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

by Michele PW (Pariza Wacek)

  “Things changed,” she said. “Things have been set in motion. The truth needs to come out. It’s the only way to save you.”

  “I don’t understand,” I said. “How can a thirty-year-old murder have anything to do with my being set up for two murders now? How can anything that you did then save me now?”

  “When you find the evidence, it will all make sense,” Aunt Charlie said. “It will all be clear. You just have to find it.” Aunt Charlie leaned across the table, her eyes suddenly clear and sharp. “And you must find it fast. You’re in terrible danger, Becca. The only thing that can protect you is finding the evidence. That needs to be your only focus. Promise me.”

  I swallowed, forcing myself to breathe through the tight, cold, band of fear slowly constricting my chest. “I’m going to jail, aren’t I?”

  Aunt Charlie’s eyes sharpened even more. “Jail is the least of your problems,” she hissed. “If you don’t find that evidence, you may find yourself joining me over here.”

  I tried to breathe in deeply, but couldn’t. The air turned into icy daggers, cutting into the soft, unprotected folds of my lungs. “My life is in danger?”

  “Think, Becca,” Aunt Charlie rasped. She leaned in even closer, her eyes boring into mine. Her pupils seemed to shift, to transform from circular to vertical slits, reminding me of a snake, coiled and about to strike. “You have a stalker. A stalker who has murdered not one but two women. How ‘safe’ do you think you are?”

  Oh God. I couldn’t breathe; I couldn’t think. Aunt Charlie’s inhuman, predator eyes grew larger and larger until I felt like I was drowning in them. I was gasping, trying desperately to breathe, but nothing was getting into my lungs. I felt like I was suffocating in a sea of fear, tossed about in those strange eyes ...

  I awoke in bed, thrashing desperately about, still struggling to breathe. The sheet and bedspread had somehow wound themselves around my chest. I tore wildly at them, trying to free myself, and ended up tumbling out of bed and onto the floor.

  Fortunately, the fall somehow loosened my bonds, and I was finally able to breathe. I’m not sure how long I lay there, sucking in long, sweet lungfuls of oxygen. The room was hot and humid, and my skin glistened with sweat.

  Finally, I calmed down enough to think. And I had a lot to think about.

  Was it possible that my dream was right? That Aunt Charlie killed Jonathan because he killed Jesse? And what about this so-called “evidence”?

  You’re in terrible danger, Becca.

  I shivered, despite the heat of the room. Was Aunt Charlie right?

  Was I in danger?

  I sat up, pulling the sweaty sheets off my body. The sun wasn’t quite up yet, but the night had transformed into the soft, pearly grey that meant it was just about to rise. The birds were chirping and singing.

  Oscar hopped off the bed, purring and rubbing against me. Breakfast time. I was so sweaty that some of his fur stuck to my skin. I stroked his ears, his soft neck before pulling myself to my feet.

  Coffee first. Actually, clean myself up first, then coffee, then try and figure out where on earth to search for evidence.

  God, couldn’t Aunt Charlie make anything easy for me?

  Chapter 30

  If I were evidence, where would I hide?

  I sat at the kitchen table, head buried in my hands, a cup from my second pot of coffee in front of me. Mia had just left for work. At least, I assumed she had gone to work. She had breezed into the kitchen, muttering something about being late, gulped down coffee and toast, and breezed out. When I asked her how she had slept, she said “fine,” but her eyes never met mine.

  I needed to get to the bottom of all of this. For all our sakes.

  I couldn’t even fathom where to begin my search for the elusive evidence Aunt Charlie directed me to find. I had already been everywhere in the house. Unless, oh God, could it be in one of the many boxes in the basement? One of the many boxes I didn’t get through, now covered in concrete dust? I looked at the yellow crime scene tape and shuddered. If that was the case, whatever it was, was probably ruined.

  I wished Aunt Charlie had given me some clues, at least, as to what I was looking for. How big, how small … whether concrete dust could destroy it.

  I reached for my coffee and my phone rang. My heart sped up. Who on earth was calling me so early? It couldn’t be good news. I reached for my phone. It was Daniel.

  “Everything okay?”

  “As okay as can be expected,” I answered.

  “How is Mia?”

  My eyes flickered to the front door. “Hard to say,” I said.

  “Is she there?”

  “No, she left for work.”

  “How did she sleep?”

  “She said ‘fine,’ but I don’t know.” I sighed. “For what it’s worth, I didn’t hear any footsteps last night.”

  “What about dreams?” His voice was cautious.

  I played with my coffee cup. “Dreams?”

  “About Charlie.”

  I was silent. Should I tell him? Did I want to tell anyone? A part of me had been a tiny bit relieved that Mia hadn’t wanted to talk that morning. I wasn’t sure if I wanted to say anything about what Aunt Charlie had revealed to me last night.

  Of course, it was a dream. Just because I dreamed it didn’t make it real.

  But ... all my other Aunt Charlie dreams had come true. Why should this one be any different?

  “You did,” Daniel said, correctly interpreting my silence. “What did she say?”

  “I ... it sounds crazy,” I confessed.

  “Crazier than searching for a jade stone and finding it in a basement, leading to the discovery of a dead body?”

  “Well, maybe not crazier than that,” I said. “But ...”

  Someone knocked at the front door, causing me to jump. Actually, it was more of a loud pounding.

  “What was that?” Daniel asked.

  “Someone is at the door,” I said.

  “At this hour?”

  “It’s probably Chrissy,” I said, getting up. “She probably forgot her key. Let me call you back.”

  “No,” he said loudly. “Keep talking to me. Go see who it is.”

  More knocking. Well, pounding. “I’m coming,” I yelled. “Hold your horses.” Chrissy wasn’t typically so impatient.

  “This doesn’t feel right,” Daniel muttered.

  I shivered, suddenly finding it difficult to breathe. The house felt so empty. I was so alone.

  You’re in terrible danger, Becca.

  Whoever was at the door knocked hard again. I sidled up to the door and put my eye to the peephole.

  It was a woman. She was familiar, but I couldn’t immediately place her … that is, until she lifted her face to the peephole. Her blue eyes were full of hatred.

  Louise.

  I took a step back, my breath catching in my throat as she yelled from the other side of the door. “Becca, I know you’re in there. Open up.” She started pounding on the door. “Open this door!”

  “Who is it?” Daniel asked.

  “It’s Louise,” I said faintly. “She’s pretty upset.”

  Daniel swore under his breath. “I’m calling the police,” he said. “Don’t open the door.”

  “I just want to talk,” Louise yelled. “You can at least give me that courtesy.”

  “Hold on,” I said to Daniel. “Louise,” I yelled back. “I don’t want any trouble.”

  “Let me in,” she yelled. “I just want to talk.”

  “We can talk through the door,” I said. “What do you want?”

  “Are you really going to do that to me? I know it was Jonathan in your basement. Was Jesse down there too?”

  Oh God. I was starting to feel sick. It was my dream all over again. “Jesse wasn’t there,” I ye
lled through the door. “And we don’t know it’s Jonathan for sure.”

  “Of course it’s Jonathan,” she yelled, banging on the door. “Who else would it be? He probably figured out that Charlie killed Jesse, and when he threatened to expose her, she killed him too. Let me in! I need to search the basement.”

  “The police are on their way,” Daniel said. “And so am I.”

  “Louise, I can’t let you in,” I yelled. “The police are still investigating. I’m sure once they know more, they’ll tell you.”

  I waited for her to protest, to pound on my door some more, but there was silence. I held my breath, daring to hope. Did she leave? Was something finally going my way?

  “What’s going on over there?” Daniel asked. I could hear the engine of his car starting.

  I peered through the keyhole, hoping against hope it would be empty, but no. She was still standing there on my porch, her hands covering her face as her shoulders heaved.

  Was she ... crying?

  “I ... I’m not sure,” I said quietly to Daniel. Through the closed door, I said, “Louise?”

  Now that I was closer, I could hear what sounded like muffled sobs coming from the other side. “You don’t understand,” she choked out. “Do you have any idea what it’s like to not know what happened to your brother? I miss him every day.”

  “Oh Louise,” I said, feeling my heart crack. “Look, I’m sure the police ...”

  “The police have never taken Jesse’s disappearance seriously,” she interrupted. “They always insisted he left because we fought. But I know better. He had a girlfriend. Did you know that? He wouldn’t have left her.”

  “No, I didn’t know that,” I said, unclear where this was going. “Who was she?”

  “He would never tell me her name, but I know he had one.” She sniffled into her hands. “I know I can’t go down in the basement,” she said humbly. “I’ll go home. But do you think I could have a glass of water first?”

  Was this a trick to get me to open the door? She seemed sincere, and it was clear she was suffering. And my family was at least partly to blame for everything that had happened to her. Guilt, thick and heavy, clogged the back of my throat. I coughed. “Give me a second. I’ll bring it to you,” I said after clearing my throat.

  “What’s going on?” Daniel hissed.

  “Louise is crying,” I said, heading to the kitchen. “I’m bringing her some water.”

  “I don’t think you should open the door,” he said. “The police will be there soon and I’m close.”

  “I’ll just reach out and hand her the glass,” I said, filling it from the tap. “What is she going to do, shove her way in? She’s an old, sad woman who has lost her brother and daughter, and my family has certainly had a hand in her tragedy. The least I can do is give her some water.”

  “Becca,” Daniel yelled, but I ignored him. I put the phone down so I could unlock the door.

  “Here you go,” I started to say as Louise dropped her hands from her face and smiled at me.

  It was a cruel smile, and there was no trace of tears.

  Before I could react, she slammed her body against the door. I fell over, dropping the glass. I could hear it shatter.

  “Louise,” I said from the floor as she stepped over me.

  “You’re as dumb as your aunt was,” she snapped. “Where is the basement?”

  I scrambled to my feet. “I’m not dumb enough to break into a house with cops on their way.”

  Her face twisted in disbelief. “You didn’t call the cops.”

  I shrugged. “You really want to risk it? This is breaking and entering and trespassing. And don’t think I won’t press charges.”

  She glared at me before turning to tromp toward the kitchen. “No one is going to believe a liar and a murderer like you. Jesse is in that basement, and I’m going to prove it.”

  “Louise, stop,” I said, running after her. “Don’t go down there.” The last thing I wanted was for her to start tearing through those boxes, potentially finding Aunt Charlie’s evidence before I did.

  “Why? You don’t want me to prove your aunt killed two people?”

  “Jesse isn’t down there,” I said. “And it’s all a mess. You’re just going to make things worse for yourself. Go home.”

  “Screw you,” she snarled, reaching the basement door and tearing through the tape. I grabbed her to pull her away, but she was stronger than she looked, and we struggled.

  “Louise, stop,” said a deep male voice behind me. My body sagged with relief. Daniel.

  Louise’s face, however, twisted into an expression of disgust. “Oh. Of course she was talking about you. Her lap dog. I thought maybe she meant the real cops were on their way.”

  Daniel’s face didn’t change, but I could feel his body stiffen. “Louise, you don’t want to do this.”

  She squared her shoulders to face him. “How do you know what I want to do?” she snapped. “What do you know about anything? You and your cop friends. Ignoring me all these years. What did I tell you about Charlie?” She shook her fist in his face. “I told you she was a bad apple, and no one believed me.”

  “Back up is coming,” I said, as the sound of sirens tore through the house.

  She glared at me, but I could already see the fight draining out of her. “What is it with you Kingsley women anyway? Men seem to lose their heads around you.”

  “Are you going to come quietly, or do I need to restrain you?” Daniel asked.

  She gave him one last dirty look before striding past him, head held high. We trailed after her as she marched through the house and out the door. “I’m leaving,” she said to the two cops who were coming up the yard.

  “Do you want to press charges?” One of the cops asked me as the other one blocked her path.

  “Oh. come on Jeffrey,” she snapped. “I’ve known you since you were in diapers. Are you really going to stand here blocking my way?”

  “Ma’am?” the other one questioned me.

  I bit my lip. Louise threw me a defiant look over her shoulder, but I could also see fear lingering just beneath the surface.

  “No, I don’t want to press charges,” I said quietly.

  Louise’s expression transformed to triumphant, but there was a bit of relief as well. Along with, dare I say, a dash of shame. Maybe it was finally sinking in.

  “Are you going to step aside?” she snapped at the officer.

  He gave her one last hard look before moving to the right. She marched past him and headed to her car.

  “Are you sure you’re okay?” the officer asked me.

  I nodded. “She really didn’t do anything, so yeah, I’m fine. Thanks for getting here as quickly as you did.”

  “That’s what we’re here for,” he said, and glanced pointedly at Daniel.

  “I’ll be right in,” Daniel said to me. I nodded and went back into the house.

  Feeling like I needed to do something with my hands, I started making a fresh pot of coffee. I was feeling on edge and out of sorts—like I was missing something.

  Like I was running out of time.

  “Coffee smells great,” Daniel said from behind me. I jumped, nearly dropping one of the mugs I had brought out.

  “Hey, I didn’t mean to scare you,” he said.

  “No, it’s fine. It’s just been a rough few days,” I said, running my fingers through my uncombed hair. It suddenly occurred to me that, while I wasn’t wearing my normal yoga pants, what I had on wasn’t much better—old, faded jean shorts paired with an oversized tee shirt. And Daniel and I were alone in the house.

  I shot him an awkward smile while I filled both our mugs.

  “I cleaned up your porch,” he said as I handed him his cup.

  He must have seen the puzzled look I gave him, because he added, “Th
e broken glass.”

  “Oh, yeah. I dropped it when Louise forced her way in.” I blew on my cup to cool my coffee, not meeting his gaze.

  “Maybe next time you won’t open the door,” he said.

  “We can only hope,” I said.

  He shook his head. “When someone shows up at your house this early in the morning yelling to get in, that’s a pretty good indication to keep the door firmly closed.”

  “Duly noted,” I said.

  “Also,” he hesitated. “It may not have been a bad thing to press charges.”

  I looked at him, surprised. “Why?”

  “Well, it may have stopped her from doing something like this in the future.”

  “Oh Daniel,” I sighed, sitting heavily down at the kitchen table. “Do you think that matters?”

  He sat down as well. “What do you mean?”

  “This is all going to come to a head one way or another very soon,” I said. “Chances are I’m going to be arrested. If I am, she’ll stay away, because she won’t want to damage the case against me.”

  He raised an eyebrow. “You’re giving up?”

  “I’m not giving up. I’m just trying to be realistic. I suspect the only way I won’t be arrested is if I can prove beyond a shadow of a doubt that I didn’t do it. I didn’t kill Gwyn, or Ellen, or anyone else, for that matter. In which case, the real killer would likely be arrested. But, since Detective Timmons isn’t looking at anyone else other than me as a suspect, that’s likely not going to happen. So, until I can figure out how finding Jonathan in my basement is going to prove my innocence, Louise is the least of my concerns.”

  “Well, that’s true about Louise.” He took a sip of coffee, his eyes never leaving mine. “How can I help?”

  I could feel the tears forming in my eyes, and I quickly blinked to keep them from falling. He was still on my side. Until he said it, I didn’t realize how alone I had felt.

  “I’m not sure,” I said.

  “Did you have another dream? About Charlie?”

  I looked away. “I did.”

  “So?” He looked at me expectantly.

  “I don’t know,” I said. “It just sounds so ... ridiculous.”