Secrets of Redemption Box Set

by Michele Pariza Wacek

  “Line for the men’s room?” I asked.

  His scowl deepened. “How did you meet Brittany?”

  I gave him a confused look. “What?”

  “You heard me. How did you meet Brittany?”

  “She dropped Chrissy off.”

  His eyes widened. “She dropped Chrissy off? Where?”

  I shifted uncomfortably. “At the house.”

  Daniel groaned. “What? Why did she do that?”

  “Well, how else was Chrissy supposed to get there?”

  He ran his hand roughly through his hair. “I meant, why are you inviting Chrissy to hang out at the house with you? Did you already forget what she did to you?”

  Was I doomed to repeat all my conversations? “Daniel, she’s sixteen and she doesn’t have anyone.”

  “That doesn’t mean YOU need to step in.”

  “But if not me, then who?”

  Daniel pressed his lips together, glaring at me. “Was CB with you at least? So that you weren’t alone with her?”

  I dropped my gaze. “Ah ...”

  Daniel stared up at the ceiling. “Christ.”

  I found myself starting to get angry. “Look, you of all people should be okay with this. If it wasn’t for her, I wouldn’t be standing here right now. She saved me.”

  “Yes, I agree, someone should help her. But I also think it’s a bad idea for it to be you.”

  “That’s all well and good, but no one else is stepping up.”

  Daniel blew the air out of his mouth in a huff. “Fine. If you want to make stupid decisions, it’s your life. Speaking of which, why is CB here?”

  “For the same reason everyone else is, I would imagine. He wanted a few drinks with friends.”

  Daniel rolled his eyes and stared at the ceiling. “Why is he in Redemption? Is he moving here, too?”

  I frowned. “No, he’s just visiting. What’s the big deal?”

  “How long is he staying?”

  I lifted my hands up. “I don’t know. You’d have to ask him.”

  “He didn’t tell you?”

  I looked at him in exasperation. “You know how CB is. He has his own schedule. He’ll stay until he’s ready to go. Where is all this coming from?”

  “There you two are.” Gwyn rounded the corner, a bright smiled fixed on her face. “Becca, we all thought you had fallen in.”

  I took a step back as Gwyn wrapped a hand possessively around Daniel’s arm. Something seemed off with her hand, but I couldn’t put my finger on it. “I was just answering a few questions.”

  “Oh?” Gwyn shook Daniel’s arm playfully, her smile growing wider. Daniel was looking at the ground. “Is she under arrest or something?” On the surface, her voice sounded playful, but there was a definite edge underneath.

  Daniel straightened. “I just wanted to clear a few things up.”

  Gwyn nodded. “Ah. Glad that’s done.”

  I took another step back. “I’m going to take off. See you around.” I took another quick glance at Gwyn’s hand before swiftly turning and heading back to the table.

  And then it hit me—her hand was bare. She wasn’t wearing her engagement ring.

  But ... that didn’t make any sense. Why would they show up together if they weren’t engaged? And, why would she be acting so possessive if they had broken up?

  There was probably some other perfectly reasonable explanation. Like the ring needed to be resized or something. That was all.

  I collected CB from the table, stopping him just before he ordered another drink, and bundled him into the car. As I half-listened to CB chattering on about some gossip, my mind went back to the conversation with Daniel.

  Why would he ask about CB moving here? Was it just that he never cared for him? Or was there something I didn’t know?

  Chapter 5

  I sipped my morning coffee, enjoying the stillness of the house.

  CB had just left.

  “I told Marguerite to get a second opinion after that butcher of a surgeon mucked up her latest nip and tuck, but nooooo. Unless I’m there, holding her hand and going with her, nothing goes right.” He rolled his eyes dramatically. Marguerite was his mother, but he always called her by her first name. “You know I wouldn’t leave you unless it was an absolute emergency.”

  I hugged him. “I appreciate you coming.”

  CB had stayed for nearly a week, which, quite frankly, was longer than I had expected. I had mixed feelings about him leaving. Yes, I had enjoyed the company and yes, the house seemed a lot emptier without him. But, as much as I adored him, he was also exhausting. An extrovert who suffers from insomnia, he was always up late, and that kept me up way past my bedtime entertaining him every night.

  I drank more coffee, suppressing a yawn. I was very much looking forward to getting back to my routine, including an earlier bedtime. As if CB hadn’t wreaked enough havoc on my sleep, I had also had more than my share of nightmares this week. Hopefully, everything will all settle down with him gone.

  The phone rang, startling me as it cut through the stillness and interrupted my thoughts. I reached for it, hoping it wasn’t CB in a panic because he forgot something, which would mean my dropping everything to bring whatever it was to the airport.

  “Is my tea done?” The voice on the other line barked at me.

  I blinked. “Excuse me?”

  “My tea. Is it done yet? It was supposed to be done by now. You know I need it.” The voice sounded familiar, although there was a note of desperation in it that raised the hair on the back of my neck. Who was it? And what was she talking about?

  “Uh ... “

  “You better not tell me it’s not done yet.” The voice interrupted, sounding even more desperate. “I need that tea. You young people. What DO you do with yourself all day? This never would have happened with Charlie.”

  My mind clicked. “Is this Pat?”

  “Of course it is! Who else do you think is calling you about tea?”

  “Um ...”

  “When is it going to be done?”

  “Um ...” Had I promised her I was making it? I didn’t think I had. In fact, I thought I had told her the opposite—that I hadn’t decided if I was going to start up Aunt Charlie’s business again. I did vaguely recall thinking I could maybe spend some time with Aunt Charlie’s files and see if I could figure it out, but then CB showed up, and the whole exchange had gone completely out of my head. “I had an unexpected houseguest. Plus, you know I’m not set up for making teas,” I said, hoping to walk the line between giving her an acceptable excuse and letting her know, again, that I hadn’t even decided if it was something I was going to do at all.

  She wasn’t buying it. “Of course you’re making teas! What else are you doing with your time? Your guest is gone, right? No more of this lollygagging around! I told you I need my tea. I can’t wait much longer. This is an emergency. You better have it no later than the end of the week.” There was a click.

  I replaced the receiver. Well, I guess getting back into my routine this week was going to include figuring out how to make Pat’s tea. On the plus side, that would be one way to decide if I wanted to start up my aunt’s business again. On the negative side, if I decided I hated it, I was going to have to figure out some way to tell Pat that this was a one-time deal.

  The conversation kept bouncing around in my head as I sipped my coffee. I didn’t really like the way Pat sounded. Almost frantic. Was she having a medical problem? Something she thought the tea would cure? Oh, dear God, please don’t let that be the case. Maybe bringing her tea would give me an excuse to see her and find out exactly what was going on.

  Besides, she did ask a good question. What was I doing with my time? Sure, I had the garden and all the household duties, along with my own healing and processing (which took a lot more time tha
n I ever dreamed it might). But I still wasn’t painting, nor had I figured out what I was going to do to earn an income yet, which meant I really did have plenty of time on my hands. I might as well use it to make Pat’s tea and see what was going on with her.

  There was a knock at the front door. “Hello,” I heard Daphne call out through the open window. “You guys up? I come bearing gifts.”

  “It’s open, come on in,” I yelled back. I waited until I saw her head poke in the kitchen before adding, “It’s just me.”

  “CB left?” Daphne asked, depositing a Tupperware box in the middle of table. “Is there coffee?”

  “Silly question,” I said, leaning over to peer into the Tupperware.

  “Homemade cinnamon rolls,” Daphne said as she poked around in the kitchen gathering plates, forks, and a mug for her coffee. “Just out of the oven.”

  “Wow. What’s the occasion?”

  Daphne handed me a plate and fork and settled herself in a chair. “Mom had a rough night. Finally gave up trying to sleep and decided to bake instead.”

  “Baking does cure a lot of ailments,” I said, helping myself to a warm cinnamon roll. They smelled heavenly. “Especially when it’s homemade cinnamon rolls.”

  Daphne smiled over the coffee cup, but the smile didn’t cover up the strain in her face or the black circles under her eyes.

  “How much sleep have you been getting?” I asked.

  Daphne waved her hand dismissively. “I get enough.”

  “That’s not an answer.”

  She reached out to break off a piece of the roll. “I’m fine. Really.”

  I studied her in silence. While Daphne did talk about her mother’s condition, she rarely shared anything about herself or how she was handling it. But, looking at her pale and worn face now, she seemed to be aging faster than she should, and I had my doubts about how ‘fine’ she really was.

  “What if I took over for you for one night?” I said impulsively. “You could spend the night in a hotel, preferably one with room service and a good movie selection. Maybe take a bath. Or, if you don’t want to spend the money, we could swap houses for the night and you could stay here.”

  Daphne was already shaking her head. “No, that wouldn’t work. She wouldn’t like that at all.”

  “Yeah, but it’s just for one night,” I pressed. “Surely she would be okay for just one night.”

  “Thank you, but no,” Daphne said, her voice clipped and firm. But it wasn’t just her voice—her face had shut down, too. Even her eyes had a shuttered look to them. Clearly, the conversation was closed.

  I wondered what she was hiding.

  There was an awkward silence. Daphne reached out to break off a piece of cinnamon roll, but she didn’t eat it. “When did CB leave?”

  “This morning,” I said, relieved for the change of subject. “I was surprised he stayed as long as he did.”

  “He dances to the beat of a different drummer, doesn’t he?” Daphne asked.

  I sighed. “Yeah, not to mention that wherever he goes, he seems to leave a trail of chaos behind him. Whether that’s piles of dirty laundry or people storming out of bars.”

  Daphne grinned. “Ah, yes. We haven’t had that happen in quite some time.”

  “What was that all about?” I asked, leaning forward. Even though Daphne had stopped by a few times while CB was here, I hadn’t felt comfortable asking her about it until now. “Why did Rich get so angry?” What I really wanted to ask was if he thought I had something to do with Jessica’s disappearance, but I was too afraid to hear the answer.

  Daphne sighed. “He took her disappearance really hard. Worse than Mia. He had a crush on her, but he would never admit it. Even after it was clear she had disappeared.”

  Her eyes were cast down, studying the cinnamon roll she was busy tearing apart, and I got the distinct impression she was lying.

  Why would she lie to me? What was going on?

  I tried again. “But that doesn’t explain why he would be angry with me.”

  “Who knows what goes on in other people’s heads? He’s probably still angry because he blames himself. I think all of us who were there that night blame ourselves, and wonder if there was something we could have done … something we might have missed that could have changed what happened.”

  She wasn’t answering the question.

  I opened my mouth to ask her why, but the memory of her shutting me down after offering to take care of her mom for the night was still fresh in my head. Daphne had never been someone to talk a lot about herself and I had never really thought much about it one way or another.

  Until now.

  “What do you think happened to Jessica?” I asked impulsively, trying a different tactic. “I don’t think you ever told me.”

  Daphne shook her head slowly. “I honestly don’t know. That night ... well, that’s right, you don’t remember. Jessica was so angry. The party was supposed to be a combination going away party for you, Mia and Jessica, but her mom forbade her from leaving.”

  “I do remember her being angry,” I said. “But what else happened that night?”

  Daphne shrugged. “Honestly, it started like any normal party except for how pissed Jessica was. She started drinking and ranting about her mom and ‘screw her,’ she was leaving anyway. Mia was right there with her, saying, ‘Yeah, let’s go.’ Even CB was in on the game, telling her maybe she should leave that very night—what was stopping her?” She sighed. “I’ve often wondered if that was how Jessica got the idea to just take off and not tell anyone.”

  Of course CB would be an instigator. That was probably part of why Daniel still didn’t seem to care for him—along with everything else he had done, he also may have been the one to basically push Jessica out the door. “Yeah, but it still seems strange Jessica left without saying anything to Mia.”

  “Yeah, that part never made much sense to me either. On the other hand, Jessica was pretty drunk the last time I saw her. She definitely wasn’t thinking straight.”

  “So, you think she left on her own accord then?”

  Daphne looked directly at me. “Isn’t that what you think?”

  I was taken aback at the intensity of her stare. There was something about it, something almost faintly accusatory. “I don’t know what to think,” I said after a pause. “I’m trying to remember that night.”

  Daphne’s face softened. “Yeah, it must be really frustrating not to remember.”

  “That’s an understatement. So, is there anything else you can tell me? Something that might help me remember?”

  She looked down into her coffee. “Well, it was always surprising to me that you had gotten so wasted. You were sober when we first got to the house, and as far as I could see, you weren’t drinking any more than you normally did at our other parties. I also remember something happening between you and Daniel.”

  I leaned forward. “Do you know what it was about?”

  She shook her head. “No. You two were in the mud room, near the washer and dryer. I could tell you were arguing, but I couldn’t hear about what. I was about to intervene, but then I got sidetracked.”

  “Sidetracked?”

  “By the screaming.”

  I stared at her. “What screaming?”

  “From the garden. Jessica was out there with Rich.”

  I pressed my fingers to my eyes. “Wait a minute. Why were they outside by themselves? Where were we?”

  “Most of us were in the house, either the kitchen or the living room. It was really muggy so we were all bouncing around from outside to inside.”

  “Didn’t we light a fire?” There was a fire pit in the backyard, and it seemed to me we had a fire going that night.

  “Yeah, to help with the mosquitoes, along with those citronella candles. Although there were so many bats around h
ere, the mosquitoes weren’t as bad as other places—remember all those bat houses your aunt put up?”

  My aunt. I had almost forgotten about her. “Where was my aunt during all of this?”

  “She was gone for the night. Why do you think we were at your house instead of the Rock?”

  “So, she didn’t know?”

  Daphne shrugged. “She probably knew. Or at least knew we were all coming over and that there would probably be some alcohol involved. But not about what actually happened, of course.”

  “Well, yeah,” I said. “So back to Jessica. Why was she screaming?”

  “I’m actually not completely sure. She was standing by the rose bush screaming at Rich to leave her alone. Rich was by the fire. I remember his face … I couldn’t see it at first because of how dark it was, but then he turned slightly, and the light of the fire fell on him. His face was completely expressionless. Like he was made of stone. I took a step toward him, but he shot me this look ... it’s hard to explain. It was off-putting, I guess. So, I went to Jessica instead. By that point, others were already surrounding her. I think Mia was the one who asked what on earth happened. At first, she wouldn’t answer. But then, she said the oddest thing. It was so odd I never forgot it.” She paused before continuing.

  “She said, ‘He just doesn’t get it. He doesn’t understand the evil that was done here.’”

  I dropped my mug, spilling coffee all over the table. “Oh God,” I said, trying frantically to mop it up with my napkin.

  “No worries,” Daphne said, plucking my mug up off the table and going to the sink for a washcloth. “Want more?”

  “Sure,” I said, but I was only half-listening. All I could think about was Chrissy standing in the middle of the living room, in a trance from sleepwalking, her empty eyes staring at me.

  You know. The evil that was done.

  It couldn’t be a coincidence. Could it?

  First Mad Martha, then Jessica. What was going on in this house?

  I shivered, although more from terror that was curled up in the pit of my stomach than from cold.

  “Cold?” Daphne asked, putting my coffee in front of me.