Page 72 of The One Before

“No, no, he doesn’t.” He strokes his jaw. “All this just worries me.”

“Let’s get dressed,” I say. “We don’t want to make your family wait.”

I stand and walk toward the staircase. Coop remains seated. “Would you tell me if there was something I needed to know?”

“What?” I say, my pitch a tad too high. My own nervousness is starting to show.

“I’d understand if you turned me in. I just want you to tell me.”

I walk over to him slowly. My phone is sitting beside him on the coffee table. I pick it up, not sure what to do. Should I call someone? Should I run? Should I be honest?

“I think I found it,” I say, scrolling through my music library.

“What?” Coop sounds grief-stricken.

“The perfect song for our first dance at the wedding.” In recent days, this has been my fail-proof tactic. Force Coop to stop thinking about the past and worrying about the present by reminding him of what’s to come.

I press play. It takes a few bars, but eventually the music fills the nervous chambers of my heart and calms me. I think the same magic is working on Coop. He smiles. He needs reassurance I’m not going anywhere.

“I’ve always liked this song,” he says.

“We both do,” I say, closing my eyes. “That’s why I picked it.”

Coop stands, placing both hands on my waist. “Will you dance with me, Madison?”

I nod. He wraps an arm around my lower back, and I lay my head on his chest. Alone in our living room, we sway to the music. I try my best to push Laura and the search party and all the other ugly parts of our reality from my mind. I try to focus on only him. This man I love, despite his faults. His crimes can’t diminish the love I’ve felt for him through the years, and the sadness I’ll feel when he’s no longer in my life.

I think he senses it, too. That the end is near. “I love you,” he whispers.

“I love you, too.”

I really did.

Fifty-Seven

Helena

I finished my liquor last night, promising myself, no matter how the day unfolds, I won’t drink again. The habit was hard to kick last time but has been a necessary accompaniment to this process. I’m unsure what this day will bring for me, but I know how it will end for Cooper.

My plan to approach him as he left theGazettedidn’t pan out. I waited outside headquarters until well after four. When he still hadn’t exited the building, I went inside. The woman behind the counter—Misty, I think was her name—said he’d already left. Defeated, I got into my car and drove to his house. I’d rather not involve Madison in any of this, but she’s had more than enough time to walk away.

I drove past their house once, wanting to gauge if anyone else was present. To my surprise, Madison and Cooper were walking to his vehicle. I turned around in time to see them merge onto the main road. I followed them along the same path I’d just driven, until they entered downtown and parked their car in the Nectar parking lot.

Whisper Falls is surprisingly busy tonight. Heads turn as the charismatic couple enters the restaurant. Cooper shakes hands with a few people he passes, still upholding the charade he’s spent an entire lifetime perfecting. I’d not intended to confront Cooper in such a crowded venue, surrounded by all these nosy people. On second thought, maybe it’s better this way. Once the real story gets out, no one will question what I’ve done. His family won’t wonder why their son and brother met such a gruesome fate. They won’t search for answers, as I did with my own daughter. At last, the truth will be revealed to all.

I park a few blocks away. I walk along the sidewalk, detouring at the Whisper Falls Memorial Gardens I visited my first day back. I stop at the bench dedicated to Celia and kneel. Last time I was here, I was determined to find resolution for her. This girl lost her life in the same way my daughter did, at the hands of Cooper Douglas. I whisper a prayer, promising both girls I won’t let him get away again. I return my hands to my pockets and tighten my grip around the gun.

Fifty-Eight

Madison

Nectar has never been more packed. There must have been a ceremony at the local high school; all the well-to-do families and trendy teenagers are here, ordering overpriced appetizers and artisan sandwiches. There’s a line of patrons waiting to take pictures in front of the chalk wall. Regina walks from behind the register to greet us, her face full of pride.

“Busy night,” I tell her, my fingers still intertwined with Coop’s. He’s been tense since we left the house, despite my attempts to calm him.

“Tell me about it,” she says, looking around the room approvingly. “No worries. I’ve set up our table in the back to give us more privacy.”

We follow her through the narrow rows of tables to a pair of sliding doors. She opens them, revealing a large round table. Josephine sits alone, swirling a glass of red wine in her hand. When she sees us, she stands and offers Coop a hug. They embrace a second longer than expected, then she looks at me and nods.

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