“That’s a horrible idea,” Daphne said.
“Finally, we agree on something,” Celia said. “Stupid idea and a complete waste of time.”
“I think it would be fun,” Gwyn said enthusiastically, one hand on Daniel’s arm.
I finally got my breath under control. “Hold on,” I said, starting to feel a little panicked. Oh God, what have I gotten myself into? I can’t possibly have a séance in that house. What on earth would Stefan say? “I’m the one who would need to coordinate it, and I don’t think it’s a very good idea.”
“Why not?” Mia asked. “It may be good for you, too.”
There was a full glass of wine in front of me. I seized it and drank a little frantically. Again, I didn’t remember the waitress bringing me a new glass. How many had I drank so far? “I have a sixteen-year-old stepdaughter.”
“So, what?” Barry said. “You were sixteen when you did the first one.”
I made a face. “I’d rather not put ideas in her head.”
“We could plan around your stepdaughter,” Mia said. “Your husband too, for that matter.”
I didn’t like this direction at all. “More importantly, I’m with Daphne. I don’t really want to go through that whole experience again either.”
“Let’s talk about it later,” Daniel said in his no-nonsense, I’m-taking-no-argument cop voice, firmly putting his beer down. After a pause, the conversation shifted to sports. Gwyn gave him an adoring look. I couldn’t help myself—I rolled my eyes, before I noticed Mia looking at me. She grinned and winked at me. I started to make a face at her, but instead I found myself grinning back.
Man had I missed her.
The conversation moved on from sports to even lighter topics. Barry had the whole table laughing with a few of his work stories—he was the sales manager at a local car dealership that his dad owned. I chimed in with a couple of stories from New York. I lost track of both the time and the number of drinks I had, until I stumbled to my feet for a trip to the ladies’ room.
“What happened to you in New York?’ Barry asked as I struggled to keep myself upright. “You used to be able to hold your liquor. You turn into a lightweight?”
“Yeah, well, we’re sophisticated back in New York,” I said, nearly falling as I got out of the booth. “We don’t drink just anything. We’re refined, in our alcohol tastes.”
The table hooted. “You can’t even say ‘sophisticated,’” Barry laughed.
A strong, warm hand grabbed my arm and steadied me. Daniel. “You okay?” he asked.
The place he touched on my arm felt warmer than it should have. My emotions churned confusingly in my gut. I pulled my arm away and straightened up. “Yes, thank you.” Did he let go of my arm a little reluctantly? Of course not. I was being ridiculous. I shook my head to clear it, as I headed for the bathroom.
I took a few moments pretending to fix my appearance, but really, I just needed to pull myself together. I had a bit too much to drink, that’s all. In fact, I realized I probably needed to go home and sleep it off.
Home. Chrissy. Oh God, I’d totally forgotten about her. I hurriedly dug around in my purse for my cell. No messages—was that good? Or bad? It was a lot later than I had expected. Would I be able to drive? If I couldn’t, would I be able to get a taxi? And how would I explain that to Chrissy?
I really sucked at being a stepmother.
The bathroom door opened, and a woman a few years older than me tottered in. She was stuffed into tight jeans and a tight, red top that was cut low, showing off her ample cleavage. Her dyed blonde hair was piled high on her head in a messy bun that was beginning to unravel. High-heeled, sexy red shoes completed the outfit.
“Oh,” she said, when she saw me. “I didn’t think anyone was in here.”
I smiled wanly back at her. It was clear she had had a bit too much too, and I wasn’t really in the mood for conversation.
She tottered a few steps closer, peering at me. Suddenly, she frowned. “Wait. You’re Charlie’s niece, aren’t you? From New York.” She didn’t make it sound like a good thing.
“Um, yes,” I said. Maybe she was just a little drunk and didn’t mean to sound unfriendly. “And you are …?”
She straightened up, glaring at me. “Why don’t you go back to New York? No one wants you here anyway.” She turned on her heel, nearly twisting her ankle in the process, and stomped into one of the stalls.
Shaken, for a moment all I could do was stand there. Where was the hostility coming from? Did I do something to her fifteen years ago I couldn’t remember?
I definitely needed to get out of that bar. Immediately.
I took a deep breath to steady myself and opened the door.
Daniel was waiting for me, arms crossed, leaning against the exposed red brick wall. He did not look happy. “Took you long enough.”
And the night just kept getting worse and worse. “Is that a crime?” I snapped. I wanted to get out of there before that woman came out of the bathroom. I didn’t feel up to another confrontation.
He glowered at me. “I want to talk.”
“That’s too bad, because I don’t.” I started to walk past him, but he moved to block me. My reflexes were slowed because of the alcohol, and I was almost on top of him before I stopped myself. I was so close I could smell his soap, clean and woodsy, mixed with beer, and the musky scent that was him, and for one wild moment, I thought he might kiss me. His dark-blue eyes stared into mine, and a spark of shock, frustration, and desire sizzled between us.
I took a step backward before I embarrassed myself by instinctively leaning in for that unwanted kiss.
“Why didn’t you tell me about the séance?” He took a step backward as well, and a cool rush of air kissed my face instead, the coldness jolting me back to my senses. God, I had definitely had too much to drink.
“Why on earth would I? We were couple of dumb teenagers who managed to scare the crap out of ourselves. How would knowing that help you find out what happened to Jessica? Are you seriously thinking about interrogating a ghost?”
His mouth pressed into a line. “Don’t be stupid. This is exactly why I want to talk to you about that night. Who knows what else you haven’t shared because you don’t think it’s important.”
“Maybe I don’t think it’s important because it isn’t important.”
He shook his head. “You don’t know that.”
“And you know better? Why? Because you’re a cop?”
“Because I have more of the bigger picture than you have.”
“Then why don’t you tell me this bigger picture? Maybe then I could help.”
He paused, his eyes narrowing. “Does that mean you’ll answer my questions?”
I bit my lip and looked away. How could I respond to that? As much as I would love to get some of my questions answered—like what did I actually say to the cops back then? And who is this witness, and what did he or she see? —how could I admit to him I really couldn’t answer his questions? That I didn’t have the ability? Wouldn’t he think my patchy memory made me look guilty?
I turned back to Daniel. The cop was back—he was simply standing there, watching me. Like a predator. Waiting for me to respond. But, even in my inebriated state, I could see something beneath the cop—something hopeful, almost eager, even boyish.
And, below that, a glimmer of something else. A spark. Desire. For something that could have been, and never had a chance.
Or maybe it was all just wishful thinking, on my part.
I opened my mouth, to say what, I’m not sure—the truth, a lie, something in between. But I never got the chance.
A bright, cheery voice interrupted the moment, saving me. “Oh, there you two are.”
Gwyn rounded the corner, smiling and reaching possessively for Daniel’s arm, angling her hand in such a way that
I had no choice but to notice the diamond ring prominently displayed on her ring finger. I quickly dropped my gaze. Man, she was annoying.
Was it my imagination, or did Daniel’s face flatten with disappointment, right before he plastered a plastic smile on his face? “Just asking Becca a few follow-up questions about the séance,” he said lightly.
I seized my chance. “I’ve got to get home anyway. Gotta check on the stepdaughter.” I hurried past them, firmly telling myself I was relieved, happy, we were interrupted. There was absolutely nothing to be disappointed about. Gwyn had just saved me from saying … well, likely something I shouldn’t.
“I hope you’re not going to drive,” Daniel called to me.
“Of course not,” I said over my shoulder, although at that point, I didn’t know what I was going to do. All I knew for sure was that I couldn’t get out of there fast enough. Besides, after that encounter with Daniel, I was feeling pretty sober. Maybe I just needed some fresh air to finish clearing my head. If nothing else, I’d stand outside and wait for a cab.
Luckily, Daphne saved me. “You leaving?” She slid out the booth. “I’ll go with you. In fact, I can drive your car if you want.”
“Really? But don’t you have your own car?”
She shook her head. “Mia picked me up after work. My mom doesn’t like me leaving her home without the car unless I absolutely have to. As for drinking, I never have more than a glass.”
I couldn’t believe my good luck. I agreed before Daphne could change her mind, and started digging some money out of my wallet to pitch in for the tab before Mia waved it away.
“It’s our treat. We’re celebrating! You’re finally back where you belong.”
Where you belong. The words thudded sickly inside me. The woman’s voice in the bathroom—”Go back to New York. No one wants you here, anyway.” Chrissy’s blank eyes staring at me from the study. You know. The evil that was done.
Shaking my head to clear it, I opened my mouth to protest—to remind everyone that this wasn’t permanent, that I had every intention of selling the house and moving back to New York—but no words came out. Instead, I found myself fumbling with my wallet as I put it away, saying my goodbyes.
Daphne said she had to use the bathroom and told me she’d meet me outside. I quickly headed for the door.
Outside the air was fresh and cool, a welcome respite from the bar’s sweaty staleness. I took a deep breath, feeling my nervous system start to relax, and my overheated cheeks cool down.
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw a shadow detach itself from the wall, like a ghost rising from the dead. Oh God, it’s Mad Martha. I jumped back, my heart in my throat, even though my rational mind interjected immediately, assuring me there was no way it could be Mad Martha, or any ghost for that matter.
The shadow shambled forward, crouching, limping. Was it an animal? Instinctively, I took a few more steps backward. If it was an animal, it didn’t look well.
The shadow shuffled a little closer into the pool of light from the streetlamp, revealing a face peering out from a lump of mismatched clothes and scarves. I gasped. It was the homeless woman from the supermarket.
She saw me, her eyes like black holes in her sockets, and hissed. “You.”
I backed away. “What?? What do you want?”
She inched forward, greasy hair falling across her forehead. “You know, don’t you?”
You know. About the evil that’s been done.
My blood turned to ice. I couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe. She sounded exactly like Chrissy had, that night in the library.
She smiled, revealing gaping holes where teeth used to be. “Yes, you know, don’t you?”
I tried to catch my breath, but it felt like every organ in my body had frozen solid. Oh God, what’s happening to me? Am I having another breakdown? Another overdose? A part of me wanted to ask her, no scream at her, “What?? What do I know?” I wanted to shake her until the answer popped out of her mouth and I would …
“Okay I’m ready.” Daphne appeared beside me.
I blinked, turned my head toward Daphne, then looked back. The homeless woman was gone.
I jerked my head around. Where did she go? The street was empty, except for Daphne and me.
“Becca, are you okay?” Daphne was looking at me strangely.
“I’m … ah … I’m fine. Just, well, I think I had a little too much to drink,” I said weakly. A part of me wanted to tell her, wanted to ask her about the strange homeless woman, but what could I say that wouldn’t make me sound crazy?
I handed my keys over and pointed Daphne toward the car. As we walked, I looked back over my shoulder one more time. Was it my imagination, or was there a shadow by the wall again?
I gave myself a shake, and focused on getting into the car. I had to stop this thinking. I was letting my imagination get the best of me. All that was happening was a combination of too much wine and too many ghost stories.
Daphne talked lightly on the way home, mostly filling me in on some of the history of the gang since I last saw them. She kept everything light—nothing about Jessica or séances. I didn’t say much, content to let her talk.
Despite my protests, she pulled into my driveway and parked. The garage was still stuffed with boxes. “It’s a fast walk to my house,” she said. “I don’t mind.”
I was going to argue more. I was certainly sober enough to drive myself around the block, but I suddenly realized the house was ablaze with lights. It looked like every single light was on, in every room.
Why did Chrissy turn on all the lights? What was going on?
Daphne noticed it, too. “Well, it looks someone wanted to welcome you home.”
I mumbled an agreement, but something didn’t feel right. Back in New York, if Chrissy went to bed before we got home, she would turn everything off, leaving us to stumble around in the half-dark so we wouldn’t wake her.
Daphne hugged me, told me she’d call soon, and headed down the street. I watched her for a few moments before turning back to the house, just in time to see a curtain flutter.
Had I made a mistake? Was Chrissy more nervous about being left alone in that house than I had thought? Or worse, what if she HAD gone to bed, and sleepwalked again, and I wasn’t home to help? Oh God, what if she really hurt herself, and I wasn’t there? I hurried up to the front door, pulling my keys out with shaking hands. I would never forgive myself if something happened to her while I was out at a bar.
I finally got the door unlocked and flung the door open. “Chrissy,” I called, “Are you …”
My voice died in mid-sentence. Stefan was there. On the couch. Looking quite displeased. Next to him, Chrissy was curled up, smug as a cat full of cream, her hand possessively tucked around his arm, reminding me of how Gwyn had reached for Daniel earlier.
He fixed me with a careful, even stare. “Where,” he began, his voice dangerously soft, but each word was spoken with the sharp precision of a lawyer, “have you been?”
Chapter 11
My mouth went dry and I tried to swallow. “Out with some old friends,” I managed.
His gaze narrowed. “Where exactly?”
I shifted my balance from one foot to the other. A part of me was thinking how ridiculous his little inquisition was. I was a grown woman, and I certainly didn’t need permission from my husband to go out to a bar. But then the scene outside the bathroom with Daniel shot through my head, and guilt stabbed through me. “At a bar,” I muttered.
Stefan stood up and walked over to stand in front of the living room window. “Chrissy, go to bed. We can talk more in the morning.” Chrissy slid off the couch, gave me a secretive smile, and kissed her father on the cheek, before sashaying up the stairs.
He waited until we could hear the click of her door closing before turning to me. “You’re drunk.”
I
straightened my back. “I am not.”
He pointed to the window. “Then why did you let someone else drive you home?”
“I … ah,” I fell silent.
He took a step toward me. “What the hell has gotten into you, Rebecca? I come home early to surprise you, only to find you’ve left Chrissy all alone to run off to a bar to get drunk? You haven’t been in Redemption for a week! And what you’re supposed to be doing is getting us settled in.” He flung his arms around the living room. “What have you been doing with yourself all week?”
I gasped at him, wordless, my mouth falling open in shock. How could he so quickly dismiss my hours and hours of hard work on the house? I could feel tears prickle the back of my eyes. All of the love and care I had put into creating the perfect environment where we could reconnect again as a family … and he just shot it all down.
I sucked in my breath and managed to get my mouth working again. “You can’t see all the cleaning and organizing I did?” I squeaked, my voice as small as I felt.
“What I see is your aunt’s ... things all over the place. You were supposed to be boxing all of that up and unpacking our belongings. How are we supposed to live here with everything we own still in boxes? And, how are we supposed to sell the house with this …” he waved his hands in frustration. “This … mishmash everywhere? Do I have to do everything? I’m working my butt off trying to save the firm, and all I asked of you was to create a home for our family. It appears you can’t even do that.”
“That’s not fair,” I burst out, my voice finally working. “I was creating a home for us. Look at what I did. How can you not see it?”
He stared at me incredulously. “See what? Let’s talk about what I don’t see. I don’t see our furniture in this room. I don’t see our dishes in the kitchen cabinets. Nor, when I walked through the door, did I see YOU. YOU weren’t here. YOU were at a bar. How do you think it makes me feel when I move heaven and earth to sneak away for a weekend and you’re not even here? Do you have any idea how much is on my plate right now? The longer it takes me to get to the bottom of the embezzlement at the firm, the longer I’m away from you and Chrissy. And that’s just my time! Let’s not forget I just spent money we don’t have to see you, and you’re off at a bar getting drunk.”
It Began With a Lie: A gripping psychological thriller (Secrets of Redemption Book 1) Page 9
