He cocked his head. “You noticed?”
I hoped the darkness hid the blush in my cheeks. “Well, I ... I mean, it’s a pretty nice ring. Not easy to miss.” I closed my mouth to keep myself from babbling.
“It was my grandmother’s ring. And yes, she stopped wearing it a couple of weeks ago. Said she had to get it resized or something. But we both knew that was a lie.”
“I’m sorry,” I said, mostly out of a sense of obligation. In reality, I wasn’t the least bit sorry.
“Don’t be,” he said. “I’m not.”
God, I wished I could see his face. What did that mean? Was he interested? Was I? I hadn’t even untangled myself from my second marriage yet—should I really be jumping into something else? Especially with a man who continuously gave me mixed signals?
Could I even trust myself in a relationship again?
“I’ll see you around,” he said and turned to head toward his car. As he ambled away, I thought I could hear him whistling.
Really?
I went back into the house, stopping myself at the last minute from slamming the door shut.
As much as I hated seeing Daniel with Gwyn, it at least made my life a lot simpler.
Now I didn’t know what to think.
Mia chose that moment to poke her head in from the kitchen, making me jump. I had forgotten she was there. “Are you finally going to tell me what’s going on?”
***
I stood by the coffee maker watching it brew, feeling desperate for a cup of coffee.
I had begged off talking to Mia the night before, telling her I was just too tired. I promised I would share all the gory details about Daniel in the morning. Instead, I had distracted her by asking if she preferred the couch or the same room where Mad Martha had killed Nellie and then herself. That did the trick.
“Are you kidding me?” she exclaimed, her eyes shining. “It’s been on my bucket list to sleep in that room. I would love it if Mad Martha would make an appearance.”
Remembering my Mad Martha dream, I didn’t think she would. But I was tired and in no mood to get into specifics, especially since I couldn’t be sure how she would react. Would she change her mind and sleep on the couch after all? Or, worse yet, leave?
Best left to another day.
As exhausted as I was, I couldn’t sleep, tossing and turning instead. I couldn’t get that kiss out of my head, especially now that I knew he and Gwyn broken up.
But what, if anything, did I want to do about it?
Finally, there was enough in the pot for me to fill my cup. I was going to need every ounce of caffeine I could get my hands on.
“While you’re there, why don’t you pour me a cup?” Mia asked. I could hear the yawn in her voice.
My heart sank. It appeared I would have less time than I had anticipated to get my head on straight.
I grabbed a mug and filled it for Mia before bringing both cups to the table. Mia’s black hair was mussed, sticking up on one side of her face. She wore my purple sleep shirt with penguins wearing scarves and stocking hats. It had been a gag gift from CB after my first divorce, presented with three pints of Ben and Jerry’s ice cream and a couple of bottles of wine. Might as well be comfy as I ate and drank my sorrows away, right?
Mia gratefully accepted the coffee. “So, I’ve waited long enough. Spill it.”
I tried to deflect one last time. “I take it no Mad Martha last night?”
Mia rolled her eyes. “Talk.”
I sighed and took a sip of coffee before I answered. “Daniel and I kissed.”
Mia’s face broke out into a huge grin before giving me a fist bump. “Yes! Finally!”
“Finally?”
“Well, yeah. You’d have to be blind not to see the sexual tension between you two. I was starting to wonder if he was ever going to make a move.”
“So, in full transparency, I don’t think he meant to make a move. It more or less just happened.”
Mia rolled her eyes. “Of course ‘it just happened’.”
I started to tell her about seeing Daniel at the bar, but as that ended up confusing her, I told her about the entire day.
Somewhere in the middle of the story, Mia started making us breakfast. When I protested, she shushed me, saying it was easier for her to listen and cook than for me to talk and cook. I didn’t know if that was true or not, but she didn’t mind, and I rather enjoyed not cooking for a change.
“So, what I don’t understand …” Mia said, sliding a tomato, mushroom, onion and cheddar omelet on each of our plates before reaching for the toast, “… is why you think Pat’s death and Jessica’s disappearance are connected.”
I took a moment to gather my thoughts as I focused on carrying the plates to the table. I didn’t really want to admit the truth, but it seemed inevitable. “It’s so stupid. It started with a dream.”
Mia cocked an eyebrow. “A dream?”
“A nightmare, really. Now I just can’t shake the feeling there’s something ... off.”
Mia reached for the raspberry jam to spread on her toast. “Well, yeah. I agree there’s something off. With Pat and Jessica. I’m just not so sure they’re related.”
“Regardless, I think it’s time I remembered what happened fifteen years ago. I think it’s time everyone got some closure around what happened to Jessica.”
“Agreed,” Mia said, chewing thoughtfully. “I think you remembering would ease a lot of minds. Even if it doesn’t end up shedding any new light on what happened to her.”
How many more are going to die because you refuse to remember? I shoved that memory down, hiding my face behind my hair as I reached for the jam. As much as Mia loved to talk about séances and the ghosts in this house, I always had the impression that she had never actually had a supernatural encounter.
Unlike Daphne.
Suddenly, I found myself wishing Daphne was here. I busied myself with the jam.
As if reading my mind, Mia asked, “What does Daphne think about all of this?”
“I ... uh ... haven’t told her.”
Mia stopped chewing and looked at me. “You haven’t? Why not?”
“Because there were ... well, inconsistencies, in her story.”
“Inconsistencies in what story?”
“The night Jessica disappeared. She told me she was basically with you the whole time except for a few minutes when she went back into the house to get something. But you said she left you to look for me in the woods.”
“Hmmm,” Mia had a thoughtful expression on her face as she scooped up her omelet.
“Could you be wrong?”
“Noooo,” Mia said, but she didn’t sound completely convinced. “I mean, I was sick so who knows? But no, I distinctly remember her disappearing into the woods.”
“So why would she lie?”
“Well you probably ought to ask her.”
I played with my omelet as I watched Mia eat. “You don’t seem concerned.”
“Because I doubt it’s a big deal. Look, yes, I think it’s weird she lied to you about that. And I don’t know why she would. Daphne was always ... closed-lipped. There’s a lot she doesn’t share about herself but I can’t believe there’s anything ... bad, behind it. If she had seen something, anything, she would have come forward. But she didn’t. She was as clueless as the rest of us. That’s why I think it’s probably nothing.”
“But what about her mother? I offered to spend the night there, give her a break, and she got really cold and prickly, quick.”
“That’s Daphne. Like I said, there’s this ultra-private side of her. Something happened with her mother. I don’t know what. But, no one has seen her in, I don’t know, years. Maybe even a decade.”
I stared at Mia. “No one? Not even a doctor?”
Mia shook her head.
“Not as far as I know. She hasn’t left the house since … well, since shortly after Jessica disappeared.”
Something about that made the hairs on my arm stand on end. Why would Daphne’s mom suddenly decide not to leave the house?
You know the evil that’s been done.
I shivered and reached for my coffee.
“Anyway, I think you should talk to her. Not only to clear this up but also because Daphne is good at things like this. You said you got the idea from a nightmare?” I nodded. “Are you dreaming about Charlie still? Is she giving you messages again, like when she wanted you to drink the tea?”
I thought about the candles. Black to vanquish the bad energy. Red to draw in fresh, new energy. White for truth. I cupped my coffee mug in my hands, trying to suck all the warmth out of it. “Yes.”
“That’s the sort of thing Daphne could likely help with. I think you should tell her. I’d love to hear her thoughts.”
Mia had a point. And there was no question I missed talking to Daphne. But I had been avoiding her for a while now, and I wasn’t sure how to start the process of reconnecting again without it feeling awkward or uncomfortable. I’d have to think about this.
“And, maybe it would be clearer to Daphne how Pat’s death and Jessica’s disappearance are related,” Mia said, scooping up the last of her eggs. “Personally, I just don’t see it. Not that I’m trying to dissuade you. I’d love to finally get to the bottom of what happened.”
“Well for one, I seem to have been the last person to see both of them alive,” I said drily, getting up to clear the table.
“Yeah, but that’s just coincidence.”
“Is it?” I carried the plates to the sink to rinse them off. “As Daniel pointed out, most people have spent their entire lives in Redemption without being in the middle of any criminal investigations. I’m here, what, a few months? And I’m in the middle of two?”
Mia chewed her lip thoughtfully. “Maybe Daniel is right. Maybe you shouldn’t be here alone.”
“What?” I straightened up from loading the dishwasher. “Not you, too.”
“Well, look at what’s happening. Maybe this is less about Pat and Jessica and more about ... you?”
How many people are going to die before you finally remember?
“Are you saying all of this is my fault?”
“No. Oh no.” Mia came toward me to put her hand on my arm. “Absolutely not. It’s just ... it is peculiar.” She hesitated. “Like maybe you’re the target?”
She must have seen something in my expression, because she rushed to reassure me. “I’m not trying to scare you. But there have been a lot of strange things going on here. It does make you wonder what’s going on. Plus, you know that saying, ‘Discretion is the better part of valor’? I mean, it wouldn’t hurt you to have someone stay with you.”
“I have Oscar.”
“The cat?” Mia’s eyebrows shot up. “I don’t think a cat is going to do much for you.”
“Who else?”
“Well, I could ...”
I shook my head firmly. “I can’t ask that of you.”
“Maybe not every night,” Mia insisted. “But honestly, I don’t mind. My apartment is pretty small. And it’s not like you don’t have the space.”
I thought about how quiet and lonely the house felt at night. A part of me would love Mia being here. But what if I woke her during one of my nightmares? “I don’t know,” I said hesitantly. “It just feels like that’s asking a ton.”
“Well, you wouldn’t be.” She paused to refill her coffee mug. “It’s too bad Chrissy doesn’t still live here with you.”
“Oh, swell. Me enlisting a sixteen-year-old to protect me. Isn’t it supposed to be vice versa?”
Mia laughed. “I didn’t mean it like that. But if she was here, you wouldn’t be alone.”
I finished cleaning up and topped off my own coffee. “It would be irresponsible to ask a sixteen-year-old to stay with me when it’s not safe for me to be alone.”
“I don’t think you’re in that much danger. If I did, I’d be insisting Daniel stay with you.” She shot me a wicked grin. “Maybe I should insist that.”
I hit her with the dish towel.
She laughed again. “We’ll table that. For now.” She waggled her eyebrows at me. “But back to Chrissy, and in all seriousness, it’s not like she’s doing all that well with her foster family.”
I was silent as I sipped my coffee. “That bad?”
Mia sighed as she nodded. “She’s just … she doesn’t look good, Becca. And no one can reach her. Maybe you should try again.”
“It’s been a while. Maybe I’ll see if she can come over.”
Mia nodded. “And I’ll plan to stay when she’s not here.”
“You really don’t have to.”
“I want to. And besides, I have a vested interest in you getting your memory back. Whatever I can do to help, I’m more than willing.”
Looking at Mia’s determined face, I really hoped I wouldn’t disappoint her. “Sounds like a plan.”
Chapter 16
I pulled open the door to the Public Works Department and was immediately hit with ice-cold air conditioning.
Although it was pretty muggy outside with the dark clouds hanging heavy and threatening in the sky, it didn’t seem to warrant that much air conditioning. Our tax dollars at work.
I crossed my arms, goosebumps forming on my flesh, and walked up to the receptionist’s desk. A young woman with hair the color of a Raggedy Anne doll and piercings in her nose was talking on the phone. She mouthed “hold on” to me.
I nodded but saw Rich, dressed impeccably in a light-pink pressed button-down shirt and khaki pants, leaning over a table with a coworker examining plans. He glanced over, his expression professional but friendly … until he saw me. He frowned slightly.
I smiled brightly and waved.
He excused himself and walked over to me. “Can I help you?” His voice was formal, no hint of any other sort of relationship between us.
“Do you have a moment? I was hoping I could talk to you.”
Somehow, he managed to look even more displeased. He glanced at Raggedy Anne, who was still involved in her phone call, and stepped closer to me.
“In private?” I asked.
He stared at me, and for a moment I thought he was going to refuse. But then he reached over and opened the gate. “I’ll need a minute but you can wait in my office.”
“Thanks,” I said.
He nodded briefly and led me to a tiny office that had his name and the words “Civil Engineer” on the door. He gestured me inside, saying, “I won’t be long.”
There wasn’t much to see in his office—a plain wooden desk topped with a desktop calendar covered with scribbled notes and coffee stains, a computer, a beige phone, a couple of plastic trays (one empty, one holding a few pieces of correspondence) and a white coffee mug with a logo from a local construction company. Metal filing cabinets lined the walls. In fact, the only item that had the slightest personal touch was a framed photo on his desk. It faced away from me, so I couldn’t see the subject matter.
No window, no color, not even a plant to make it seem less like a government office.
Rich came back in, closing the door behind him and moving to sit behind his desk. “You got five minutes. What’s this all about?”
His tone was abrupt and business-like, but not entirely unfriendly. “Look, if this is a bad time, I can come back later. Or we can arrange to meet when you’re not at work ...”
He spread his hands flat against his desk. “It’s fine. We can do this now.”
Now or never. I sucked in my breath. “Would you mind telling me what you remember from the night Jessica disappeared?”
Rich stared at me. As cold as his office was, it seeme
d to drop another ten degrees. “Why are you here, Becca?” he asked, his voice low.
I swallowed. “I want to hear your story.”
“I think you should leave.”
This wasn’t going well. “Why?”
“Why do you think?”
“Rich ...” but he was already getting out of his chair, presumably to escort me out of his office. “Rich, wait.”
He paused, folding his arms across his chest, one hip against his desk. His stance couldn’t be more obvious. I had one shot here.
“I don’t remember that night.”
He stared at me incredulously. “Seriously? You have to go.” He started toward the door again.
“What? I lost my memory but I’m trying to get it back.”
He clearly wasn’t listening as he opened the door to his office. “Goodbye, Becca.”
This was a colossal failure. I stood up. “Why do you dislike me so much?” I asked, pitching my voice low. “What did I do to you?”
His jaw worked. “You can’t be serious.”
“I am.”
I could see a vein pulsing in his neck. He took a step closer to me and I resisted the urge to back away.
“I saw you,” he said, through gritted teeth.
I blinked. “You saw me?”
“Don’t play dumb.”
I could almost hear the pieces clicking into place. “So, it was you. You were the one who saw me with Jessica.”
He leaned closer to me, so close I could not only smell his aftershave, but the minty scent of mouthwash too. “You may have everyone else in this town fooled,” he hissed, his eyes practically glittering with anger. “But I know the truth.”
“What truth? What did you see?”
He stepped back, gesturing with his other hand. “Goodbye, Becca. I have to get back to work.”
I opened my mouth to protest, but his expression was stone. I wouldn’t get anymore from him.
I had taken only a couple of steps out of his office when he called me back. “Becca?” I turned, hoping against hope that he’d had a change of heart.
No such luck. If anything, he looked even more unyielding. His eyes narrowed. “Don’t come back.” With that, he closed his office door.
Secrets of Redemption Box Set Page 47