The Evil That Was Done (Secrets of Redemption Book 3)

by Michele PW (Pariza Wacek)

  And I had completely forgotten about them.

  With a sinking feeling of foreboding, I walked over to the door that led to the garage and opened it. How could he have even known, I argued with myself. There was no way he would have had time to search the whole house. And who would ever think to look in a garage for magazines?

  I flipped on the lights. Stacks of boxes greeted me, reminding me that I still had way too much stuff from New York here that I needed to get rid of. God, between the stacks in the basement and the stacks in the garage, I was practically drowning in junk.

  I wove my way through the boxes to the back of the garage. There, exactly where I had left them, were the magazines.

  I knelt in front of one and started rifling through.

  It didn’t take me long.

  The third magazine in the stack was riddled with the edges of ripped pages. Pages that, once I lined them up, had clearly cut out words.

  ***

  “So, how bad is it?” Mia asked sympathetically.

  Mia, Chrissy, and I were sitting outside soaking up the fading sun. Mia and I with glasses of wine, Chrissy with lemonade, and platters of hamburgers and seasoned vegetables positioned next to the grill. Oscar was curled up in the chair next to me, keeping a close eye on the hamburgers. The air was filled with the sweet scents of roses and lavender.

  I was exhausted. Emotionally, mentally, and physically. I was too tired to even pick up my wine glass, so I simply spun it around on the table in front of me, my fingers red and raw from frantically scrubbing all day. The house smelled of lemon and bleach and was so clean it practically sparkled, but it still felt dirty to me.

  I wondered if that would ever change.

  In between cleaning, I had called Detective Timmons. Our conversation was less than ideal—it was clear he didn’t believe that I had just “found” the phone. At the last minute, I decided not to mention anything about the magazines. I was in enough trouble as it was, and I couldn’t bring myself to hand over any more ammunition he could use against me.

  And now, I was about to have a very difficult conversation with two of my closest friends. Would this nightmare ever end?

  Chrissy’s eyes darted between us, her ponytail whipping from side to side. “What’s going on?” she asked. “Mia, what do you know? Does this have anything to do with why we have new locks on the doors?”

  I had been so careful not to tell Chrissy anything. I didn’t want her to worry. She was still a teenager, after all, who had already had a hell of a time over the past couple of months. She certainly didn’t need my troubles dumped on her, too. When I had handed her the new key and explained the new security features, I had been purposefully vague, telling her it was impossible to know who Aunt Charlie had given a key too, and how really, we should have had the locks changed the day we moved in. It wasn’t a priority, then, because we hadn’t planned on staying long. But, better late than never, right?

  Of course, all that had done was make everything I had to do now even more difficult.

  “It’s bad,” I said to Mia. To Chrissy, whose mouth was already open to protest and declare how unfair everything is in her normal “teenagey” way, I said, “Give me a sec. I’ll tell you everything. And yes, I probably should have told you sooner, but I had no idea how messed up things were about to get.”

  I caught Chrissy up as best as I could, watching her expression change. I knew I had been right, and she was miffed that I had kept it from her. Then I told both of them about the phone and the magazines.

  As I spoke, Mia’s face grew paler and paler. Chrissy continued to look displeased.

  When I finished, Mia reached over to refill her empty glass. “So, you’re saying he was in the house.” Her voice was flat.

  “Wait. What?” Chrissy said, looking bewildered.

  I sighed. “I don’t see any other explanation. Although this clearly happened before we changed the locks, so I doubt he could get in now.”

  “What do you mean, ‘he was in the house’?” Chrissy asked. “Who?”

  “The stalker,” Mia said, gulping down more wine.

  Chrissy’s eyes went wide. “You mean, the guy who led you to Ellen’s body in the trunk?”

  “That’s the one,” I said. I had to remind myself that this was a confusing story, and with Chrissy coming in at the tail end, it would feel even more so.

  “What was he doing in the house?” Chrissy’s voice became more agitated.

  “We don’t know,” Mia said. “That’s the problem.”

  “How could you not tell me?” Chrissy was close to yelling.

  “Okay, so look,” I said. “The locks are changed. There are only four keys, one for each of us and one extra I hid inside the house. No one else could possibly have one. We have new security features on the doors. The alarm system should be installed the day after tomorrow. I feel safe. However,” I paused to take a deep breath, “Daniel thinks we should move into a hotel for a few days. Just to be on the even safer side.”

  “What are you going to do?” Chrissy asked pointedly.

  “I’m staying here,” I said. “I’m not letting this guy, whoever he is, win. But you need to decide for yourself what you want to do.”

  “If you’re staying, I’m staying,” Chrissy said.

  Mia took another drink of her wine, her gaze faraway and focused on the backyard. I watched her for a moment, noting how lost she seemed in her own world.

  “Mia,” I said gently. “It’s fine if you want to stay somewhere else for a day or two. Until this gets sorted out. I understand.”

  She jerked, like I had startled her, and her wine sloshed out of her glass and onto the table. “Oh, clumsy me,” she said, mopping the puddle with her napkin. “I didn’t mean to do that.”

  “Are you okay?” Chrissy asked, her brow furrowed. “You didn’t seem yourself at work today either.”

  “Yeah, I’m fine,” she said, scrubbing the area with a little more intensity than necessary. “I’m just tired.”

  “Maybe you should move out for a few days,” I said. “Could you bunk with a friend? That might help you get a good night’s sleep.”

  “No,” Mia sighed, reaching over to fill up her wine. “I love living here. I love all this space. Having my own room and an office to study in. It’s the perfect setup for me, especially after living in that cramped apartment for so long. You’re right. The locks are changed. We’re safe. I’m just being silly.”

  “You’re not being silly,” I said. “Daniel would tell you how smart you are to leave for a few days.”

  She half-smiled. “Daniel worries like an old woman sometimes. And, whoever this guy is, he’s a bully. I certainly don’t want to let the bully win.”

  “Hear, hear,” Chrissy said, raising her lemonade glass. “To not letting bullies win.”

  I smiled and raised my own glass, but inside, I wondered if this was a good idea. It was one thing to risk my own neck, but was it really fair to them if I let them stay? Should I insist they leave?

  Was I being selfish, because secretly, I was scared to be alone in my home?

  Chapter 19

  “Time for your medicine.”

  I blinked, trying to focus, but the room was too dark. Was I back in the hospital? My nostrils were filled with that dank, mildewy odor.

  There was a click, and a single lightbulb lit the room. Nurse Ellen was there, her nursing outfit wrinkled and stained with blood and dirt. Her hair was also matted with blood, and it ran down the side of her face. She leaned against the concrete wall, leering at me, and holding up a huge, sharp needle.

  I tried to take a step back and smacked into something behind me. Ellen’s smirk widened. “It’s worse if you struggle.”

  “I don’t want any medicine,” I said.

  “Then how do you expect to get better?” she asked, wav
ing her arms and hitting the exposed lightbulb so it swung widely on its chain. We were surrounded by stacks of boxes, everywhere. It felt familiar to me, somehow. Where were we?

  “Why do you even bother, Ellen?” a new voice asked. “She clearly doesn’t want to get better.”

  The lightbulb swung to the right, revealing Gwyn leaning against the wall as well. Unlike Ellen, she was perfectly together, her white-blonde hair styled in her usual spiky, asymmetrical style, and her makeup carefully applied. She was examining something in her hands, but I couldn’t see what it was.

  “What are you doing here?” I asked Gwyn.

  She glanced up, eyes narrowing, lips peeled back in a sneer. “What do you think? I’m here because of you.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “This is all your fault,” Gwyn snarled. “Why couldn’t you have stayed in New York where you belonged?”

  “Not just you,” Ellen added. “Your whole family.”

  “All you’ve done is bring misery to this town,” Gwyn said. “Why don’t you do everyone a favor and leave?”

  “After you take your medicine, of course,” Ellen growled, her smile twisting.

  I tried to back up again, but whatever was behind me prevented me from moving.

  “Oh, stop being such a baby,” Ellen said, stepping toward me. “This won’t hurt a bit.”

  “That’s because it will hurt a lot,” Gwyn added, and they both broke into manic laughter.

  I tried to swallow, but my throat was dry. “I didn’t mean for any of this to happen. Especially not to either of you,” I said, trying to look at both of them at once.

  “Doesn’t matter what you meant,” Ellen said. “All that matters is the evil that was done.”

  A cold shadow fell over us. Gwyn shifted, her expression uneasy as she eyed Ellen. “I think we should go,” she said.

  Ellen took another step toward me. “Not until she takes her medicine.”

  A cold draft of air blew through the room, smelling of death and decay and rot, causing the lightbulb to dance crazily on the end of its chain. Gwyn pressed herself against the wall, dropping whatever was in her hand. I noticed a flash of green flame before hearing the sharp crack of it hitting the floor. “Ellen,” Gwyn said, her voice more urgent. “We need to go.”

  Ellen stuck her tongue out at me and waggled it. Her face was completely distorted, like that of an insane, twisted clown. “She needs her medicine.”

  “We need to go.”

  “In a minute.”

  “Ellen,” Gwyn’s voice was high, panicked. The wind whipped around us, sounding more like a scream. “He’s found us.”

  That got Ellen’s attention. Her expression turned uncertain. “He can’t be worse,” she said.

  “He is.” Gwyn’s voice was flat.

  Ellen continued to stand there, wavering, holding the needle aloft. A drop of the glistening liquid sparkled at the tip, like a diamond.

  “Ellen? Did you hear me?”

  Just like that, Ellen’s face twisted again, and the manic expression returned. “We can go right after she takes her medicine.” She darted toward me, so fast I couldn’t react other than to gasp, and plunged the needle into my left arm. White, sharp pain seared my muscle, forcing a scream from my lips ...

  I found myself in bed, thrashing around, the nails of my right hand digging into my left bicep. I unclenched my hand, shaking it out to get the blood flow back into it. My left arm throbbed uncomfortably.

  Curled up on the pillow next to me, Oscar watched me, his green eyes bemused. I wondered how I managed not to knock him off the bed with all the flailing around.

  I untangled myself from the sheets and blankets and got out of bed. It was still the middle of the night, the sky dark.

  New moon. The time for new beginnings.

  Or endings.

  I shivered, running my hands over my bare arms. I could still feel the scrapes on my left bicep.

  After a moment, I forced myself to turn away from the window. I realized I was scanning the yard, searching the inky blackness for any figures.

  There’s no one out there, I told myself. And even if there was, it didn’t matter, because the house was locked up tight. I had to stop this train of thought before I panicked.

  I took a deep breath and decided to head down to the kitchen for a cup of tea. I knew I wouldn’t be getting any more sleep after that nightmare. I could still see Ellen’s maniacal grin as she lunged for me. Not to mention the fact that I didn’t like how Gwyn was there at all.

  Was she dead, too?

  No, I would have heard something. Daniel would have texted me. Or Detective Timmons would have called. Or something.

  Maybe I should check my phone while getting that cup of tea to help me relax.

  I opened my bedroom door and tiptoed out, avoiding the squeaks in the floor. The last thing I wanted was to disturb Mia or Chrissy, especially with footsteps like Mia had been hearing.

  Chrissy’s door was shut tight. I breathed a sigh of relief as I passed it. I hadn’t even realized I was holding my breath, wondering if my bad dream meant that I’d find her sleepwalking again. But ever since she had moved into my old bedroom, her sleep had been deep, peaceful, and uninterrupted.

  As relieved as I was, I found myself suspiciously eying Mia’s room—the room Chrissy had slept in before.

  And CB, before her.

  The room Mad Martha killed Nellie in all those years ago.

  The door was slightly open, and even though it really wasn’t my business, I leaned forward to take a quick peek inside.

  It was empty.

  I quickly turned to check the bathroom, but it was empty, too.

  Mia couldn’t be sleepwalking. Could she?

  I hurried down the steps, telling myself she probably was having trouble sleeping again and was just making herself a cup of tea, just like I was about to do.

  I found her standing motionless in the center of the family room. I froze in the doorway, staring at her.

  Her face was in shadow, but everything about her, from the stance of her body to where she stood on the floor, was exactly like I had found Chrissy every time she sleepwalked.

  I took a step forward, wondering if I should talk to her or just take her by the arm and gently lead her back to bed when she suddenly turned toward me. “Oh,” she said, putting her hand to her heart. “You startled me.”

  “Sorry,” I said, relieved. “So, you’re not sleepwalking.”

  “No.” She let out a short bark of laugher. “Why would you think that?”

  I laughed a little as well. “I used to find Chrissy here in the middle of the night. But she really was sleepwalking. Want some tea?”

  “Sure.”

  I headed to the kitchen with Mia close behind. “You can’t sleep?” I asked, turning the stove on to start the water boiling.

  “No. I mean, I was sleeping, but something woke me, and I couldn’t fall back asleep.”

  I pulled a couple of mugs out of the cabinet. “Did you hear footsteps again?”

  She shook her head, rubbing her face. Her hair was matted with sweat and stuck up on one side. “No. At least I don’t think so.” She sighed heavily. “I had a bad dream.”

  I dug in the cupboards, finding some lavender and lemongrass for tea. The herbs were old, from Aunt Charlie’s store, but I wanted to see how they did before selling any of them. “Want to talk about it?”

  “Not really,” she said, trying to smile. “I ... I would rather not think about it.”

  “I get it,” I said, assembling the tea. “I had a bad dream, too.”

  “That’s why you’re awake?”

  I nodded.

  We were both silent as I finished getting the tea ready and poured hot water in both mugs. I slid one over to her, cupping
my hands around mine.

  “You know, you don’t have to stay,” I said quietly.

  “What, you don’t want me now?” She tried to say it jokingly, but it fell a little flat.

  I smiled slightly. “Of course I do. I feel a lot safer with you here, too. But I don’t think it’s fair to you. Actually, I think I’m being selfish letting you stay here.”

  “You don’t think it’s safe?”

  I raised my hands, palms up. “I have no idea if it’s safe. Daniel checked the house, and we changed the locks, so I think we’re safe. But it seems pretty clear that I’m being stalked or harassed or something by someone who at the very least is involved with murder, and at worst, is an actual killer. How else would he know where Ellen’s body was? So, this IS serious.”

  Mia frowned into her tea. “I don’t want to leave you alone here.”

  “And I don’t want you to put my safety above yours,” I said. “I’m a big girl. I can take care of myself.” Even as I said it, I wondered if it was true. It certainly felt like I had done a pretty crappy job of taking care of myself up until now.

  Maybe it was about time I started.

  Mia took a sip. “Hey, this is pretty good, actually.”

  “That’s a relief. I would hate to sell garbage.”

  Mia laughed, more normal sounding. “Look, I meant what I said earlier,” she said. “I like it here. I really don’t want to leave. I feel like I have a good setup for when I start school.”

  “And it will still be here in a few days or even weeks,” I said. “It’s not like I’m going to rent the room out from under you. If you would be more comfortable finding somewhere else to stay for now, I’m really okay with that.”

  Mia paused, frowning slightly as she stared into her tea. “It’s more than that,” she said softly. “Even though it doesn’t make any sense, I feel safe here. A part of me feels like I shouldn’t. I know you’re right, and I really ought to move out, at least temporarily. But ...” She shrugged. “That doesn’t change how I feel.”

  “Yeah, I can understand that,” I said.

  She shot me a quick, grateful look. “You can?”

  I nodded. “Yeah, I’ve felt that myself. That this is where I belong.”