Daphne looked bewildered. “But you can’t go. Legally, the cops won’t let you.”
“I know.”
“Well, what did they say?
“She seemed to ... accept it, I guess. But I also told her I’d call her in a few days, when everything will hopefully be cleared up.”
“So they don’t know about Gwyn.”
I shook my head. “And I’m dreading telling them.”
“Yeah, I would be, too. Unfortunately, I think your hands are tied.”
“I think you’re right.”
Daphne played with the stem of her wine glass. “Can I ask you something?”
“Sure.”
“Do you want to stay here? I mean, really stay here? If money wasn’t an issue, would you stay? Or go back to New York? Or somewhere else?”
Did I want to stay? I rarely considered that question, because it depressed me. It wasn’t my reality. My reality was making choices based on money.
But Daphne deserved an answer. A truthful answer.
“If money wasn’t an issue, I definitely wouldn’t go back to New York,” I said. “Honestly, I was never happy there. Ever. But I always felt like I had to be there. Would I stay here or go somewhere else, though?” I paused as I looked around the yard, taking in the quiet breeze gently playing over the colorful blooms and the sound of birds chirping, inhaling the scents of roses and lavender, and watching butterflies flit from flower to flower.
“This is my home,” I said. “This is where I belong.”
Daphne’s smile lit up her face, transforming her homey features, and in that moment, she was beautiful. “Then let’s see what we can do to keep you here.”
Chapter 24
“You’re running out of time.”
I was in the kitchen, but there was something wrong. There was no color. It was like being in the middle of a black-and-white picture. Actually, it wasn’t even black and white, but more of a pale, flat grey. It was as if all the brightness and hues had been drained from the room, leaving everything a dirty dishwater shade.
“You’re running out of time,” Aunt Charlie said again. She, too, was grey, her energy and vitality leached out of her. She was a pile of dry, dusty bones, covered in a brittle, ashen skin.
“Did you really have an affair with a married man?” I asked her.
“Not only are you running out of time, but you’re wasting the little time you have,” she said.
“I want an answer,” I said. “Did you have an affair with a married man? With Jonathan?”
Aunt Charlie pressed her lips tightly together, the movement causing her skin to flake off like powder. “Now is not the time.”
“Yes, it is,” I said. “I want to know the truth.”
“The truth isn’t going to help you, unless you find the jade,” she hissed. “ If you don’t find it, and find it fast, you’re going to lose everything.”
I could feel my stomach turn over. “How is finding a rock going to help my legal issues?”
“It’s not a rock,” Aunt Charlie said, her voice rising. More skin flaked off her face. I could see the gleam of her skull. “It’s a crystal.”
“Crystal, rock, whatever,” I said irritably. “How is that going to help me convince Detective Timmons I’m innocent?”
“Detective Timmons isn’t looking in the right place,” she said. “Find the jade; solve the crime.”
I studied her suspiciously. “Are you really trying to tell me that finding something of yours in your house will reveal Gwyn and Ellen’s murderer?”
Aunt Charlie’s face seemed to crumble, revealing even more of the bones beneath the thin, papery skin. “I did what I had to do,” she said. “I’m not proud of my choices. But I would do it again if I had to.”
“So, you would choose to sleep with a married man again?” I said disgustedly. “You would choose to break up his marriage again?”
Aunt Charlie let out a huff, causing more of her skin to disintegrate. Her face was now more skull than human. “Just find the jade, Becca. Then we can talk.”
“Seriously? You expect me to believe that?”
“Find the jade. I’ll tell you everything then.”
“Why don’t you tell me everything now?”
Aunt Charlie shook her head, her spine snapping and creaking. “First the jade. And don’t wait. You’re running out of time.”
I sighed loudly, exasperated. “I don’t believe you.”
“Have I ever lied to you?”
I stared at her. “All the time. You didn’t tell me about Stefan. Or CB.”
“I didn’t lie,” she said calmly. “You had to figure out the truth for yourself.”
“Just like I have to find the jade now?” I snapped back. “What, is there something else I’m going to suddenly ‘remember’ once I’ve found it?”
Aunt Charlie became very still. “No,” she said softly. “There’s nothing for you to remember. But you need proof.”
A cold breeze seemed to blow through the room. Goosebumps rose on my arms and back of my neck. “Proof?” I asked, my voice as quiet as hers.
“The legal system is built on proof,” she said. “That’s why you have to find the jade. Or the only proof that is found will point to your guilt.”
I swallowed hard. My lips and tongue were numb from the cold. “Where do I find this jade?”
“Where haven’t you looked?”
“Nowhere! I’ve been everywhere in this house.”
She chuckled, a wheezy, groaning type of noise. “If that were true, you would have found it by now.” She reached over, her hand a skeleton, the finger bones clenched into a fist, and touched my forearm. I jerked back, the cold so icy, it felt like I had been burned. “Look where you haven’t. That’s where it is.”
I opened my eyes. My room was filled with a pale-grey light, but unlike the dirty, lifeless grey in my dreams, it was pearly and shimmering, filled with hope and possibility.
Oscar stretched next to me, his dark-green eyes blinking. The color of jade.
God. Is that really what I was going to spend my day doing? Hunting for some rock?
I could almost hear Aunt Charlie’s voice correcting me—“Not a rock, a crystal.”
Fine. Whatever. It was still a waste of time—time I didn’t have. I needed to start calling attorneys. Plus, the people were coming to install the new house alarm, and I should maybe even think about hiring a private investigator. Every time I thought of Detective Timmons and his smug face, I couldn’t breathe. It was like a noose tightening around my neck.
I was running out of time. Aunt Charlie was right. I could feel it.
I also needed to call my mother and give her an update, as much as I dreaded that. And maybe I needed to do what Daphne suggested, and ask for a loan. Between the lawyer and the investigator, I was going to need some cash ...
Oscar purred deep in his chest as he rubbed his face against mine, his dark- green eyes staring at me.
Proof. Aunt Charlie said if I found the jade, I would find the proof I needed to clear myself.
I sat up, realizing my decision was made. Despite how ridiculous it sounded, I was going to spend the day looking for that jade.
And praying it really would deliver what Aunt Charlie had promised.
***
I dressed in my last clean pair of yoga pants, which I almost never wore because they were old and stained, and an equally old and stained tee shirt. I pulled my hair back in a tight ponytail. I had a feeling it was going to be a dirty, dusty day. I headed down to the kitchen to make a plan and a pot of coffee—not necessarily in that order.
Aunt Charlie said the jade was somewhere I hadn’t searched yet. I immediately thought of the many boxes I had shoved in the basement and garage. I wasn’t looking forward to digging through them, but I had alre
ady been through everything else. Other than those boxes, I couldn’t think of a single place I could have missed.
I decided to start with the basement, as most of the boxes in the garage were from New York, or contained things I had already gone through and determined to be trash. Even if there were a couple of things I missed in the garage, I knew the bulk of what I had yet to go through was stashed in the basement.
Well, it seemed that today was the day to face those boxes.
I put my coffee in a to-go cup with a lid, squared my shoulders, and headed down.
It didn’t take me long to remember why I had been avoiding this task. There was something about the basement that bothered me. Maybe it was the spiderwebs, maybe it was how dark it was even with all the lights on, maybe it was the damp, mildewy smell, maybe it was because I had never lived in a place with a basement before (as I grew up in high rises), or maybe it was a combination of all of those things … but being in Aunt Charlie’s basement always gave me the willies.
I SO didn’t want to be down there. Even just standing in the room made me feel creepy and disgusting. I could feel my skin aching to crawl off me and curl up in a corner whimpering.
Stop. I had to get ahold of myself. I was being ridiculous. It was only a basement.
I opened the first box, only to have a beetle scuttle out. I nearly threw in the towel right then and there, until it occurred to me that prison would be at least this nasty, and probably much worse. I wouldn’t have the option of scurrying away, back into my warm and comforting kitchen.
Gritting my teeth, I soldiered on.
Most of the stuff was just junk. Old, musty clothes faintly smelling of mold, water-stained books with bent spines, worn-out stuffed animals with missing eyes and stitches, cheap, discolored costume jewelry that at first filled me with excitement (maybe the jade was here!), but quickly faded upon realizing it was just crap. Most of it, like the box filled with old VHS tapes and a vacuum cleaner that looked older than me (it had to be broken, as the one upstairs wasn’t much newer, so why on earth would Aunt Charlie have kept it? Because she wanted the parts?), I piled in a corner for the trash. Some of it, like a collection of truly hideous, mismatched china, I put in a smaller pile to either donate or sell if, by the grace of God, it was actually worth anything. I placed boxes of things like Christmas decorations that appeared to be in fairly good shape in a different, even smaller pile, to go through at a later date.
Hours later, covered with dirt and grime and cobwebs and feeling quite discouraged, I paused to take a break and drink some of my coffee that had since grown quite cold. I had gotten through about half of the crap, yet had found no sign of anything even remotely resembling jade.
And even if I did find it buried somewhere, maybe in a box filled with ratty sheets and towels or something, how could it possibly help me now?
Was there any way I could speed up the process? The faster I could get through the boxes, the faster I could get out of the basement. And the faster I could try and figure out another place to look. Maybe I didn’t go through her dresser well enough, or her old files. Actually, that sounded more promising than digging through the rest of the dilapidated basement junk. Maybe I should just abandon my current search and go back upstairs ...
No, I was going to finish what I started. I was already disgusting and in need of a long, hot shower. I might as well finish.
I moved to a rather large pile of boxes leaning against the wall, intending to nudge them away from it so I could see if any of them were marked. Instead, the column of boxes was so surprisingly light that I ended up shoving it away from the wall further than expected, and in doing so, I knocked the bare lightbulb hanging from a chain in the ceiling. The light swung around, causing crazy shadows against the walls, and I froze.
Just like that, I was back in my dream with Ellen and Gwyn.
Surrounded by boxes and grey walls and floors, with a single bare lightbulb swinging wildly around me.
I sucked in my breath, putting a hand to my chest, and quickly searched the basement. Was I alone in the house? Had Mia and Chrissy left yet?
I wanted nothing more than to flee the basement and escape to the safety and comfort of the kitchen, but I was afraid if I did, I might never return.
As I stood there debating, a glint of green caught the corner of my eye. I quickly turned and found myself staring at that crack in the floor, the one I had discovered a few days ago.
What the …? Now, on top of everything else, it appeared I was hallucinating. There was nothing there except grey cement ...
The lightbulb swung back around, and there it was again—a flash of something green. It was definitely coming from the crack in the floor.
I got down on my hands and knees and tried to peer into it. Was there something there? It was hard to tell. Between the flickering light bulb and lack of light, I wasn’t sure.
What I needed was a flashlight. I stood up, brushing off my yoga pants, and headed toward the stairs.
I grabbed my coffee to refresh it and my cell phone, checking it as I climbed the stairs. I had to keep an eye on the clock as the alarm people were supposed to be arriving in the afternoon, but I still had some time.
After washing up at the laundry room sink and refreshing my coffee, I checked the house. Mia and Chrissy were both gone, and the house was locked up tight. Oscar was peacefully sleeping on the couch in a puddle of sunlight. I could feel the tension in my chest start to loosen.
No one was in the house. Oscar looked too peaceful for that to have happened.
I located a flashlight and headed back to the basement. I kneeled down, shining the light into the crack, and immediately saw something green buried in the cement, sparkling dully in the light.
Could that possibly be the jade Aunt Charlie was talking about? What was it doing in the basement floor?
I used one finger to gently trace the crack. It wasn’t wide enough for me to reach whatever was jammed inside. The only way I would be able to get it out would be to widen the crack, which would mean making it worse.
Was that smart to do?
On the other hand, what were my choices? Jail, or breaking my basement floor?
It was an easy choice.
I used my fingers to try and scrape away at the concrete, but I quickly realized it wouldn’t work. I was going to need some sort of tool—a crowbar or hammer or something.
Did Aunt Charlie even have any tools?
I shined the flashlight around the basement, seeing if there was anything that resembled a toolbox, but nothing looked promising.
Maybe the garage. People stored tools in garages, right?
I trekked back up the stairs and into the garage. After a lot of poking around, I finally unearthed a hammer and screwdriver.
Well, it was a start.
Back to the basement to see about prying open the crack. It didn’t take me long to realize I was getting nowhere fast.
I sat back on my heels and considered my options. Clearly, I needed something with more “umph,” like a jackhammer. That’s what construction workers used when they broke apart pavement. But where would I get one? And, even if I could find one and figure out how to use it, would I end up destroying the jade? And with it, the promised proof?
I needed more help. Maybe I needed to do an internet search, but wait ... the cops still had my computer. Maybe I needed to go talk to someone. Daniel? No, I needed to leave him out of it. He already had his hands full with everything else he was dealing with because of me.
Maybe I should go to a hardware store and see if I could talk to one of the employees. Plus, with that option, I could get the tools I needed right then and there.
Eager to get going, I grabbed my phone and my coffee and headed for the stairs, when I remembered I was still waiting for the techs from the alarm company to come. I should call and see when they were p
lanning to arrive. Then I could plan my trip to the hardware store.
I dialed the number and started to tell the perky voice who answered what I wanted when she interrupted me. “Oh, yes, Becca Kingsley. I meant to call you sooner, but it’s been a bit crazy here.”
This didn’t sound promising. I put the phone on speaker, frowning. “Call me? Is there a problem?”
“Well, we have to reschedule.”
“Reschedule? Why?” Oh no. I was starting to feel sick inside. I had really wanted the alarm installed today, so I could at least cross one thing off my long list of things to worry about. Plus, I was hoping it would help Mia sleep better at night.
“I don’t know why. You’re the one who called to cancel.”
“I didn’t call to cancel.” Now I was starting to feel the edges of panic slicing into my anxiety. What the hell was happening here?
I could hear papers rustling over the line. “Yes, you did. I have the record right here.”
“You can’t possibly, because I didn’t call.” Deep breaths, Becca. I didn’t want to alienate this woman. I still wanted that alarm system installed.
“Well, someone called,” she said. “Although now that I’m looking at my notes, it may not have been you.”
“When did this happen?”
“Looks like a couple of days ago. Did you want to reschedule?”
A couple of days ago? I ground my teeth together, trying to keep from screaming. “Yes, I’d to reschedule. Can they still come today?”
The voice went from perky to regretful. “No, I’m sorry. They’re on another job right now. But I have time next Wednesday.”
Wednesday? I had to wait until next Wednesday? “Nothing sooner?”
“Unfortunately, no.”
“Okay, then. But, back to whoever canceled. Can you tell me what he or she said? Or who he or she was?”
“There’s nothing specific like that in my notes,” she said. “It just says you had to cancel and would call to reschedule.”
“But it wasn’t me!”
“Well, whoever it was,” the perky voice amended. “Shall I schedule you for Wednesday?”
The Evil That Was Done (Secrets of Redemption Book 3) Page 21
