Page 53 of The One Before

“You don’t need to stay here, Madison.” Helena recognizes my fragile emotions and is hoping she can make one last plea for me to leave.

I hand back the picture. “She is very beautiful. I’m so very sorry.”

“He’s dangerous,” she says, taking a step closer.

“He’s my fiancé. I deserve the chance to find out if that’s true, and I can’t do it in the middle of the night.”

Helena slumps back to her chair and rummages through her bag. She takes out a pen and scribbles something on the back of a receipt. She hands me the paper.

“This is my new number. I’m staying in Whisper Falls.” She opens then shuts her mouth, surely wondering how much she can trust me. “Call if you need me. Please.”

I take the paper, balling my hand into a fist. I follow her to the door, and she doesn’t say anything else before entering her car. There is nothing left to say. The only person I need to talk to now is Coop.

Thirty-Nine

Madison

It’s near 2 a.m. The wave of sleepiness I felt before Helena’s visit has disappeared. Now I’m fully awake, my adrenaline making me desperate. How I wish Coop was here this instant! I want to attack him with questions, unleash my thoughts and fears. I need his deep voice to tell me that Helena Price is a sad, deranged individual. That this is all an unfortunate misunderstanding.

In my gut, I know all that can’t be true. As with any story, bits and pieces have accuracy. I realize these hours I have with Coop out of the house are a gift. They give me time to think. They give me time to control myself and decide how I should move forward. Like Helena did with me in the weeks she posed as Anne, I must wait for the right moment. I need to think like a journalist, not his fiancée, and follow the facts.

I thunder upstairs and do something I haven’t done since Coop first moved into my apartment, something I’d promised myself to never do again. I sling open our closet and start rummaging through every box, scanning every shelf and upturning every item. There must be something here. Some token from his past that can either validate or dismiss Helena’s story. Coop isn’t a hoarder, which makes it difficult. He doesn’t keep yearbooks and pictures. Everything’s digital now. The only sentimental items I find are in a box under his shoe rack, and they all relate to me: a ticket stub from the first baseball game we attended, his key to my old apartment and the empty box he used to store my engagement ring. That jewel twinkles from my finger but feels heavier now.

I haven’t found anything related to the life he had before me. Unfortunately, he took his laptop with him to Nashville, so I have no chance of sorting through it. I know the position of every item in this house because I’m the one who unpacked. Now I’m losing my mind trying to find all these secrets some woman I barely know claims my fiancé is hiding. I want to collapse from the stress of it all.

The only other place Coop might store belongings would be the garage. He had several boxes he left there, and I didn’t touch them. I storm outside and wait as the door opens, pulling on the dangling overhead light once inside. There’s not much here. Half of the boxes are mine, seasonal décor and clothing.

Finally, I reach a stack of boxes I haven’t seen. The first box is filled with items from his old cubicle back in the city. I flip through his address book and desk calendar but find nothing of interest. The second box contains old copies of theGazette, probably the same newspapers I found the last time I decided to go snooping. Unlike last time, there’s no pictures. That’s a good sign. Maybe in the process of moving he found that same picture and tossed it. Maybe Laura was some girl he went on a few dates with and he has no sentimentality toward her. Maybe Helena Price is a despairing person grasping for any excuse to make her daughter seem real again.

The final box is a time capsule of his college years. There are a few textbooks, and several spiral-bound notebooks with illegible scribbles. I flip through the pages; there’s not enough time in the week to read each line. Something falls loose and lands face down on the cement floor. I bend down and turn it over. Laura Price’s face smiles back at me. I can’t breathe. I can’t cry. All I can do is look at this picture of Helena’s missing daughter. I flip to another page and find a second picture tucked into the crease. This one has Coop in it, too. His arms are wrapped around Laura as they stand in front of a brick wall.

I hold the notebook, letting the pages dangle, and give it a good shake. Pictures fall to the floor, raining down around me. I grab the other notebooks and do the same. Tucked between every fifty pages or so is another picture of Laura. They float down to the ground until there’s two dozen photos of her—some with Coop, some without—staring at me, asking for answers. Answers I can’t provide.

Forty

Helena

I’ve done it. I’ve told Madison what she needs to hear, even if she’s not yet ready to act on the information. It’s easy for an outsider to look at her situation with contempt and cynicism.He’s a murderer! Get the hell out of there!I must admit, that’s been my reaction more than once. It’s what I wish Laura had done.

However, I realize my urgency stems from knowledge I’ve carried for more than a decade. Madison knows Cooper in a way I never will. She’s not going to turn her back on the man she loves so suddenly, especially when I can’t give her much in the form of proof. My only hope is she won’t make the same mistake Laura did. I don’t want her to end up the same way.

At least she’s considering what I told her. Madison’s a smart girl. Laura was smart too, but younger. If only she’d told me her concerns about Cooper without confronting him. But no, she was trying so hard to be mature. She attempted to tackle issues like an adult, never realizing adults enlist help all the time. Adults still turn to their mothers in times of crisis. Madison can’t do that. She doesn’t have a mother, but she has me. Even if she rejects my help, I’ll be here for her. I know what is best. Thank goodness I made the choice to get involved. Because now I’m no longer defending my daughter’s past, but Madison’s future, too.

Forty-One

June 16, 2006

Celia was burning from the inside out. She’d never felt such rage, such desire to strike back. Worse, she’d never felt so embarrassed. It didn’t matter what barb she slung next, in this moment Regina Douglas was untouchable, and Celia wasn’t used to being the one who was touched.

“I’m not sure what’s more ridiculous,” Celia said, after several awkward seconds. “Your accusation, or the fact you think Cooper would actually believe you.”

“You’re a nasty person, Celia. Maybe if you were nicer, I’d feel sorry for you.” Regina threw her book against the dock, which made a loud smack as it hit the wood. “You should leave.”

“I don’t have my car.” The words came out unintentionally, making Celia feel even more inadequate than she already did.

“Then fucking walk!” Regina stomped up the hill.

Celia started breathing fast and heavy. To the left of the dock, Regina’s book had landed beside a huge boulder with a gilded plaque bolted into it. The plaque read:The Douglas Family. Whisper Falls Lake. Underneath the words, there were the painted handprints of each family member. Seeing this emblem of unity added salt to her wounds. Celia grabbed the book and dropped it into the water, smirking as she watched it sink.

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