Page 25 of The One Before

“It would help if you could provide a last name.”

“I can’t remember his last name!” I shouted, weak from the lack of sleep and beginning to shake. “He was with her the last time we spoke. It’s a small place. You have a first name. He can’t be that hard to find.”

I could feel their judgment. They didn’t appreciate an outsider coming into their community and giving them orders. “We’re doing all we can,” they said.

That was the first in a series of lies. They weren’t doing enough because they still hadn’t found her. Our family made flyers and posted them around town. Some of her friends contacted me; they didn’t have useful information, but they offered to help in any way they could. In the blur that was those first, frightening days, I never heard from a friend named Cooper.

She’d been missing a week when her classmates organized a vigil. I didn’t much like calling it that because a body hadn’t been found. I still had hope, but at least they were trying to raise awareness. More people arrived than I could have dreamed. Of course, drama attracts an audience. Always has. There were so many faces, most of them young, some tear-stained, all curious. Did any of them really know her? Did they know where she’d gone?

After a while, it became too overwhelming. I slipped away from the crowd and rushed to the outdoor bathrooms. I’d meant to splash my face with water but ended up throwing up. Fear really sank in that day. She’d been gone a week. Seven days. My girl would never put me through this heartache intentionally. What if she never came back?

I exited the stall, defeated and alone. Outside, I stood by the water fountain, watching my daughter’s mourners in the distance. All this grief and hoping and prayer. The weather was sunny and perfect, much like in the park on the last day I saw her. Surely that wouldn’t be our last moment together. It couldn’t be.

“Sad, isn’t it?”

I turned to see who was speaking and saw a tall young man with a pale complexion, his blond hair swiped just above his brows.

“Excuse me?” I asked, caught off guard.

“Sorry,” he said. Like me, he appeared to be avoiding the crowd. “I thought you were with the vigil.”

“Oh, that. Yes, I am.”

“Did you know her well?”

“All her life,” I said. I resented the extra attention I’d received in recent days. I didn’t want sympathy, I only wanted to find my daughter.

“She was really special,” he said, looking over the crowd, then down at his feet.

“Were you friends?” I did enjoy the stories people shared about her. I thought maybe he had one, a happy memory that could bring her back, if only for a moment.

“For a while.” He reached out his hand for a handshake. “I’m Cooper Douglas.”

My jaw dropped as I realized this mystery boyfriend wasn’t only at the vigil but standing right in front of me. “Helena,” I said, refusing his hand.

My name connected immediately. We’d never met, but surely she’d told him about me. He took a step back. “I’m sorry for your loss.” He darted away. I could almost see the tail between his legs!

“Cooper, wait.” I chased after him. “I’ve been trying to contact you. I’m hoping you might be able to tell the police—”

“I’ve already talked to the police.” He turned his back to me.Turned his back. At my own daughter’s vigil. He tried to ignore me.

“She told me the most wonderful things about you, you know.” I wanted him to view me as friendly, not some sniveling mourner. Maybe he wouldn’t be quite so on edge. “I know you were with her the day she disappeared. You could know something helpful and not even realize it.”

“I don’t have anything to say to the police,” he said. “And I don’t have anything to say to you.”

He turned and I saw his face. I saw the fear. He was too young to hide it. That’s the moment I knew he was involved. Why else wouldn’t he try to help me? Why wouldn’t he search high and low, as I was? Unless he knew there was no one to find.

“What did she talk to you about that day?” I asked, chasing him through patches of grass until we reached the gravel parking lot. “Can you tell me? Please.”

“I’m sorry. I have to go.” He hopped into a truck and drove away.

I’ve never forgotten his reaction that day. His cruelty for not answering my simple questions. He was younger then, afraid and intimidated, but that didn’t stop all her other friends from coming to her defense. I hoped our chance meeting had only spooked him and he would reach out later with more information. Instead, his parents hired a lawyer to conduct communication with the police. Cooper never contacted me again.

The entire situation could have been handled differently. He made his choice then, as we all do. As far as I’m concerned, Cooper Douglas deserves every ounce of heartbreak I’m about to throw his way.

Eighteen

Madison

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