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

by Michele PW (Pariza Wacek)

  “Try me,” he said. “Besides, I was thinking about your dreams, and they may not be as outrageous as you think.”

  “What, you mean Aunt Charlie’s ghost is visiting me?”

  “Well, she might be,” he said. “I’m not ruling that out. But it also could be something Charlie said to you years ago that you’re just remembering now. Or maybe something you witnessed or overheard. Your subconscious may be recalling these bits and pieces of information that meant nothing to you as a child, but they do now as things fall into place.”

  I mulled that over. “Maybe,” I said. “That might be the case with some of the things I’ve dreamed, sure. But this last one? I think I would have remembered if she had ever mentioned a body buried in the basement.”

  “You didn’t dream about finding a body in the basement,” he corrected. “You dreamed about finding the jade. Totally different. She could have easily said something to you about the jade before, but you didn’t pay any attention to it until now.”

  “That’s true,” I said. “But last night, she confirmed it was Jonathan in the basement.”

  “Well, that’s also really the only thing that would make sense,” Daniel said. “Did she say anything else? Like why he’s in her basement?”

  I looked away, through the kitchen window, watching a butterfly land on a marigold and stretch its wings. “She did.”

  “What did she say?”

  Was I really going to tell him? Did I have any other options at this point? God, I hoped I wasn’t making a mistake.

  “She said she killed him,” I said finally. “Because he killed Jesse.”

  Daniel’s eyes widened. “What?”

  “She said he was turning into a serial killer and it was somehow her fault, which I don’t completely understand, and to keep him from killing again, she killed him herself and buried him in the basement.”

  Daniel continued to stare at me. “I’m not even sure what to say.”

  “I know. It’s crazy.”

  “But ... why would he kill Jesse? They were best friends.”

  “I don’t know. But Aunt Charlie also claimed there was proof here, somewhere. And I needed to find it, and fast.”

  Daniel looked puzzled. “Proof? What proof could there be after all these years?”

  “She didn’t say.”

  “I mean ...” Daniel said slowly, as if he was thinking aloud, “I suppose it’s possible she had something with both Jonathan’s and Jesse’s prints on it … like the murder weapon. But even if that existed and forensics could somehow prove that Jonathan did kill Jesse, what does that have to do with you? I mean, don’t get me wrong, it would be great to solve that case and give Louise some closure, but there would still be huge questions. And even if all of those questions were answered, how could any of it help you now?”

  “I don’t know,” I said. “It doesn’t make sense to me either. But as I don’t have a clue where to start investigating either Gwyn’s or Ellen’s murders, I might as well see if I can locate this ‘evidence.’”

  Daniel frowned. I could tell he was still struggling to piece together this new information. “Unless ...” he paused.

  “Unless what?”

  He gave a quick shake of his head. “Just ... a thought. I need to do more research before I say anything. Did you tell Mia about the dream? What does she think?”

  I gave him an exasperated look. “You can’t try and distract me like that. What were you thinking?”

  He grinned a little sheepishly. “It’s something that Louise said, actually.”

  “What?”

  “About Jesse having a secret girlfriend.”

  “You heard that?”

  “Yeah. So bear with me here. I know Louise has always blamed Charlie, and then you, for the tragedies in her family. But she’s always been pretty clear about her feelings. Not like she’s tried to hide them, you know? So why now? Why would she cook up this crazy, complicated scheme to get rid of you now? What if it’s NOT her? What if this secret girlfriend is somehow behind your setup?”

  I thought about his reasoning. It made sense, in a sort of weird way. “But all of this happened so long ago,” I said slowly. “Wouldn’t you think this secret girlfriend would have gotten over it by now?” I asked. “I mean, I get that Louise wouldn’t have, because Jesse was her brother, but a secret girlfriend? This was all over thirty years ago.”

  “Ok, maybe not the secret girlfriend. Maybe it was someone else who really liked Jesse. He was pretty popular.” Daniel leaned forward, his eyes lighting up as he became more animated. “Think about it, Becca. If someone is setting you up as revenge for Charlie doing something to Jesse, then if you can prove his death wasn’t Charlie’s fault, then maybe that’s also how we smoke out the real suspect.”

  “I guess I should find that evidence,” I said.

  “And I need to poke around and see what I can dig up about this secret girlfriend, and any other significant relationships of Jesse’s,” Daniel said, taking a long sip of coffee. “Now is a good time to ask more questions, with everyone buzzing about finding Jonathan.”

  “We definitely have our work cut out for us today,” I agreed.

  He sipped his coffee, studying my face. “I’ll probably spend some time at Aunt May’s today,” he said casually. A little too casually. “It’s a good place for gossip.”

  “Okay,” I said, not sure what he was getting at.

  “I’ll check on Mia as well,” he said. “See how she’s holding up.”

  I nodded, studying the top of my coffee. I wondered if this was the beginning of the end of my relationship with Mia.

  “Try not to worry,” he said quietly. “She’ll come around. She just needs a little time. It IS pretty shocking to find out you were living in a house with a corpse. And not just a corpse, but a murder victim.”

  “Whose murderer was someone she had hung out with as a child,” I added.

  Daniel gave me a sideways smile. “She’s not the only one trying to wrap her head around Charlie being a murderer,” he said.

  “I get it,” I said. “I can’t believe it either.”

  We sat there for a moment in silence. I looked around the kitchen, noticing how the sun lit up the clean, spacious room, the bright sunflower accents, the red teapot patiently waiting on the stove. It was just how Aunt Charlie had it. I could almost see her bustle in, asking Daniel if he wanted any breakfast as she made tea.

  I blinked back tears. How could I both miss her and be afraid of her? How could I wish she was still alive, while wondering about my dubious judgement?

  “It’s hard to believe she could kill someone,” Daniel said softly.

  “And not just anyone, but her own lover,” I said.

  Daniel shook his head. “I know. Which is why it does feel like there would have to be some sort of reason, something, that was so horrifying, it would justify murder.”

  “Like Jonathan killing Jesse?”

  “Yeah. Exactly like that.”

  I put my coffee cup down. “That sounds like my cue to get started.”

  Daniel put his coffee cup down as well. “Mine too.”

  I stood up, feeling awkward and shy. The quiet of the house pressed against me, and I was reminded all over again that we were alone.

  “Thanks for stopping by,” I said, wiping my suddenly sweaty hands on my shorts. “And for helping me with Louise.”

  His eyes lingered on mine. “Anytime,” he said. He cleared his throat. “It’s a little ... awkward, for me right now,” he said.

  I waved my hand, trying to lighten the mood. “You don’t have to ...”

  “I want to,” he said, interrupting me, taking a step closer. “Becca, I believe you,” he said. “But I’m walking a tight rope here. I don’t want to lose my job.”

  “I don’t want you to
lose your job either,” I said, glancing up and into his dark-blue eyes. He was much closer than I had thought, and I shivered. He reached for my hand, sending shock waves through my arm.

  “As soon as we get all of this behind us, I think it’s time we make things … more official,” he said, bringing my hand up to his mouth. His breath was warm on my knuckles, and I could feel it shoot through me.

  “My divorce still isn’t official,” I said, feeling a little lightheaded.

  “I don’t care anymore,” he whispered and brushed his lips against my fingers. I thought my heart might stop. “I’m tired of our relationship always coming second to whatever craziness is happening. I want a chance to explore what this is between us.”

  “I do too,” I said, putting one hand on the back of the chair to keep myself from dissolving into a puddle on the floor.

  He released my hand (reluctantly, I thought), and took a step back. “I better go now,” he said. “We both have a lot to do and not a lot of time to do it. I’m not sure where Detective Timmons is in the investigation, but I think we have to assume the worst.”

  Mentioning Detective Timmons’ name was like a bucket of cold water to the face. “Yeah, that evidence isn’t going to find itself,” I sighed, rubbing my hands against my pants again.

  Daniel gave me a sideways smile and shoved his hands in his pockets. “I’ve got my own marching orders as well. Keep me updated?”

  “Only if you do, too.” I held up my hand. “Pinky promise.”

  His face softened and his grin looked more natural as he linked his pinky with mine. “Promise.”

  Chapter 31

  I had absolutely no idea where to even begin looking, so I decided the best strategy would be to start at the bottom and work my way up. Assume nothing, I told myself. It was entirely possible I had come across the evidence at some other point in the past and simply overlooked it.

  Not terribly probable, but possible.

  I squared my shoulders and headed for the basement.

  It was a total mess. A film of grey dust covered everything. I poked half-heartedly at a box and quickly realized that, not only would I need a mask to keep myself from constantly coughing, but it was going to take me hours longer to dust things off just so I could get a good look at everything.

  Maybe I would leave the basement for last. Hopefully, the evidence wasn’t down there. Then I wouldn’t need to waste a bunch of extra time dealing with the dust.

  I was about to go back upstairs when the hole in the concrete caught my eye. I hadn’t taken a look yet at what the cops had done, and I was curious.

  It was a pretty big hole.

  I sighed. Clearly, it was going to take some doing to fix it. On the other hand, it did look like only one body had been buried there, despite Louise’s claims to the contrary.

  I rubbed my face. One more thing to deal with. God, it was never-ending. Although at least this was one thing I couldn’t do anything about right that second. I was pretty sure the cops would want to finish their investigation before I started pouring new concrete.

  I turned to go, my gaze falling upon a dull, green stone lying in a corner behind one of the boxes. Surprised, I immediately wondered if it was the jade. I picked it up, wiping off the grey dust with a corner of my shirt. Yes, it appeared to be.

  What was it doing here? I would have thought the police would have taken it with them along with the body. Could they have missed it?

  I turned it around in my hands, studying it, feeling the smooth, cool, polished surface. It was shaped more like a triangle—like an arrowhead with a surprisingly sharp point on one end. I’d have to make sure I didn’t cut myself.

  I heard a door slam upstairs, and I jumped. Was someone home?

  Quickly, I headed to the stairs, slipping the stone into my back pocket and pulling my cell phone out just in case. I clicked on Daniel’s number, so all I would need to do was tap once to place the call.

  I hurried up the stairs, straining my ears to see if there were any other footsteps, but all was quiet.

  When I got to the top, I checked the backdoor first, but it was shut and locked. I went through the kitchen to the front door and found that it too was firmly closed and locked. I took a moment to search the downstairs and scan the upstairs, but all was quiet and still.

  Had I imagined hearing the slam? Had something fallen down, maybe?

  I searched the downstairs a second time, but nothing seemed out of place. Oscar was sleeping on a pillow in the sun. He looked up lazily at me as I passed.

  What could I have possibly heard?

  Well, whatever it was, it didn’t seem important anymore. What I really needed to focus on was searching for that evidence.

  I tucked my phone back in my pocket and took a quick coffee break. Standing by the counter, I focused on relaxing my nerves. I couldn’t help but listen for strange noises, too, before picking up my search again downstairs. I meticulously checked everything—every nook and cranny—even in places that were clearly too small to hide anything.

  Nothing on the first floor. (Or at least nothing obvious.)

  Nothing on the second.

  Where on earth could Aunt Charlie have hidden it?

  Other than the boxes covered with concrete dust in the basement and Mia’s and Chrissy’s rooms (which I was planning on asking for permission to search that night), all that was left was The Studio.

  Actually, it wasn’t even the whole Studio, just one part of it. It was the area I’d dubbed “the painting corner.”

  Despite buying a whole bunch of new art supplies, I still hadn’t taken the time to go through my old paintings—nervous about what I would find. Maybe I wasn’t as good as I remembered. Maybe it was all was just a silly pipe dream. Maybe I needed to focus on something else, such as the healing business or getting a job. Maybe the painting would only ever amount to a hobby.

  Although ... would that be so bad? It would certainly take the pressure off, if I didn’t have to worry about making money with my painting.

  Maybe that was the true message of my dream. Maybe I was taking it too literally and there WAS no “evidence.” Maybe what I needed to do was finally take a good, hard look at my old artwork, so I could finally make a decision one way or another about how I was going to support myself financially.

  Yes, I fully realized that, if I was charged—or worse, convicted—the decision would be out of my hands. But, for now at least, maybe it was time to decide for myself.

  Was I staying? Or going?

  Would I try and figure out a way to pay my legal fees (if there were any) on my own, maybe with a mortgage on the house? Or some other way? Or would I return to my parents, hat in hand, and accept their financial help that would definitely include some very tight strings?

  It was time for me to stop waffling and make a decision. My constant spinning around and non-decision was making me sick.

  I was tired of living in this state of waiting: waiting for Detective Timmons to either arrest me or not ... waiting to see if my stalker would reappear ... waiting for Stefan to grant my divorce ... waiting to see if having a business would be viable in this town ... waiting to see if anyone would hire me or if I would have to go back to New York.

  I was done waiting for something or someone else to take the action that determined my future. My future was mine. I was a grown woman who was perfectly capable of making her own decisions.

  The first step was reviewing my old artwork. The second, which I would do today, was deciding once and for all what I was going to do with my life.

  And then, I was going to stick to it. No matter what else happened.

  Firmly, I strode over to the paintings, jerked the drop cloth off the canvases, and immediately started coughing. I hadn’t expected so much dust.

  After I collected myself, I started flipping through the paintings
.

  They ... weren’t terrible. I could see flaws, and frankly, some were better than others. But, the more I saw, the more hopeful I felt.

  I could work with it. Maybe I would need a teacher and some classes, but there was definitely something here. A spark. Something I could build on.

  I heard a creak on the stairs and jumped. Was someone else in the house after all? Where could he have been hiding? I had searched everywhere. Nervously, I wiped my hands on my shorts and looked around for a weapon. I spotted a small knife I used to cut canvases and snatched it up, licking my dry lips.

  More creaking on the stairs. Someone was definitely there. I twisted my head around, frantically scrambling for my phone in my pocket.

  “Hello,” a voice called out, and I slumped over. It was Chrissy.

  She poked her head in. “Oh hey. There you are.”

  “I didn’t realize you were home,” I said.

  She took a step into The Studio. “I just got in, but I’m not staying. I have to go to work. So, is it true? What they found in the basement?”

  As usual, I was a little taken aback at the speed of which gossip traveled in this town. At the same time, I inwardly cursed myself. I had meant to meet Chrissy downstairs when she got home, so I could tell her before she saw it for herself, but I had been distracted by everything else going on.

  “Unfortunately, yes,” I said. “There was a body in the basement.”

  Chrissy looked suitably impressed. “Wow. Aunt Charlie must have been something.”

  That was an understatement. “It’s not clear she was behind it,” I said, feeling a little lame even as I said it.

  Chrissy gave me a “yeah right” look, the way only teenagers could. “Sure, someone else did it, and she somehow missed a bunch of concrete being poured in her basement.”

  “She may have hired the work out,” I said. “Maybe she didn’t supervise it the way she should have. But yeah, I get that it’s probably a long shot.”

  “Is it true you were the one digging around in the basement when the body was found?” Chrissy asked.

  I sighed. “Yes, that was me.”