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

by Michele PW (Pariza Wacek)

  Why oh why couldn’t I have grabbed it before running up the stairs?

  And, for that matter, why did I ever think it was a good idea to get rid of the landline? If I hadn’t, I could be on my way to the kitchen, maybe even taking a moment to pour myself a cup of coffee while I dialed Daniel. Easy peasy.

  Instead …

  Oh God. Would this day of one bad decision after another ever end?

  I pushed myself up to a seated position, studying the closed door and pondering my options. I could sit right there until Mia came home, and have her call Daniel. I pictured her coming through the door, seeing me sitting there on the floor in front of the basement, covered with sweat and concrete dust, still wearing my eye and mouth masks, telling her what happened. “Well, I had an interesting day. I learned how to saw concrete. It’s actually easier than you might think. And, hey, you know that crack in the basement floor? Well, underneath it, it looks like there’s a body hidden. Fascinating, isn’t it? So how was your day?”

  Yeah, maybe not.

  No, I had to go back down to get my phone. Period.

  I slowly got myself to my feet and paused for a moment, before flinging the door open.

  Nothing. The stairs were empty. All the lights were still on.

  I tottered forward a few steps. Okay, there was nothing to it. I was going to go down the steps, get my phone, and come back up.

  Easy as that.

  Despite my pep talk, it was far from easy. I could feel myself sweating, nearly hyperventilating the deeper I went.

  When I got to the bottom, I peered around the corner. Everything looked precisely how I had left it. The concrete rubble. The saw tipped over on its side. The hole where I had dug.

  My phone? Where was my phone?

  After a few heart-stopping moments that took all of my self-control to not run screaming back up the stairs, convinced whatever it was in the floor had managed to slither over and take my phone, I finally found it, peeking out from behind the saw, still in its plastic bag.

  I was losing it.

  I hurried over, snatched it up, and immediately broke into a run back up the stairs.

  As soon as I was safe in the kitchen, I dialed Daniel’s number.

  He picked up on the first ring. “That was fast.”

  I blinked. “What was fast?”

  “You calling me. I didn’t think he would move that fast.”

  Oh, that didn’t sound good at all. In fact, if there wasn’t a corpse in my basement, I would likely be really worried. But, as it was, I seemed to have hit my panic limit. “Who’s ‘he’? What are you talking about?”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “I ...” I closed my eyes. I dug up something that looks like a skeleton in my basement, and I was hoping you could come here and tell me what it actually is?

  Instead, I said, “How soon can you get here?”

  “Why? What happened?”

  “I ... I found something.”

  “What did you find?”

  I glanced toward the basement door. “It’s difficult to explain. It’s easier if I showed you. How soon can you get here?”

  He paused. “On my way.”

  ***

  Daniel’s eyes widened when he saw me. “Jesus Becca, what happened to you?”

  I glanced down at myself. I had forgotten I was still covered in concrete dust. “I was digging in the basement.”

  “You were what?”

  “Digging in the basement.”

  “Wait.” Daniel shook his head vigorously. “How? Why? “

  I sighed, holding the door open wider so he could come in. “It’s a long story.”

  “I’m all ears.”

  I led him through the house and toward the basement. “It’s probably easier if I show you first,” I said.

  Daniel opened his mouth, then shut it. He nodded tightly at me as I opened the basement door.

  Somehow, it didn’t feel nearly as terrifying with Daniel next to me. I was so relieved, I convinced myself that he would surely tell me it wasn’t a skeleton, after all ...

  His mouth dropped open as soon as he got a look around. “Christ, you weren’t kidding about digging,” he said. “What is that, a concrete saw?” He walked over to take a closer look. “Charlie owned a concrete saw?”

  “Are you kidding? I bought it.”

  He turned to stare at me. “You bought it. You went out and bought equipment to saw into your basement floor? Why?”

  “I ...” It suddenly occurred to me I hadn’t thought any of this through. How was I going to answer that? Well, Daniel, I had a dream about Aunt Charlie telling me to find the jade. Oh crap. The jade. I had forgotten about it completely. Was it even in the floor, or had I just imagined the green flash of light?

  “Let me show you what I found,” I said instead. I gingerly crept my way over to the hole in the ground, gesturing for Daniel to look.

  He raised an eyebrow skeptically before moving to stand next to me. He peered into the hole. “Oh my God,” he gasped. “Why is there a skeleton in your basement?”

  My heart sunk. So low, it just about joined the skeleton in its concrete grave. “Are you sure it’s a skeleton?”

  “Well, I’m no expert, but that sure looks like a skeleton to me. Becca, we have to call the police. You have a dead body in your basement.”

  I gazed down sadly at the pile of bones, the empty eye socket, the ribs that were sticking up. “I was hoping maybe it was plastic.”

  “Plastic? You thought that was a plastic skeleton? Like a Halloween costume? That doesn’t even make sense.”

  “Well, a dead body doesn’t either,” I countered.

  “Who is it?”

  “I have no idea.”

  “Who put it there?”

  “I don’t know that either,” I said.

  Daniel ran his hand through his hair. “Christ, Becca. Why in God’s name were you digging up your basement, anyway? Aren’t you in enough trouble as it is?”

  “Well there was a crack,” I said.

  “A crack?”

  “In the floor.”

  “Okay,” he said, dragging out the word. “There was a crack in the floor.”

  “That’s why I was digging,” I said, trying to explain. “I was digging in the crack.”

  Daniel looked completely bewildered. “You understand you may be facing murder charges, right? While you’re starting a new home repair project?”

  “Well, Ted thought it was suspicious ...”

  “Ted? Who is Ted?”

  “He was the nice man at the hardware store who helped me buy the concrete saw.”

  “How does he know about the crack?”

  “I told him.”

  “When?”

  “When I went to buy the concrete saw.”

  “But ...” Daniel put both hands up by his forehead and started shaking his head. “How did you get the idea to start digging in the floor in the first place? That couldn’t have been Ted, right?”

  This wasn’t going well. But more than that, I was tired of the lies, the half-truths. As ridiculous as the truth sounded, it couldn’t sound more idiotic than me jumping into a DIY home improvement project at the worst possible time.

  “You’re not going to believe me,” I said.

  “Try me.”

  “I ... it was a dream.”

  “A dream?” Daniel turned away, shaking his head. “Becca, I need the truth.”

  “It was a dream about Charlie,” I said quickly, seeing how I was losing him. Hastily, my words tumbling over each other, I told him about how Aunt Charlie told me to look for the jade—that it would help prove my innocence.

  “Where is this jade?” he asked.

  “Here,” I said, getting on my hands and kne
es to brush off the dust and cement from the crack in the floor. For a moment, I started to panic, not seeing anything. “Honestly, it’s here,” I said. “I know I saw it.”

  Daniel got on his knees as well. “Here, blow the dust away,” he said. “Maybe it’s just covered.”

  We both gently blew until finally, a dull glimmer of green flashed in the basement light.

  Daniel sat back on his heels. “Well, I’ll be damned,” he said softly.

  “See,” I said, triumphantly. “I told you.”

  He let out a deep sigh, blowing the air out his cheeks. “Okay, so for argument’s sake, let’s say you really did get a message from Charlie to dig down here, to find the jade that would somehow help prove your innocence. How can finding a dead body possibly help you? Especially if it’s been down here for years. Other than a distraction, I don’t see what other good it could do you.”

  I gazed down at the empty eye sockets, my initial excitement melting into discouragement. “I don’t know either,” I said.

  “Did Charlie give you any indication of who this is? Or how he or she got here?”

  I shook my head.

  Daniel sighed, before getting to his feet and brushing off his jeans. “Okay, we better call the police. Why don’t you go upstairs? I’ll stay down here.” He looked around the basement.

  “What should I tell Detective Timmons?” I asked, feeling a little panicked. If Daniel was a tough sell, I didn’t even want to go there with Detective Timmons.

  His eyes narrowed. “What do you think? The truth.” He turned away, adding under his breath, “No matter how crazy it sounds.”

  Chapter 27

  Detective Timmons was not impressed.

  “So, you’re saying you decided to dig up your basement floor based on a dream?”

  We were sitting in my kitchen that smelled of coffee and burnt lasagna, trying to talk over the commotion in my basement. Police officers and technicians continually tromped past us, a steady, back-and-forth stream between the basement and front door. Below us, I could hear the sounds of demolition as my basement was broken to bits.

  “Based on seeing something embedded in the floor,” I corrected. “The dream just sent me to the basement.”

  I had intended to tell Detective Timmons the truth, mostly because I didn’t want to get Daniel in trouble. As I called the police, it had occurred to me that Daniel would likely be questioned as well, and I didn’t want him to have to lie for me.

  But, as I sat across from Detective Timmons at my kitchen table, a mug of untouched coffee in front of us both, his eyes simultaneously skeptical and irritated, I couldn’t do it. I just couldn’t get into the Aunt Charlie dreams.

  So, I came as close as I could. I told him I had dreamed there was something important in the basement, and when I went down there to poke around, I saw a flash of something green in a crack in the floor. That crack had always bothered me, and realizing there was something embedded in it got me curious … so I went to the hardware store, bought myself a concrete saw, and got to work.

  In essence, it WAS the truth. Just because I skipped some details about my dream didn’t mean it wasn’t true.

  Detective Timmons narrowed his eyes as he stared at me, drumming his pen on the table. “You honestly expect me to believe this ridiculous story. You, in the middle of a murder investigation, woke up this morning and decided it was a good idea to saw apart your basement floor?”

  “I found something, didn’t I?”

  He openly glared at me, putting both hands on the table, leaning forward in a menacing fashion. “If you think this is somehow going to distract me from investigating you, you have another think coming. As far as I’m concerned, this actually proves your guilt. Clearly, your whole family consists of criminals ...” He broke off as an approaching police officer bent down to say something in his ear. He waved him away impatiently before turning back to me. “Don’t think we’re through here,” he said, heaving himself out of the chair and following the officer downstairs, leaving his cup of coffee on the table.

  I took a drink out of mine, wishing it was wine. Somehow, though, I figured getting sloshed with a house full of police officers was not a terribly intelligent idea. Especially considering I hadn’t had dinner, and by the look of the sad remains of my lasagna sitting on the counter, I didn’t think I’d be eating anytime soon.

  I could hear a flurry of conversation and discussion by the front door, and suddenly, Mia burst into the kitchen. “Becca! What is going on? What is all of this about a body in the basement?”

  I took her by the arm and steered her toward the back door. “Let’s go outside and talk about it,” I said.

  “You need to stay here,” one of the officers said. He was young and good looking, with thick, black hair and big, puppy dog eyes. With a start, I realized it was Trevor—the officer who had helped move my desk up to The Studio and flirted with Chrissy.

  “We’re just going in the backyard,” I said.

  Trevor didn’t meet my eyes, instead shifting uncomfortably from one foot to the other. “Detective Timmons told me you need to stay here.”

  “I’m sure he just meant on the property,” I said. “Five minutes. We’ll be right out there.” I pointed out the window to the peaceful looking backyard.

  He didn’t look convinced. I let out a loud sigh. “Where am I going to go?” I asked. “This is my house. Where am I going to run?”

  Trevor pressed his lips together and gave me a short, curt nod. Before he could change his mind, I dragged Mia into the backyard.

  “What is going on?” she hissed. “And what is this about a body?”

  I glanced around to make sure we were alone and then quickly filled her in. I could see her eyes getting wider and wider the more I talked, and her face, already too pale from lack of sleep, seemed to get even whiter.

  “There’s a body in the basement? All this time?”

  “It appears that way.”

  Mia put her hands by her temple. “I can’t even ...” she broke off, backing away from me to pace around the yard. I watched her march between the daffodils and roses and brown-eyed susans, noting the contrast between them and the death and decay in that musty, dank basement. The sun was setting, and the dark-orange rays highlighted the already bright colors surrounding us.

  “Becca.” I turned to see Detective Timmons heading toward me, along with another officer. “A word?”

  I nodded and took a few steps toward him. A moment later, Mia joined me.

  Detective Timmons paused. “Who are you?”

  “Mia,” Mia said. “Mia Moto. I live here, too. I’m Becca’s roommate.”

  Detective Timmons nodded and flipped through his notebook. “You’re on my list of people to interview,” he said. “We need to set up a time.”

  Mia nodded. “I’ll call.”

  I swallowed hard. Even though I knew part of the investigation required the detective to interview my friends, it still felt weird listening to that conversation.

  “While the medical examiner will need to do more tests, his initial findings include that the body has been buried for approximately 30 years.”

  I swallowed again. Aunt Charlie was definitely living here 30 years ago. Which meant ...

  “Do you know who owned the house before you?”

  “My Aunt Charlie,” I said, my voice small. “I inherited it from her.”

  He nodded, like he already knew the answer. “So, she is deceased?”

  “Yes.”

  He made a note. “We’re going to need to ask you more questions, but they can wait until after we’ve had a chance to further examine the body.” He turned as if to go.

  “Is there anything more you can tell me?” I asked, my voice coming out in a rush. “Is it a male, a female, how old, anything?”

  Detective Timmons paused
before turning back and regarding me for a moment. “The medical examiner says it was man, probably late twenties or early thirties. No obvious cause of death by the initial examination, although what he did find is a lot of old fractures.”

  “Old fractures?” I asked.

  “Yes. At first glance, it seems this person suffered multiple broken bones when he was younger that later healed.”

  “What could have caused that?” Mia asked.

  “Well, again, we’ll know more when we get the bones to the lab, but maybe he was in a bad accident at some point. Perhaps a car accident. Or maybe he was heavily involved in sports.”

  “It’s also possible that it was something more deliberate,” the other man said. Detective Timmons shot him an unreadable look, but the man didn’t notice as he watched Mia closely. I glanced at her myself. Her lips were pressed together so tightly, they were white.

  “Deliberate how?” she asked.

  The other man shrugged. He appeared to be younger than Detective Timmons, and a lot less handsome with a long, horsey face and thinning brown hair that was already balding. “Abuse.”

  Mia swayed on her feet. “Oh my God,” she breathed. She pressed a hand to her chest.

  Detective Timmons gave her a sharp look. “What?”

  “I think I know who is in the basement.”

  “Who?” I asked.

  “Jonathan Decker.”

  Chapter 28

  “Why do you think it’s Jonathan?” Daniel asked.

  The cops had finally left, and the four of us, Daphne, Mia, Daniel, and I were all sitting around my kitchen table devouring baked ziti (I was so grateful I had thrown it in the cart after all) and garlic bread and drinking wine. Even Daniel had a glass. Chrissy was spending the night at a friend’s house.

  Darkness pressed in against us from the windows, so thick and heavy, the light above the table seemed a feeble talisman warding off the overwhelming blackness. But the dim light couldn’t hide the wreckage the police had left in their wake. Concrete dust and dirt had been trampled everywhere. I was going to need to spend some quality time with a vacuum, feather duster, and mop the next day. Yellow crime scene tape had been plastered across the basement door, although I wasn’t sure why, as it was clear the crime had been committed over thirty years ago. Maybe some overzealous cop had been bored.