, there’s nothing to find,” Todd insisted.
“There’s always something to find.”
“Well, then, if you’re so sure, why don’t you prove it?”
“What do you mean?” Frank asked, turning around a sharp curve.
“I mean, if you’re so convinced he’ll give in to temptation, then tempt him.”
“He’s not gay,” Frank argued.
“So, become a girl.”
“I think that takes a little while,” Frank joked.
“You can be anyone you want on a little thing called the internet,” Todd said simply, leaning his seat back. “Oh, I have a headache.”
Frank was intrigued. “Temptation, huh? You really think that could work?”
Todd laughed. “It worked on me, didn’t it?”
Forty-Four
PEIGHTON
“Pick up, pick up, pick up,” Peighton screamed into the phone, driving twenty miles per hour over the speed limit on her way to the airport. Her heart pounded as she pieced every bit of the story together.
Beelzebub. Beasley. Todd had always called Frank ‘Beezle.’ The 9677 was a play on Frank’s birthday: July 7th, 1969. She cursed herself, slamming her hand into the steering wheel. How could she have been so stupid? All the late nights and business trips together, the fact that she’d never, not even once, seen Frank with a woman. Frank was always a weird part of their marriage, but to be honest she’d always thought it was her that he wanted.
“Hello?” Clay answered finally.
“Where are you? Has Kyle gotten on the plane yet?”
“Yeah, I’m leaving the airport now. What’s wrong?”
“Dammit!” she screamed, her insides twisting in turmoil. “You have to stop the plane!”
“I can’t stop the plane, Peighton. It’s already gone. What’s happening?”
“It’s Frank. You were right. It’s Frank. Beelzebub is Frank. Frank and Todd were together all along. Lovers. He called him ‘Wonder’ in the messages. It was Todd’s nickname. Frank killed Todd. And Sarah. And Drew.” She panted, forcing the words out.
Seeming to make sense of all that she was saying, he spoke with urgency. “Peighton, are you sure?”
“Yes. I’m sure.”
“Where are you?”
“I’m almost to the airport.”
“Get here. We’re going to beat the plane.”
“Beat the plane?”
“I’m calling for backup. He can’t get ahold of Kyle.”
The line went dead as Peighton pulled into the airport. She drove aimlessly, parking in a place that wasn’t a parking spot as soon as she saw Clay. She leapt from the car, rushing toward him and collapsing in her arms. “We have…to…stop him…he’s going…to hurt…Kyle.”
He grasped her shoulders. “Calm down. Come on, I have a cruiser waiting for us. My department has contacted the New Orleans police. They’ll be waiting for Kyle at the airport. Frank won’t get his hands on him.”
She nodded, though what he was saying only brought her a tiny bit of relief. He ushered her into the police car that waited for them, another officer in the driver’s seat.
“Step on it,” Clay directed, and the car lurched forward, the sirens going. She leaned over, pressing her forehead onto the window as if she could get to him faster that way.
“Should we try to call Kyle?”
“We don’t want to scare him. He’ll have his phone turned off anyway. Let’s just get there first.”
“Are you sure we’ll beat him? What if we don’t make it?”
“We’re going to make it, Peighton. I promise you we’ll make it.”
They drove for hours, the two huddled together in the backseat as they flew down the interstate, passing cars at lightning speed. No matter how much Clay assured her, Peighton couldn’t calm the unease that sat in her core. If Frank got ahold of her son, the way he’d gotten ahold of Todd, she might never see him again. She wanted so badly to call Frank, to make him assure her that she had it all wrong, but Clay told her not to. It would only give him the heads up that they were coming for him.
When they finally arrived in Louisiana, and then in New Orleans, a small bit of hope washed over her. Kyle’s flight hadn’t landed yet, they’d been tracking it online. The officer pulled into the airport, slowing down at the entrance. They climbed out of the car, Peighton’s limbs feeling numb and unused.
“Thanks, Duncan,” Clay thanked the officer. “I owe you one.”
The officer nodded. “Anytime. I hope your boy’s okay,” he told Clay, and Peighton couldn’t help but realize she liked the way that sounded. Her boy. Not Frank’s. Hers.
Clay shut the door and they walked into the airport. Peighton gasped as she looked around, seeing cops in every corner.
“There are so many,” she said in awe.
“We protect our own,” Clay said simply. “Now, let’s go get our boy.” He held up the phone, showing that the plane was landing. They ran, their feet pounding the hard, concrete floors. Peighton’s legs felt like butter but she couldn’t stop. They shoved past people, making their way through lines for restaurants and sleeping people on the floor of the layover areas. Her body needed to hold her son.
When they finally made it to his gate, Peighton’s eyes searched the crowd. She looked for his golden hair, his perfect skin, tall, lanky body. “Kyle,” she whispered softly. “Where are you?”
“Frank!” Clay yelled, rushing away from her. Peighton looked over, realizing Frank was standing a mere ten feet away from them. Seeing Peighton and Clay, and realizing they weren’t happy to see him, he took off, running the opposite way. Clay leapt on top of him, parting the crowd. Peighton looked around, searching for the other officers to help him, but they were nowhere in sight.
Frank was able to push Clay off of him easily as he was over double his size. Clay lunged at him, punching him square in the jaw. Frank shoved him down, his eyes locking with Peighton’s for a second before he kicked Clay in the stomach and turned to run. Clay stood up, holding his stomach and attempting to run after him.
“Clay,” Peighton yelled, trying to stop him. About that time, a few of the officers came into her eyeline. She began jumping up and down, pointing the direction that Frank had run. The officers, noticing her, quickly headed the way she was directing them.
“Mom?” she heard his voice, his beautiful voice, behind her and turned to see him. In that moment, nothing else mattered. She grasped his neck, collapsing to the ground in all out sobs. He sank to the ground with her. “What’s wrong?” he asked her, his voice shaking.
She couldn’t answer, nothing but sobs coming out of he
r as she held her son, breathing in his scent. She kissed his face, his head, his hands, tears pouring down her cheeks. He hugged her tight, allowing her to continue crying. “It’s okay, Mom. I’m okay. Everything’s going to be okay.”
Forty-Five
PEIGHTON
ONE YEAR LATER
It had been a year since they’d heard from Frank, a year since the mystery had been solved, and a year since Peighton had felt true, gut-wrenching fear. Though the police didn’t manage to catch Frank, he’d disappeared from the address he’d given Kyle, and Peighton was sure he was gone for good.
But, as she stared at the letter that awaited her in the mailbox, she knew that wasn’t the case. The postmark was from Washington, though there was no return address. It was addressed to her. She recognized his handwriting immediately, and all at once the cold fear she’d known so well a year ago was back.
Standing there in the driveway, she opened the letter.
Peighton,
It’s me. I’m sure I’m the last person
you expected to hear from, or wanted
to hear from, but I have to explain. I
owe you the truth.
By now, I’m sure you know about me
and Todd. We never meant to lie to
you. It killed Todd that we were
lying. He never wanted to keep
secrets from you, Peighton. He loved
you more than you will ever know.
In some ways, I guess I was jealous
of that. We started seeing each other
after you were married, but before
he told you the truth about who he
was. You were his first love. I was his
second. Drew came much later, and
it was more a fling than anything,
but he used Drew to hide us. It was
easier that way.
The Beginning After Page 19