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

by Michele PW (Pariza Wacek)

  “Yes,” I said. “And, if anyone calls to cancel, could you call me at this number to confirm?”

  The perky voice agreed, although I sensed some trepidation. I didn’t completely blame her. It was a strange request.

  On the other hand, it was also pretty strange for someone other than me to have called. The only people who even knew we were getting an alarm system were Chrissy, Mia, and Daniel. Oh, and Daphne, too. But I couldn’t see any of them canceling. They all wanted it installed. Mia, in particular.

  Unless ... no. Even if Mia was somehow subconsciously involved with whatever was going on (courtesy of Mad Martha), why would she cancel the alarm system being installed? It made no sense.

  Well, there wasn’t anything I could do about it now. When Mia and Chrissy came home, I could talk to them and see if they could shed any light on what happened. I could also call Daniel as well, just to check and see if, for some unfathomable reason, he had called to cancel and didn’t think to tell me.

  But, right now I needed to focus on that crack in the basement. And that meant a trip to the hardware store.

  Chapter 25

  “A jackhammer is your best bet,” the older man said, chewing on a toothpick as he considered me with his pale, watery, blue eyes. His white, fluffy hair stuck straight up, resembling a cotton swab. “But I still think you’d be better off hiring someone to do it for you.”

  He wore the same red apron the other employees wore. The name on his name tag read “Ted,” and like most of the other employees, he looked old enough to have retired from a “real” job. Now, he could enjoy his “retirement job,” being paid to chat about tools and fixing things.

  I shifted from one foot to the other. I really didn’t want to hire anyone. Not only because I wasn’t completely sure what I was going to find, (so I didn’t want a witness), but also (and more importantly), because I didn’t want to wait. The clock was ticking. I could almost feel the hot, excited breath of Detective Timmons on the back of my neck, eager to find that missing piece, whatever it was, so he could finally arrest me.

  “I want to start the process,” I said. “See what’s going on.”

  “So, is the crack only in that corner?” he asked. “Or is your whole floor cracking?”

  “Just that corner,” I said, although in my head, I was trying to picture the whole basement floor. Was that the only place where it was cracking? Or was the whole floor falling apart?

  “I wonder what happened to cause it,” he mused. “It sounds like whoever put your floor in didn’t do a very good job.”

  “That’s why I want to dig it up. See what’s going on.”

  “Well, like I said, a jackhammer is the fastest. Although,” he made a point of looking at me up and down, “it’s not the easiest tool to handle. You could end up doing more damage than you intend.”

  “Are there other tools?”

  “A concrete saw,” he said immediately. “Or a hammer drill.”

  Those sounded promising. “What’s the difference?”

  “Here, I’ll show you.” He walked me over to a rack of power tools to explain. “The concrete saw,” he pointed at a contraption that resembled a chainsaw, “is designed to cut into the concrete. This,” he pointed to a device that was longer and skinnier, “is a hammer drill. It’s designed to drill holes in the concrete. But if you’re trying to break up the concrete so you can see what’s under the crack, the concrete saw is your best option. The hammer drill will take you a long time.”

  I didn’t particularly care for the price tag on the concrete saw, but at this point, what options did I have? If it did end up going nowhere and I was eventually arrested, a couple hundred dollars in the hardware store wouldn’t even be a blip on the radar next to the thousands and thousands my legal bills would amount to.

  And, if it worked, it would be a small price to pay to prove my innocence.

  Ted walked me through how to use the concrete saw and sold me a box of masks and eye protection. “It’s going to get really dusty,” he warned. “You definitely want to remove anything you don’t want covered in concrete dust before you start.”

  I nodded, hoping I would remember everything he was telling me.

  “Also,” he fished out a card from his vest pocket. “My nephew is a handy man. He does good work. You may want to give him a call when you’re ready for some help.” He winked at me.

  I took the card, grateful for the referral. Eventually, I would likely need help putting the basement back together.

  I paid for my purchases and carried them out to the car. As I slid into the driver’s seat, I realized I was starving. I had grabbed a couple of pieces of toast early that morning before heading down to the basement, and had skipped lunch. I decided to make a quick stop at the grocery store. Chrissy wouldn’t be home to cook that night, as she had plans with friends, and if I was going to start digging up the basement, I wasn’t going to have the time to cook dinner myself, either, which had been my original plan. Best to grab a couple of frozen meals I could just pop in the oven.

  I got myself a vanilla latte at the Starbucks inside the grocery store to help tide me over until I was able to make myself something a little more substantial for lunch before heading over to the frozen food section. Lasagna sounded good. Of course, anything would sound good right then. I tossed in the family-sized meal, along with some garlic bread. That would be more than enough for Mia, as well.

  “Fancy meeting you here again,” said a voice from behind me, startling me so much, I spilled a few drops of latte on my already gnarly shirt. I whirled around to see JD standing there with his cart.

  “You scared me,” I said.

  He gave me a sideways smile. “Sorry.” He gestured with his chin toward my cart. “What happened to your chef?”

  “Chef? I don’t have a ... oh, you mean my stepdaughter,” I said.

  “Yeah, doesn’t she cook for you anymore?” He opened the freezer and pulled out a few frozen meals. “Your cart is starting to look like mine.”

  “She just wants a break tonight,” I said, feeling reluctant to tell him she had other plans. How did he keep turning up like this?

  JD dropped the meals into his cart and looked up, directly into my eyes. “How are you doing?” He didn’t ask it in a conversational, small talk way. There was a seriousness, a directness, that made it clear he had at least some idea of what had happened to me that week.

  I shrugged, not wanting to get into it. “Fine.”

  He took a step closer. “No, really.”

  I turned back to the freezer, selecting another large family dinner—baked ziti. “I’m fine. Honestly.”

  “I’ve heard,” he said, his voice low. “I mean, from what I’ve heard, this week must have been hell for you.”

  For a moment, I was overwhelmed. Staring at the freezer, still holding the meal, it hit me that no one else had said that to me. No one else had actually acknowledged how I might be feeling. Not Mia. Not Daniel. Not even Daphne. Sure, they were all supportive, but no one had actually said those words to me.

  I blinked back a few tears, took a breath, plastered a smile on my face, and turned back to JD. “Yes, it’s been rough, but I’m getting through it.””

  He moved closer. “Is there anything I can do?”

  I dropped my meal into the cart without thinking. He was close enough that I could smell the spicy scent of his aftershave mixed with the fresh, herbal scent of his shampoo. Suddenly, I found myself wishing that it was Daniel standing in front of me, asking me how I was doing and how he could help. Was I destined to be cursed in relationships?

  “What’s wrong?” JD asked, his breath warming my cheek. I hadn’t realized how close he had moved to me. He lifted his hand and used one finger to gently push my hair behind my ear. It was difficult to breathe. “How can I help?”

  No, no, no. This couldn
’t be happening. I wanted to be with Daniel. Didn’t I?

  I took a step back, trying to clear my head, feeling strangely intoxicated. “Thanks, but there’s nothing you, well, really anyone, can do.” Unless you know how to cut into concrete, I thought. The sentence popped into my head, but I pressed my lips tightly together to prevent it from escaping my mouth.

  Being alone with him in my house would be a bad idea. A very bad idea.

  “I have to get going,” I said abruptly. I couldn’t allow myself to become distracted. I had a basement to get back to. Every moment I wasted here was a moment closer to Detective Timmons arresting me.

  He gave me a skeptical look. “Are you sure, Becca?” he asked softly.

  “Of course I’m sure,” I said. “I have to get home.”

  “I meant about helping you,” he said. “Even if it’s just by listening. I’m a good listener. And maybe if you talk about what’s going on, a solution will present itself.”

  Even as he spoke, I was shaking my head, taking a few steps backward to grab my cart. “Thanks for the offer, but I’m good. Truly. I’ll see you later.”

  I quickly turned away before he could answer, almost running into a heavy-set, older woman with black, obviously dyed, obviously permed, tightly curled hair. Her eyes, framed by black glasses, met mine, and she gave me a disapproving look, her lips pursed, the red lipstick bleeding into the wrinkles around her mouth. With a start, I realized I recognized her. She worked at Aunt May’s. I wondered if that meant she knew about Daniel and me. I wondered if she had seen JD standing so close, too close, to me. I wanted to protest, to tell her it wasn’t what it seemed.

  But that somehow made it sound even worse. JD had just touched my cheek. That was it. Why did I need to defend myself against it?

  I dropped my gaze and focused on getting to the checkout as fast as possible. I was being ridiculous. I had nothing to be ashamed of or embarrassed about. Daniel was the one I wanted. In a moment of weakness, and lord knows I deserved a moment of weakness with the amount of stress I was under, I let JD get too close to me.

  That’s all.

  Assuming I would be able to beat my current legal woes, Daniel and I could go back to dating (or whatever it was we were doing).

  Just as long as Daniel was still interested.

  Oh God, I definitely didn’t want to go down that rabbit hole. One thing at a time. Right then, all I needed to focus on was getting out of the store, hopefully without seeing anyone else I knew, and driving home for a quick lunch before diving back into my basement challenge.

  I could worry about Daniel’s long-term intentions later.

  The first part of my plan played out beautifully. I made it out of the store and into my car in record time. Thank goodness, at least that went right.

  In fact, maybe this was the perfect time to turn over a new leaf. Maybe, just maybe, it was time to start expecting things to work out in my life, instead of waiting for everything to crumble around me.

  Once home, I realized how late it was as I unpacked the car. Maybe rather than eating a very late lunch, I’d just pop the lasagna into the oven and have an early dinner. I could always grab a snack to tide me over.

  I ate a couple handful of almonds while I slid the lasagna into the oven, and then, I carried all my new tools into the basement.

  I unpacked the concrete saw and studied it. Hardware store Ted had walked me through exactly what to do. I decided to stop questioning myself. I could do this—I didn’t need anyone’s help.

  But, just in case I accidentally cut off a limb, I made sure my phone was close at hand.

  I was just about to turn the saw on when I remembered what Ted had said about concrete dust. I looked bewilderedly around the basement. I still had no idea what was in half of the boxes. Did I really want to take the time to sort through them first, or carry them all up the stairs? Oh, and maybe I should put my phone in a plastic bag to protect it. I definitely didn’t want it covered in concrete dust.

  I decided to drag just the Christmas box up the stairs, to keep it safe. I made sure Oscar was still sleeping on the couch (he wasn’t; he had moved to the chair), put my phone in a plastic bag, and shut the basement door firmly behind me before heading back down.

  I pushed everything as far back as possible from the crack before putting my mask and plastic eye gear on and kneeling on the floor, saw in hand. I had planned to start digging in the middle of the crack, just to see what would happen. I didn’t want to run the risk of destroying the jade before I tested my plan.

  Taking a deep breath, I flipped the switch on and got started.

  It was loud. Very loud. Painfully loud. And heavy. Clouds of dust rose around me as I worked. It was hard to see through the thick, grey dust, so I quickly switched off the saw to check out my progress.

  It worked. I had managed to saw through chunks of concrete, but I could tell I still had a long way to go before I could actually uncover anything. Steadying myself, I switched the saw back on and continued.

  My progress was slow, mostly because the saw was heavy and difficult to control. I didn’t want to accidentally destroy anything, so I paused a lot. Sweat trickled across my forehead, down my back, and under my arms.

  Finally, I switched the saw off and put it down. My arms and wrists ached, so I took a moment to work through the kinks while letting the dust settle. I wiped the sweat off my brow, which I immediately realized was a mistake. The sweat mixed with the concrete dust, forming a muddy paste on my forehead. Ugh. I wondered if I would ever be able to scrub it off. I could only imagine the disaster my hair must be.

  I knelt back on the floor and started sifting through the rubble. I noticed a lump under the crack. Actually, as I brushed more of the broken pieces of concrete aside, I realized there were a few lumps, long and thin, and parallel to each other. They seemed to come together and join at a vertical lump. My breath started quickening. Was this what I was looking for?

  I brushed more of the concrete aside as my initial excitement started to seep into something darker. No. It couldn’t be.

  It couldn’t be.

  I continued clearing the concrete away, focusing on my breathing and trying to push away the cold, tight knot forming in my chest.

  I brushed a few big chunks aside, and suddenly found myself staring directly into an eye socket.

  I had uncovered a skull.

  Chapter 26

  I screamed, falling backwards and crab walking away from the crack as fast as I could, until I slammed into something behind me. I barely registered the pain as I pushed myself against whatever it was, my hands over the mask across my mouth, struggling to keep myself from hyperventilating.

  I had to be wrong. I had to be wrong.

  There was no way there could be an actual body buried in my basement.

  No, it had to be something else. Something that only looked like a skeleton.

  Really? Just what could look like a skeleton, that isn’t a skeleton, a cold, calm voice deep inside me asked. What else could possibly look like a skull?

  I don’t know, I silently screamed back to the voice. But there has to be something!

  Maybe it’s a plastic skeleton—you know, like what you’d see in a doctor’s office, the cold, calm voice answered.

  Yes, yes. My mind seized it, full of hope. That must be what it is. A plastic skeleton.

  Buried in my basement.

  Oh God.

  Suddenly, I was distinctly aware of how quiet it was. How still. The only sound was my hash, frantic breathing. I was alone in the house. Alone in the basement.

  With a skeleton.

  Oh God. I had to get out of there. I clumsily lurched to my feet, my knees trembling so much, I nearly collapsed. I stumbled across the floor and toward the stairs, a part of me convinced I was no longer alone. I was sure there was something else in the basemen
t with me, watching me, just waiting for the right moment to leap out and grab me with a long, bony claw of a hand ...

  I tripped and fell hard on the stairs, the impact jarring my bones, nearly screaming again, sure something HAD seized my ankle so it could drag me into the depths of the basement, to toss me into the skeleton’s cement grave ...

  I scrambled up the stairs on all fours, too terrified to take the time to stand up. I could hear a little mewling noise and wondered where it was coming from … until I realized it was me.

  The basement door loomed at the top of the stairs, shut tightly. Oh God. Was it locked? Would I be able to open it? Why did I close it, anyway? I reached up to clutch the doorknob, sure it wouldn’t turn, and for a moment it didn’t—my sweaty palm slid right off. But I tightened my grip and, almost to my amazement, it opened easily. So easily, in fact, that I tumbled through, landing in a heap in the hallway. I rolled onto my side, kicking the door closed.

  I was safe.

  For a moment, I was motionless on the ground, the air rasping out of my lungs, my heart pounding.

  What just happened? Did I really just uncover a body? In my basement?

  Who buries bodies in concrete, anyway? Isn’t that like, a mob thing?

  No, it couldn’t be a body. It just couldn’t.

  Because if it was … who was it?

  And who put him or her there?

  The Jessica from my dream flashed through my mind. Where is my body?

  No, it couldn’t be Jessica. It just couldn’t.

  There had to be another explanation.

  I needed to call someone. Daniel. Yes, Daniel could help. He could look at ... whatever it was I had uncovered, and tell me for sure what it was.

  Yes. I closed my eyes, relief filling me. I could just picture the smirk on his face. “Honestly Becca, you really thought this was a body? No, if you look at it, you’ll see it’s clearly not.”

  That’s what I needed to do. Call Daniel.

  Except ... my phone was in the basement.