What Lies Beneath: Romantic Suspense

What Lies Beneath

Lila Moore

Copyright ©2015 Lila Moore

First published by Lila Moore 2015

Distributed by Amazon

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1

The sun filtered through the autumn leaves casting shadows onto the schoolyard. I watched as if in a trance as they danced and swayed in the breeze. It was an unusually warm day for November, but I was still bundled up in a sweater. I pulled it tightly around me as I watched and waited. Child after child ran with arms held out for their mothers and in some cases fathers. They jumped into the waiting arms of their parents and laughed.

I imagined their conversations: “How was school? What did you learn today?”

The usual greetings somehow took on a deeper meaning to me these days. Every word felt like an indecipherable code. I couldn’t figure out what the true meaning behind it all.

My son was running late. He was always the last out of the building. His teacher had affectionately referred to him as a dreamer. It was true; Aiden had an overactive imagination. He could spend hours in his fantasy worlds fighting imaginary wars with his army men, or battling monsters with his superhero toys.

I suppose most kids are like this, but Aiden had a way of building worlds that felt real, lived in. Vividly, I could see the monsters he described covered in brilliant colors and inhabiting alien landscapes.

He’d inherited his father’s imagination.

The image of my husband’s last painting flashed through my mind: a tree with twisted, gnarly roots digging deep into a rotting earth; above, its limbs, bright with the colors of spring, reached up into a sapphire sky.

When I told him I found the image unsettling, he laughed and said: “Some people see the glass half empty, some see it half full.”

He looked at the painting and saw life triumphing over darkness. At the time, I smiled. He was the eternal optimist. Now that he was dead, all I could see were the twisted roots burrowing into the soil.

I looked up at the trees above me. They blocked out the sun completely except for a few rays that shot through to the ground before me. I pulled my sweater around me tighter.

“Do you have a boy or a girl?” a voice asked from behind me.

I turned to find a man I’d never seen before. The first thing I always notice about a guy is the bone structure of his face. My husband used to say it was because I had the eye of an artist, that I was always looking for the deeper meaning in things.

As I looked at this man before me, I couldn’t help being taken aback. His jaw was square; his cheekbones high. He had the kind of face a sculptor would envy. His hair was dark and cut close on the sides, but styled long on top. He wore black-framed glasses that made his blue-green eyes pop brilliantly in the low autumn light. He looked to be in his early thirties. I’d never seen him at the school before, but I didn’t really socialize with the other parents much.

“Um… a boy,” I said, after momentarily finding myself lost in his warm smile. “What about you? Do you have a boy, or a girl?”

“A girl, though she’s not mine.”

“Oh, are you her stepdad?”

“No. I’m the nanny, or ‘manny,’ as they say these days. I work for the Devereauxes.”

I remembered overhearing two other parents gossiping about the Devereauxes. They were the wealthiest family in town. Mr. Devereaux used to work on Wall Street before the couple decided to settle down in our small town. Rumor had it he was fleeing from corruption charges.

His wife owned a clothing boutique downtown. She apparently liked to brag about her ‘hobby’ of designing fashion to sell in her store, though the other mothers claimed she was a fraud. One of the parents purchased a dress from her store and discovered a tag inside from a well-known brand. All Mrs. Devereaux’s claims of designing her own fashion line were apparently a lie.

I try to avoid small-town gossip as I’ve been a victim of it myself, but I couldn’t help laughing as the other women talked about Mrs. Devereaux. The stories about her were ridiculous. From her monthly trips into the city to ‘freshen up’ with Botox and lip fillers, to her claims of being descended from French royalty, or how she flagrantly slept with other men behind her husband’s back. All of her conquests were at least a decade younger than her. It was no surprise she’d hired a hot manny. She was probably planning on bedding him too, if she hadn’t already.

I smiled politely at the man and looked back at the school. I didn’t know what else to say to him. Since losing my husband, small talk left me feeling exhausted. The other parents knew this. They’d long given up trying to engage me in conversation.

“Is Noah your son?” he asked.

“Aiden.”

“Aiden… He’s in Bella’s class. They’re friends.”

“They are?”

I often worried Aiden didn’t have friends. A part of me was relieved to hear he did, another part of me was skeptical. What if the manny was just saying this to be nice?

“Sure. You should bring him over sometime so they can play. The Devereauxes have a huge backyard full of tree houses and play swings. It has more equipment than the school’s playground. I’m sure Bella would love to have him over and I could use the company. Mr. and Mrs. Devereaux are gone most of the time. It would be nice to have another adult to talk to.”

I wasn’t so sure I’d feel comfortable in the Devereauxes’ house. Besides I was skeptical about Bella and Aiden being friends. She was a popular, pretty rich girl and Aiden was sweet and sensitive. Anyone who remembers the social hierarchy of school knows that the two usually don’t mix. Still, they were just kids. Maybe they hadn’t reached the point where they cared about things like that. Hopefully, they never would.

“Thanks, I’ll think about it,” I said just to end the conversation. I had no plans on attending any play dates. I could barely get out of bed most days.

“You’re just saying that to get rid of me,” he said with an amused grin.

“Sorry?”

“You’re trying to shut me up and end the conversation. It’s alright. I understand.”

I was taken aback. He was right, basically. But it was strange to be called out on what I considered to be a polite way of ending a conversation.

I looked away. Aiden had finally made his way out of the school. He’d spilled the contents of his backpack all over the front steps and was desperately trying to collect all his schoolwork before the wind swept it away.

“That’s my son. I better go help him. It was nice to meet you,” I said with a forced smile.

“My name’s Theo by the way.”

“It was nice to meet you,
Theo
.”

I walked away quickly before he could say anymore. It didn’t work. He followed me.

“What’s your name?”

“Sabine.”

“That’s a beautiful name. You don’t hear it often.”

“No… thank you.”

“Have coffee with me.”

“I… uh… I don’t think…”

“Just coffee. The kids can play while we talk.”

One of Aiden’s drawings went flying past me. I reached it for it, but missed. Theo grabbed it, catching it in midair. He turned it over and looked at it. There was a watercolor drawing of a dinosaur surrounded by bright jungle fauna.

“Did you paint this?” Theo asked Aiden.

“Yeah…” he responded shyly.

“No, I don’t think so,” Theo teased.

“Yes, I did!”

“This looks far too good for a boy your age. This has to be the work of someone older. Look at how realistic the dinosaur looks. What kind is he?”

“It’s a T-Rex.”

“Do you like dinosaurs?”

“Yeah.” He nodded enthusiastically.

“You’re a very good painter.”

It broke my heart to hear Theo say this. Aiden’s father had been a passionate artist. I saw so much of him in Aiden that sometimes it was hard for me to look at my son. It was shameful but true.

I swallowed hard and tried to force down the emotions welling up inside me. I held my breath and felt them go away. Temporarily anyway. Those feelings don’t disappear. The best you can do is keep them locked away, but they always threaten to resurface at the worst possible times and destroy you.

I bent down and picked up Aiden’s schoolwork, shoving it into his backpack quickly. Bella came skipping out of the school.

“Theo!” she screamed.

She ran at him and jumped into his arms. Catching her, he laughed.

“You’re getting too big for that.”

“No I’m not. Carry me like a princess,” she demanded.

“Yes, ma’am,” he said teasingly.

“Hi, Aiden,” she said.

“Hi, Bella,” he responded. He was still beaming from Theo’s compliments.

“Do you want to come over for ice cream?” she asked.

“Maybe some other time,” I said, cutting off Aiden’s response.

Theo considered me closely. “I’m holding you to your promise,” he said after an awkward pause.

“What promise? I didn’t promise anything.”

“You promised to have coffee with me.”

Bella cooed. “Is Ms. Sinclair your girlfriend, Theo?”

“You have a boyfriend?” Aiden asked, looking confused.

“No,” I said. “I don’t have a boyfriend.”

“That’s a shame,” Theo said. “A pretty girl like you shouldn’t be alone.”

Bella and Aiden started to laugh. They were still at the age where they thought members of the opposite sex had cooties. Listening to an adult flirt with another adult left them giggling uncontrollably.

I rolled my eyes. Theo was starting to upset me.

“Come over for coffee,” Theo said. “Wouldn’t you like to come over and play, Aiden?”

“Yes,” he said uncertainly.

I could tell he understood that I didn’t want to go over to the Devereauxes’ house. Still, it was clear he did.

“I’ve got a lot to do,” I lied. “Why don’t I drop you off at their house and pick you up later?”

Aiden looked excited by the idea.

“Can I bring my dinosaurs?”

“Yeah,” Bella responded.

Theo frowned. “You won’t be joining us?”

“Is that okay?”

He looked disappointed. “I suppose so.”

“Great,” I said with false cheer.

Immense relief washed over me. Flirting was not something I was ready for. In truth, I wasn’t sure I’d ever be ready for it again.

“We’ll swing by home and pick up your dinosaurs,” I said to Aiden. “Then we’ll see you later.”

“Yay!” Bella screamed. She was a loud little girl, but I admired her enthusiasm.

“We’ll see you then,” Theo said.

He carried Bella away, stopping once to look back at me with a curious look on his face.

“He’s not really your boyfriend is he?” Aiden whispered conspiratorially.

“No,” I laughed. “Now let’s get out of here.”

2

After dropping by home to pick up Aiden’s toys, we headed to the Devereauxes’ house. It was a sprawling country home on a huge piece of land on the outskirts of town. It looked like it belonged in a magazine spread.

The idea of having to interact with Theo again gave me anxiety. I seriously considered staying in the car and waiting until Aiden was let inside then speeding away. But I knew how irresponsible that was. I needed to swallow back my fears and do the right thing.

I parked the car and walked with Aiden up to the front of the house. He craned his neck to take in the three story mansion.

“Not too shabby, is it?” I asked.

He shook his head in wonder. I laughed.

The door opened. Mrs. Devereaux stood before me. Her presence took me by surprise. I hadn’t expected her to be home.

“Hello,” I said, feeling relieved I wouldn’t be alone with Theo.

She smiled thinly. “Can I help you with something?”

She didn’t seem to know why we were there.

“Aiden has a play date with Bella.”

“Oh, how sweet,” she replied with exaggerated enthusiasm.

“Theodore!” she screeched.

Aiden and I jumped at the sound of her voice. Theo came running over.

“Do you know about…
this
?” She said ‘this’ like she was referring to an unknown species. I smiled at Aiden awkwardly.

“This is Bella’s friend Aiden and his mother, Sabine. I invited them over.”

“Did you?” Mrs. Devereaux said strangely.

Suddenly her blouse fell open almost as if by design. Her deep cleavage and red bra were on full display. Theo glanced down at her chest, then looked away. His face betrayed nothing. If he was turned on, or repulsed, it was a mystery to me. Not that it mattered. Theo was free to sleep with Mrs. Devereaux or whoever he wanted.

A foreign emotion washed over me. I slowly realized it wasn’t foreign; it had just been a long time since I’d experienced it: jealousy. Mrs. Devereaux had it all: money, an amazing house, her own business, a happy, popular child, a successful husband, and more. And yet, it still wasn’t good enough for her. She had to claim the hot manny for her own too.

I hated to admit it, but a part of me liked Theo’s attention. No one had flirted with me, or asked me out since my husband’s passing. I wasn’t looking for a boyfriend, but it was nice getting attention from a handsome man. It was selfish of me to want Theo for my own when I had no intention of dating him, but I couldn’t help myself. I didn’t want him, but I didn’t want to watch Mrs. Devereaux throw herself at him either.

“If this is a bad time…”

I grabbed Aiden’s shoulder and started to leave.

“No,” Theo protested. His eyes pleaded with me to stay. I suddenly had the feeling he didn’t want to be alone with Mrs. Devereaux either. “Please,” he said, “stay. Bella’s been setting up the backyard with her toys. She would be disappointed if you left.”

Aiden perked up. It wasn’t until that moment I realized what a lonely child he was. He craved attention and he wanted to belong just like everyone. I’d isolated myself since his father’s death and inadvertently isolated Aiden as well. He needed to play and interact with other children even if dealing with Mrs. Devereaux and Theo gave me anxiety.

“Come in, please,” Theo said.

“Yes, do come in,” Mrs. Devereaux said with significantly less enthusiasm.

I put on my most polite smile and pushed Aiden into the house. Theo showed him where Bella was playing in the backyard and before I knew it the three of us were alone together.

“Coffee?” Theo asked.

“Yes, please.”

“How do you take it?”

“With a lot of sugar.”

“You know how I like mine,” Mrs. Devereaux said with a knowing grin.

I braced myself for some bad innuendo about how she liked her coffee ‘hot and strong.’ To my relief, it never came. She continued to smile flirtatiously at Theo and ignore me. He placed a mug down in front of me, then served Mrs. Devereaux. She seemed annoyed that she had to wait to be served.

I hate small talk, but the awkward silence was starting to get to me.

“So, Theo, how long have you been in town?” I asked.

“Theodore was placed here by the nanny service about a month ago,” Mrs. Devereaux answered for him. “I hand picked him myself,” she said to me with a wink. “Of course my husband hates having a handsome man around the house. But I think competition is good for men. Don’t you agree? I bet your husband would be green with envy if you hired a manny like Theo.”

I felt as if all the blood had drained from my face. The walls started to close in. Mrs. Devereaux tossed her long blonde hair back and sipped on her coffee. She started to drum her nails on the mug. The clicking sound was like nails on a chalkboard to me.

I glanced at my watch. Only ten minutes had passed. This was excruciating. My sTomach tossed and turned with anxiety like I had a nest of snakes living inside me. Every click of her nails sounded like an anvil. My chest felt tight and I was having a hard time breathing. The overwhelming urge to escape flooded me.

“I think I’ll go check on the kids,” I said.

Without waiting for a response, I jumped up and ran out the backdoor. A cool breeze hit me. I moved away from the windows so Theo and Mrs. Devereaux couldn’t see me. The kids were at the far end of the yard playing in a sandbox. They seemed to be lost in a game involving dinosaurs and princess dolls. I didn’t want to disturb their fun. I sat down on the deck and took a deep breath. I concentrated on the feeling of air entering my lungs and leaving.

“If you can survive the next ten seconds you can survive anything,” I told myself.

It was an old trick that my former therapist taught me. When I had panic attacks I was supposed to breathe slowly and ask myself: Can you survive the next ten seconds? I counted slowly to ten then back down again. The trick was to take life slowly. Don’t worry about the long term just get through the moment.

The knots in my sTomach started to unravel. I relaxed and let the cool breeze hit my face. My anxiety faded away; in its place, my temper flared. Why had Mrs. Devereaux made that remark about my husband being jealous? Surely, she knew he was dead. Everyone in town knew. It was the subject of heated gossip. No one wanted to accept the truth of his passing. They whispered about suicide and murder. It was hard to listen to. I did everything I could to shield Aiden from it.

I had a hard time believing Mrs. Devereaux hadn’t heard the rumors. That left only one possibility: she brought up my husband to drive a wedge between me and Theo.

She was petty and ridiculous. There was nothing between me and Theo; she had nothing to feel threatened by. Of course that didn’t stop her from viciously trying to neutralize me as a threat. I was starting to understand why all the other mothers hated her.

“You forgot your coffee,” Theo said from behind me.

I stiffened. I hadn’t heard him approach. He handed it to me over my shoulder. I took it without turning to face him. When I’m nervous, or angry, my face gets red and I had no doubt it was scarlet now.

I didn’t want him to see me like this.

I heard the sound of a deckchair being dragged across the wooden floor. Theo sat down beside me, but slightly behind as if he was afraid of getting too close. I could see him out of the corner of my eye watching me.

“Mrs. Devereaux was called away,” he said. “An emergency at her store.”

“I hope everything’s okay,” I said, not really caring.

“I’m sure it’s fine. It will be a relief to have her-”

“Have her what? Gone?” a man said from behind us.

We both startled at the sound of his voice.

“Mr. Devereaux,” Theo said, “you’re home early.”

I glanced at my watch. It was after six. How late did he usually get in? I wasn’t sure what he actually did for a living, but it was hard to imagine any job in our small town operating late into the evening.

“Relax,” he said. “I’m just messing with you.” A wolfish grin spread across his face as he sized me up. “And who is this?” he asked.

Theo cleared his throat. “This is Mrs. Sinclair. Her son Aiden is friends with Bella. She brought him over so they can play.”

He kept his eyes on me as Theo continued to talk.

“Mrs. Devereaux was called away with an emergency at the store.”

Mr. Devereaux nodded absently as if he was barely listening. “Have you prepared Bella’s dinner?” he asked sharply.

“Uh, not yet.”

“Why don’t you go do that now?”

It was more of a command than a request. Theo looked at me uncertainly then said: “Right away, Mr. Devereaux.”

I watched Theo leave. He looked tense. I sensed he didn’t like leaving me alone with Mr. Devereaux.

He sat down in Theo’s seat, inching his way closer to me.

“I don’t think we’ve met,” he said.

“No.”

“I’m sure I’d remember a pretty thing like you.”

I took a big drink from my coffee. The sugar and caffeine made my head swim. I cleared my throat.

“The kids seem to get along well,” I said, trying to change the subject away from me.

“It’s warm out. Why don’t you take off that sweater and relax,” he said, ignoring my comment.

“I’m fine, thanks.”

“You’re a different breed, aren’t you?”

“Excuse me?”

“It’s just that most of these soccer mom types they’re all so, well, uptight. I can tell you’re different. You’re the kind of girl who’s been around the block- the kind of girl who knows how to keep a secret.”

He leaned in close and placed his hand on my knee.

“Can you keep a secret?” he asked.

I squirmed away from his touch. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Are you a good girl?” he said with a laugh. “No. I can tell you’re wild. You’re an artist, right? I’ve seen your work down in the courthouse.”

It was true; I used to be an artist before my husband died. It was how we met, but I stopped painting when he died. The piece that was hanging in the courthouse downtown was actually done by my husband though.

“I don’t know,” I said, wanting this conversation to end.

“Sure you do. It’s the painting of the farmland down past the lake. It’s signed Sinclair.”

“That was my husband’s work.”

“Oh, that’s right the one who died. I was there when they pulled his body out of the lake.”

Part of me was repulsed by Mr. Devereaux, but another part of me was oddly comforted by his candor. I spent so much time around people who tap-danced around my husband’s death. They would feign outrage or sympathy. It was patronizing and insulting. I didn’t want or need anyone’s pity. Mr. Devereaux couldn’t be bothered to fake pity. He was simply stating the facts.

“You were there?” I asked.

“I used to be volunteer law enforcement. They called us all down to scour the area for clues.”

“Clues? I don’t understand.”

The days following the discovery of my husband’s body were all a blur to me. I was in shock. I remember very little from that time.

“Evidence. The Sheriff suspected murder. Still does. We never found any evidence though.”

This was news to me. Town gossip was that my husband had been murdered, or committed suicide, but I had no idea the Sheriff had seriously entertained these notions.

Mr. Devereaux put his hand back on my knee. “Don’t you worry, now. No one ever suspected you.”

I snapped my head around. “Of course not. Why would they?” I was speaking louder than I should have been.

“Easy now,” he laughed. “I’m not accusing you. I know you’re innocent. It’s just that you’re not from around here. You come from the city and for some folks that’s enough to make you suspect. Trust me, I know. I grew up out in the country, but used to work in the city. No one trusts me now just because I had an important job on Wall Street.”

He squeezed my leg and moved it higher up my thigh. He was starting to make me angry. I wanted to scream in his face: Really? You think they don’t trust you because you used to work on Wall Street? Maybe it’s because you’re a creep who can’t keep his hands to himself?

I tried to bite my tongue, but I couldn’t resist. “Are you so sure I’m innocent? I mean you never know. Wives snap all the time. They find out their husband has a wandering eye and they lose it. Do you know any temperamental women like that?”

I hoped he was smart enough to read between the lines: if your wife finds out, she’ll kill you. He didn’t look frightened. In fact, he thought it was hilarious. He threw his head back and laughed.

“I knew I was going to like you. You’re feisty.”

I gritted my teeth. “I think it’s time Aiden and I go.”

I didn’t bother to make an excuse as to why we were leaving. I jumped up. It was a relief to have his clammy hand off me.

“Aiden?” I called. “Time to go.”