What Lies Beneath: Romantic Suspense (14 page)

“What’s wrong?” Theo asked.

“How am I supposed to live with what I’ve done?”

“By understanding that you did what you had to. You’re a survivor.”

“You sound like Jillian.”

“You should listen to her. She knows what it’s like to be in your shoes.”

“I wish I knew where she was.”

I watched shadows dance across the ceiling. The gloomy overcast weather gave my bedroom a strange blue glow. The sky outside had been churning with clouds heavy with rain.

“When do you think Mr. Devereaux will be reported missing?” I asked.

There was a pause before Theo answered.

“I don’t know. I think it’ll be a few days, though.”

As if on cue, Theo’s cell phone rang.

“I’ll be right back,” he said.

He jumped out of bed and walked into the kitchen to take his call. I looked out the window. The guesthouse door was still open. I could see all the torn canvases I’d left behind. Had Theo noticed them? I hoped not. Maybe it wasn’t too late to clean up before he saw them. I knew I wouldn’t be getting any sleep for a while anyway, so I pushed myself out of bed and grabbed my crutches.

I limped into the living room to discover Theo was gone. The front door was open a crack and I could hear his voice coming from the front porch, but I couldn’t make out what he was saying.

I grabbed a trash bag and headed out into the back. I picked up what remained of the torn paintings and threw them into the trash bag, piece by piece. I reached down to grab a psychedelic green and blue piece of canvas when something caught my eyes. I held it up to the light and turned it over in my hands.

“You’ve got to learn to stop sneaking off like this,” Theo said from the backdoor.

“Sorry. I just wanted to clean up some of this mess.”

“Did you find something?”

“What does this look like to you?”

I handed the torn painting to Theo.

“It looks like a baby lying in grass… or maybe water?”

“What else do you see?”

He turned the piece around and looked closely.

“The background is strange, dreamlike. The baby is swaddled in a white blanket.”

“What else?”

He shook his head. “I don’t know.”

“The baby’s blonde.”

Theo looker closer. “Yeah. And it has something in its hair.”

“A bow.”

“Yeah, I see it now. What about it?”

“When Aiden was born, he had dark curly hair- still does. And I never put bows in his hair.”

“What are you saying? That this isn’t Aiden?”

“Right. I’ve never seen this painting before. Tom always shared his work with me when it was finished.” I thought of the painting featuring Mrs. Devereaux’s face. “Usually, he showed me, anyway. So whose baby is this?”

“I think you’re getting ahead of yourself. Your husband was an artist. This is probably just a metaphor for something. It’s probably not meant to be taken literally.”

I shook my head. “Tom always included the faces of people he knew in his work. When Aiden was born he had a series of works that included his face hidden in the paintings. It was sort of like an inside joke with him. I’m sure this baby was more than just symbolic.”

“So who is it?”

My mind raced with the possibilities. Then suddenly it hit me. I knew who the baby was.

“Oh, shit…”

“What?”

“It can’t be… No, I’m sure of it,” I said talking to myself. 

I should have seen it. She had Tom’s eyes, his coloring. She was outgoing and loud in the same way Tom was and she adored Aiden. Bella was Tom’s daughter.

“It’s Bella,” I whispered.

Theo looked away as if he was trying to piece it all together.

“That means the affair was going on for much longer than you suspected,” Theo said.

I swallowed hard. I had no idea who my late husband really was. I lived with a man who hid a secret life for years, and the worst part was that I was totally oblivious. I’d spent the last two years mourning the death of a man who never existed.

I started to laugh. It was a hysterical reaction, the result of sadness, anger and relief. I was desperate to find a reason to let Tom go. Well, I’d found one. This was not what I wanted, but I couldn’t help feeling as if the weight on my shoulders had been greatly reduced.

“Do you think it would make a difference to the investigation?” I asked. “If the police learned that Mrs. Devereaux and Tom were alone on that bridge together, and that they had a child, would they look at her more closely?”

Theo thought for a moment then shook his head. “They will question Mrs. Devereaux, but I’m sure she’ll deny any involvement. If anything, you’re just handing the detectives a motive on a silver platter. They already suspect you and once cops become sure of a suspect it’s hard for them to let it go. They’ll think you killed him in a jealous rage.”

“I can’t win, can I?”

“Winning is surviving. We’re going to make it through this.”

Theo wrapped an arm around me and ran his hand up and down my back. I rested my head on his chest and looked at the image of Bella. The eyes were unmistakably Tom’s. I let the canvas fall from my hand.

“Let’s get this cleaned up,” Theo said.

I nodded absently. Theo and I picked up the pieces of my husband’s life’s work and threw them in the garbage.

25

I nervously waited for Aiden to return home. In spite of Theo’s assurances, it felt wrong to leave him at the Deverauxes’. I didn’t like him sleeping in the lion’s den. Mrs. Devereaux could show up at any minute. If she was already suspicious of me, then what would stop her from taking out her anger on Aiden? No. It was a bad idea for him to stay there.

I managed to convince Theo of the same. Learning that Bella was Tom’s child had left him rattled. I don’t know what he was thinking, but he was as eager as I was to get Aiden out of the Devereauxes’ house.

When his calls to their home went unanswered, he calmly told me he was going to drive over and pick Aiden up. I detected concern beneath his cool exterior.

“I’ll go with you,” I said.

He considered me for a moment, then said no. “I don’t want a confrontation between the two of you. You need to stay away from each other. I’ll pick up Aiden and be back in a few minutes. Just stay here. Don’t go outside. And try to stay awake. I don’t want you sleepwalking while I’m gone.”

“Okay. Call me if there’s a problem.”

“Lock the door behind me.”

After a quick kiss, Theo was gone. I did as he said, locking the door and pouring a cup of coffee. I didn’t want to fall asleep and wander off. The idea frightened me. Who knew what I would hallucinate or where I would end up?

I poured a ton of sugar into my coffee and drank it down quickly. The heat filled my stomach warmly. The rush of caffeine made me a bit jittery. I watched the clock. The more time passed, the more useless I felt. I needed to do something, anything. I started to clean the house to distract myself, but the longer Theo was gone, the more worried I became.

Where was he? It only took about ten minutes to drive to the Devereauxes’ place. Twenty minutes had passed since he left. There was no reason to worry yet. By the time Theo wrangled Aiden and collected all his things it could be another twenty or thirty minutes before they left. Plus, I knew Aiden would be angry about having his play date with Bella cut short. I’m sure he would try to talk Theo into letting him stay longer.

His sister, I thought suddenly. Bella was his sister. Did they know? Was there some connection between them that only a sibling could recognize? It seemed unlikely. Still, they shared a connection whether they realized it or not.

I was checking my watch for the hundredth time when there was a knock at the door. I breathed a sigh of relief. They were home. I moved as quickly as I could, throwing open the door without looking through the peephole first.

Mrs. Devereaux stood before me. Her hand rested on Aiden’s shoulder. The sight of her caught me off balance. I hadn’t anticipated seeing her show up at my door with my son. I looked past her expecting to see Theo. He was nowhere in sight.

“Say hello to your mother,” Mrs. Devereaux said.

When Aiden didn’t respond, she squeezed his shoulder. I watched her nails dig into him. Aiden winced. I took a step forward.

“No,” she said to me, as if commanding a dog to stay still. It was then I noticed she had her hand in her pocket. She pulled it out slowly, revealing that her finger was on the trigger of a gun. “The three of us are going to take a walk.”

“Leave Aiden here. You don’t need him. You and I can settle things ourselves.”

“No. I think he should come to. He helps keep his mommy in line. Don’t you agree, Aiden?”

He didn’t respond. He looked up at Mrs. Devereaux then at me. It was clear he understood something was very wrong, but I don’t think he had the slightest clue how bad things were. I smiled thinly to try and reassure him it would all be okay. I’m not sure it worked.

“Let’s go,” Mrs. Devereaux said.

Aiden’s eyes were big and round, taking in the scene before him. He was usually so talkative, but now he was dead quiet.

“Where are we going?” I asked.

“Just get in the car.”

Mrs. Devereaux shuffled her feet and looked around wildly. Aiden winced at the grip she held on his shoulder increased.

“Okay,” I said, not wanting to upset her further.

I grabbed Theo’s coat and put it on, then I stepped out of the house and walked past her. I went ice cold all over; my hands started to tremble. Mr. Devereaux’s sports car was sitting in my driveway. It was the same car he’d driven the night before. It was supposed to be in the woods near his dead body.

“Eye for an eye…” Mrs. Devereaux mumbled. “I never gave you enough credit. You’re ruthless.”

Her voice broke, not with tears, but rage. She knew that her husband was dead and that I was responsible. Theo. He must have betrayed me, I thought with a sickening lurch. He was working for her all along. I’d been right to suspect him. He was just another man who’d fallen under her spell. I wanted to vomit. It was then I felt the barrel of the gun dig into my back.

“Go,” she hissed.

I opened the passenger’s-side door and slid inside. A few short hours ago, I’d sat here beside Mr. Devereaux. The car still smelled of his cologne. I half expected to see him slide behind the wheel and make a sarcastic remark.

Mrs. Devereaux opened the driver’s-side door and pushed Aiden inside. He crawled over the seat to the back and put on his seatbelt.

“We’re not going far,” she barked at him, as if he’d done something wrong.

Aiden jumped and looked to me for help.

“It’s okay,” I said calmly, “just do as Mrs. Devereaux says.”

“That’s right,” she said a bit too forcefully.

Her hair was pulled up into a messy bun. Long strands of blonde hair hung wildly in her face and her mascara was smudged beneath her eyes. I’d never seen her look so disheveled.

“Do you love your mother, Aiden?” she asked.

Aiden didn’t respond.

“I’m talking to you,” she yelled.

“It’s okay,” I said. “Answer her.”

“Yes,” Aiden replied.

“Did you love your father?”

Aiden hesitated before finally saying yes. Though it sounded more like a question that a statement. I’m not sure Aiden even remembered Tom. After everything I discovered about him, maybe that was a good thing.

“You look just like that son of a bitch. Same eyes, same dark hair.”

Aiden looked shaken. I never swore around him or spoke ill of his father.

Mrs. Devereaux rolled her eyes and started the ignition. She pulled out of the driveway going fast. She nearly hit the neighbor’s mailbox before throwing the car into Drive. We sped down the alley onto a side street. Instantly, I knew we were headed for the bridge. The overcast day kept most people out of the park, but I could see a few people further down the lake. Mrs. Devereaux pulled her car to a stop at the start of the bridge.

“Get out,” she ordered.

I got out slowly, as if drawing the moment out could somehow prevent the inevitable. I had a very bad feeling about this. Mrs. Devereaux’s eyes were glassy and her pupils were dilated. The spark of life had left her. I recognized the look. It was the same way I felt after Tom’s death.

“How did you know about…?” I started, but couldn’t bring myself to finish my sentence. I didn’t want to say it out loud, especially not in front of Aiden. Mrs. Devereaux seemed to understand that I was referring to her husband’s death.

“I was the one who told him to take you out there and get rid of you. He couldn’t even do that right. He was always weak. I mean, he let himself get killed by you. How pathetic can you get?” Mrs. Devereaux’s voice broke, this time with grief. “I never thought you’d figure it out, or that you’d get revenge.”

“It wasn’t revenge. He wanted me dead. I had to defend myself.”

I glanced at Aiden. He was listening with rapt attention.

“Sure,” she said with a laugh. “You know, when he didn’t come back I actually thought he’d chickened out and run off with one of his bimbos. I went out there to make sure he was getting the job done. I found his car and saw the blood. What did you do with his body?”

“Theo took care of it,” I said.

She looked startled. “He knows?”

I realized then that I’d just made two mistakes. First, Theo wasn’t helping Mrs. Devereaux. There was something in her reaction that made it clear. Two, I’d just put a target on his back. Now she would have to get rid of him too.

“Guess I underestimated you. That won’t happen again.”

She pointed at the bridge with her gun. It was broad daylight, people could see us, but she wasn’t even bothering to conceal the gun anymore.

“Go,” she ordered.

I pushed Aiden behind me then started the long walk to the midpoint of the bridge. When we reached it she closed her eyes and threw back her head. The wind blew through her hair, pulling it free of the messy bun on her head and tangling it into knots.

“I like to come to this spot,” she said.

“This is where you pushed him.”

Her eyes flew open; she snapped her head in my direction.

“Why did you push him?”

“I was trying to help him. He was making a mistake,” she replied.

“Tom wanted stop seeing you,” I guessed.

Her eyes lit up with rage. I’d guessed correctly.

“Men don’t leave you, do they? You’re the one who does the leaving.”

Mrs. Devereaux laughed with faux modesty, as if I’d flattered her.

“But he wasn’t going to stop there. He was going to take Bella with him. Did your husband know he wasn’t Bella’s father? Did he even care?” I asked.

Mrs. Devereaux looked out over the water.

“Tragic,” she said.

“What?”

“Your mental health… that’s what they’ll say. ‘I can’t believe she killed herself and her son. It must have been her husband’s death that broke her. You know they say she murdered Tom too.’ That’s going to be the town gossip. Fortunately for you, you won’t be around to hear it.”

“I don’t understand,” I said breathlessly.

Mrs. Devereaux motioned with her gun towards the edge. Aiden held onto me with a death grip. Mrs. Devereaux took a step closer; I stepped back. It was then I realized she was herding us closer to the edge of the bridge.

“You’re going to jump,” she said. “And you’re going to take that brat with you. It will look like the tragic suicide of a mentally disturbed woman.”

“You’re nuts. Look around you. There are people down by the lake having a picnic. They’ll identify you.”

Mrs. Devereaux squinted and looked across the lake. She shrugged.

“They’re far away. They won’t see or hear anything. Sound doesn’t carry very well up here. Trust me, I know.”

A scream of anguish echoed across the water. I ran to the side of the bridge and looked over, searching for the source of the sound. The water was calm; there was no one around.

“What is it?” Mrs. Devereaux asked. She was staring at me strangely.

“Momma?” Aiden said, as if he was worried about me.

It was then I realized that they hadn’t heard the scream. It was in my head. My eyes cut across the water frantically. I half expected to see Tom thrashing in the water, but all was calm.

“What?” Mrs. Devereaux repeated. She sounded extremely irritated.

Then I saw it.

Everything came back in a rush. The night Tom died I’d woken up in bed to find him gone. I’d smiled at the thought of him still in his art room, slaving away over his new painting.

I’d put on my shoes and gone to the back porch. Just as I opened the door, I saw the back gate close. My first thought was that someone was trespassing. I ran to Tom’s art room, but it was dark and the door was locked. I pounded on the door, but it was clear he was gone.

I ran to the gate, opened it and peeked out into the alley. Barely visible in the moonlight, Tom was at the far end of the alley, headed towards the main road. I started to call out to him, but something stopped me. Where was he going? It was the middle of the night.

My instincts told me to keep my mouth shut. I tiptoed down the alley after him. Twice I lost sight of him. I felt foolish. I was in my nightgown; lightning and thunder lit up the horizon.

There was probably a logical explanation for his absence. Maybe Tom decided to take a walk to clear his mind? Or maybe he decided to walk to the twenty-four hour café and pick up some caffeine? The café was a long walk, though and Tom was headed in the opposite direction.

When I lost sight of him for the second time, I resolved to turn around and head back home. I’d ask Tom in the morning about where he was. A scream froze me in my tracks. The cry came from the lake. Without thinking, I took off running towards the water.

When I reached the edge of the road a few feet away from the bridge I stopped. I heard a second scream. This time, it didn’t sound anguished so much as full of rage.

Tom was on the bridge with a woman wearing a scarf. She threw her arms around wildly while screaming at him. Tom held a flashlight in his crossed arms. He wore a smirk on his face that made him look smug.

I stopped to watch, unsure of what to think. I couldn’t get a good look at the woman’s face. How did they know each other? Suddenly, she pushed him hard. He staggered back, bracing himself against the railing that ran along the bridge. Tom turned on her. My chest felt tight. I expected to see an outburst of violence. Instead, I heard laughter. It echoed faintly across the water. Tom found this funny. I never fought back when he attacked me. Apparently, he liked that this woman was aggressive.