Secrets of Redemption Box Set

by Michele Pariza Wacek

A cold shadow fell over us. Gwyn shifted, her expression uneasy as she eyed Ellen. “I think we should go,” she said.

  Ellen took another step toward me. “Not until she takes her medicine.”

  A cold draft of air blew through the room, smelling of death and decay and rot, causing the lightbulb to dance crazily on the end of its chain. Gwyn pressed herself against the wall, dropping whatever was in her hand. I noticed a flash of green flame before hearing the sharp crack of it hitting the floor. “Ellen,” Gwyn said, her voice more urgent. “We need to go.”

  Ellen stuck her tongue out at me and waggled it. Her face was completely distorted, like that of an insane, twisted clown. “She needs her medicine.”

  “We need to go.”

  “In a minute.”

  “Ellen,” Gwyn’s voice was high, panicked. The wind whipped around us, sounding more like a scream. “He’s found us.”

  That got Ellen’s attention. Her expression turned uncertain. “He can’t be worse,” she said.

  “He is.” Gwyn’s voice was flat.

  Ellen continued to stand there, wavering, holding the needle aloft. A drop of the glistening liquid sparkled at the tip, like a diamond.

  “Ellen? Did you hear me?”

  Just like that, Ellen’s face twisted again, and the manic expression returned. “We can go right after she takes her medicine.” She darted toward me, so fast I couldn’t react other than to gasp, and plunged the needle into my left arm. White, sharp pain seared my muscle, forcing a scream from my lips ...

  I found myself in bed, thrashing around, the nails of my right hand digging into my left bicep. I unclenched my hand, shaking it out to get the blood flow back into it. My left arm throbbed uncomfortably.

  Curled up on the pillow next to me, Oscar watched me, his green eyes bemused. I wondered how I managed not to knock him off the bed with all the flailing around.

  I untangled myself from the sheets and blankets and got out of bed. It was still the middle of the night, the sky dark.

  New moon. The time for new beginnings.

  Or endings.

  I shivered, running my hands over my bare arms. I could still feel the scrapes on my left bicep.

  After a moment, I forced myself to turn away from the window. I realized I was scanning the yard, searching the inky blackness for any figures.

  There’s no one out there, I told myself. And even if there was, it didn’t matter, because the house was locked up tight. I had to stop this train of thought before I panicked.

  I took a deep breath and decided to head down to the kitchen for a cup of tea. I knew I wouldn’t be getting any more sleep after that nightmare. I could still see Ellen’s maniacal grin as she lunged for me. Not to mention the fact that I didn’t like how Gwyn was there at all.

  Was she dead, too?

  No, I would have heard something. Daniel would have texted me. Or Detective Timmons would have called. Or something.

  Maybe I should check my phone while getting that cup of tea to help me relax.

  I opened my bedroom door and tiptoed out, avoiding the squeaks in the floor. The last thing I wanted was to disturb Mia or Chrissy, especially with footsteps like Mia had been hearing.

  Chrissy’s door was shut tight. I breathed a sigh of relief as I passed it. I hadn’t even realized I was holding my breath, wondering if my bad dream meant that I’d find her sleepwalking again. But ever since she had moved into my old bedroom, her sleep had been deep, peaceful, and uninterrupted.

  As relieved as I was, I found myself suspiciously eying Mia’s room—the room Chrissy had slept in before.

  And CB, before her.

  The room Mad Martha killed Nellie in all those years ago.

  The door was slightly open, and even though it really wasn’t my business, I leaned forward to take a quick peek inside.

  It was empty.

  I quickly turned to check the bathroom, but it was empty, too.

  Mia couldn’t be sleepwalking. Could she?

  I hurried down the steps, telling myself she probably was having trouble sleeping again and was just making herself a cup of tea, just like I was about to do.

  I found her standing motionless in the center of the family room. I froze in the doorway, staring at her.

  Her face was in shadow, but everything about her, from the stance of her body to where she stood on the floor, was exactly like I had found Chrissy every time she sleepwalked.

  I took a step forward, wondering if I should talk to her or just take her by the arm and gently lead her back to bed when she suddenly turned toward me. “Oh,” she said, putting her hand to her heart. “You startled me.”

  “Sorry,” I said, relieved. “So, you’re not sleepwalking.”

  “No.” She let out a short bark of laugher. “Why would you think that?”

  I laughed a little as well. “I used to find Chrissy here in the middle of the night. But she really was sleepwalking. Want some tea?”

  “Sure.”

  I headed to the kitchen with Mia close behind. “You can’t sleep?” I asked, turning the stove on to start the water boiling.

  “No. I mean, I was sleeping, but something woke me, and I couldn’t fall back asleep.”

  I pulled a couple of mugs out of the cabinet. “Did you hear footsteps again?”

  She shook her head, rubbing her face. Her hair was matted with sweat and stuck up on one side. “No. At least I don’t think so.” She sighed heavily. “I had a bad dream.”

  I dug in the cupboards, finding some lavender and lemongrass for tea. The herbs were old, from Aunt Charlie’s store, but I wanted to see how they did before selling any of them. “Want to talk about it?”

  “Not really,” she said, trying to smile. “I ... I would rather not think about it.”

  “I get it,” I said, assembling the tea. “I had a bad dream, too.”

  “That’s why you’re awake?”

  I nodded.

  We were both silent as I finished getting the tea ready and poured hot water in both mugs. I slid one over to her, cupping my hands around mine.

  “You know, you don’t have to stay,” I said quietly.

  “What, you don’t want me now?” She tried to say it jokingly, but it fell a little flat.

  I smiled slightly. “Of course I do. I feel a lot safer with you here, too. But I don’t think it’s fair to you. Actually, I think I’m being selfish letting you stay here.”

  “You don’t think it’s safe?”

  I raised my hands, palms up. “I have no idea if it’s safe. Daniel checked the house, and we changed the locks, so I think we’re safe. But it seems pretty clear that I’m being stalked or harassed or something by someone who at the very least is involved with murder, and at worst, is an actual killer. How else would he know where Ellen’s body was? So, this IS serious.”

  Mia frowned into her tea. “I don’t want to leave you alone here.”

  “And I don’t want you to put my safety above yours,” I said. “I’m a big girl. I can take care of myself.” Even as I said it, I wondered if it was true. It certainly felt like I had done a pretty crappy job of taking care of myself up until now.

  Maybe it was about time I started.

  Mia took a sip. “Hey, this is pretty good, actually.”

  “That’s a relief. I would hate to sell garbage.”

  Mia laughed, more normal sounding. “Look, I meant what I said earlier,” she said. “I like it here. I really don’t want to leave. I feel like I have a good setup for when I start school.”

  “And it will still be here in a few days or even weeks,” I said. “It’s not like I’m going to rent the room out from under you. If you would be more comfortable finding somewhere else to stay for now, I’m really okay with that.”

  Mia paused, frowning slightly as she stared int
o her tea. “It’s more than that,” she said softly. “Even though it doesn’t make any sense, I feel safe here. A part of me feels like I shouldn’t. I know you’re right, and I really ought to move out, at least temporarily. But ...” She shrugged. “That doesn’t change how I feel.”

  “Yeah, I can understand that,” I said.

  She shot me a quick, grateful look. “You can?”

  I nodded. “Yeah, I’ve felt that myself. That this is where I belong.”

  “Is that why you’re not leaving?”

  “Partly. And partly because I refuse to let myself be bullied into leaving.”

  She pursed her lips. “Yeah, I get that.”

  I studied her as she sipped her tea—the dark circles under her eyes, the “waxy” look of her skin from lack of sleep. Was it true what she said? That she felt safe here?

  Then why wasn’t she sleeping?

  The house is whispering to me again.

  I shivered, stirring my tea as a cover. I wanted to ask her more questions—to probe more deeply into what happened every night when she closed the door to her bedroom.

  But I held back. I didn’t want her to think I didn’t believe her. Or to anger her.

  Besides, she was an adult. She certainly could sort out her own feelings, and if she felt safe, then she felt safe. Just like she could sort out why she wasn’t sleeping, and if she thought it was stress and overworking, then it was likely stress and overworking.

  So why was it still bothering me?

  Chapter 20

  I took a sip of my drink and checked my phone for the umpteenth time.

  I was sitting in a bar called The Jack Saloon—the epitome of a “dive” bar. When I first pulled up, I couldn’t believe Mia had wanted to meet me there instead of The Tipsy Cow. Or in my kitchen or backyard, for that matter.

  But her text had asked me to meet her here, followed by, Something’s come up. Need to talk.

  At the time, I was more concerned about what she wanted to talk about then the place she had chosen. After last night’s conversation, I thought we had turned a corner and she was on board with everything.

  Now, I wasn’t so sure.

  I assumed the place Mia had chosen would be perfectly respectable. Actually, maybe “respectable” wasn’t quite the right word. I was just used to The Tipsy Cow—a popular, well-lit, and very public place.

  Instead, when I found The Jack tucked at the end of a dead-end road, the parking lot filled with motorcycles and flanked by empty, industrial-looking buildings, I checked my phone again.

  No, this was the place.

  At least it was busy. I had to weave my way past men in leather jackets, many of them sporting beards and beer guts, and overly made-up women also clad in lots of leather. There were four pool tables crammed into the side, all full. It stank of cigarette smoke, whisky, beer, and perfume. More than a few heads turned my way when I entered.

  I ordered a wine and sat at one of the tables facing the door, so I would see Mia the moment she entered. I listened to the clink of the pool balls as I impatiently waited.

  Should I text again? I had already texted, I’m here and, Are you going to be here soon?

  She was fifteen minutes late. Not unheard of, especially if Aunt May’s was busy and she got off late, but sitting there alone was making me uneasy.

  Why did she pick this place?

  I could sense I was being watched. Men glanced over at me before leaning over to line up their pool cue. Others stared at me over glasses of beer. I tried to ignore them.

  Where are you? I texted. Why wasn’t she responding?

  I noticed a man sitting alone at the bar, nursing a whisky and eyeing me. Oh God, hopefully he wasn’t planning a “pick-me-up” attempt. There was something familiar about him, but for the life of me, I couldn’t figure out what it was. He had long, black hair, a thick, black beard, and a neck tattoo that snaked down into his shirt.

  Nervously, I checked my phone again. No response from Mia. Now she was twenty minutes late. Maybe I should just leave and text her to let her know I was going home … that she should meet me there. Even though I told myself I was overreacting, I still couldn’t shake the nagging sensation that whoever had been emailing me and following me had somehow set all of this up … and that I had, yet again, fallen into his trap.

  But how could that be? It wasn’t some anonymous email that led me there. I was there because Mia asked me to come.

  Someone bumped into me from behind, pushing me into the table and spilling my drink. “Oh, God. Sorry.”

  A scruffy looking guy put a hand on the table, but whether he was trying to steady himself or the table was up for debate. In the dim light of the bar, I couldn’t tell how old he was. He could have been anywhere between twenty and fifty, but his skin had the worn, leathery look of too much sun, too much wind, and too much alcohol.

  “It’s okay,” I said, praying the red wine hadn’t ruined my cream short-sleeved vee-neck top. That will teach me to ever wear white in a bar again, I thought. I looked around for napkins.

  The scruffy looking guy swore. “Al, we need a rag. Or something. And a new glass of wine.”

  “No, really, I don’t ...”

  “I have to make it up to you,” he said, rocking back unsteadily. His breath smelled of beer and cheap whisky.

  “You really don’t ... “ I said, trying to get up. Maybe if I got home fast enough, I could throw the shirt in the wash and that would save it.

  “Really, Axe,” a woman said, bustling over. “Al, some club soda,” she called out. To me, she said, “Don’t touch it, sweetie. You’ll rub the stain in.”

  She was one of the older biker chicks. Her heavy makeup did nothing to disguise the lines and wrinkles in her face, but her eyes were kind as she smiled at me. “Don’t mind Axe,” she said. “He’s really a sweetheart, but so clumsy, especially when he’s been drinking.”

  “Let me make it up to you,” Axe said.

  “No, really, I was just about to go home,” I tried to protest, but no one was listening. A club soda appeared, seemingly out of nowhere, and the biker chick walked me through how to dab the stain, while Axe kept loudly (and repeatedly) apologizing. The table was wiped clean and a new glass of wine also appeared like magic.

  “I think it’s going to be okay,” biker chick said, putting a hand on Axe’s arm.

  “Honestly, I’m just so sorry,” he said again.

  “Really, it’s okay,” I said. “It’s just a shirt. And look, the stain is going away.”

  “Wine is on me,” Axe said. “Your other glass, too. I want to make it up to you.”

  “It’s really not necessary,” I said. “I was going to leave anyway.”

  “Absolutely not,” biker chick said, giving Axe a jerk. “At the very least, enjoy your wine first. It’s the least Axe can do.”

  Sighing, I picked up the glass. Maybe a couple of sips, and then I could sneak out of there. I quickly checked the bar to see if the guy with the beer and neck tattoo was still there.

  He was gone.

  He must have left during the wine kerfuffle.

  See, I told myself. I’m being paranoid. He was just some guy wondering why on earth I was hanging out in this particular bar. I sipped my wine and checked my phone again.

  Nothing from Mia.

  Had something happened to her? It was completely unlike her, no-showing without a call or text. I suddenly had a very bad feeling.

  I took one last sip of wine and slid off my bar stool. I had to find out what was going on, and just sitting there wasn’t going to do it.

  “But you haven’t finished your wine,” Axe called out. I waved at him and kept going. The most important thing right then was getting in touch with Mia and making sure she was okay.

  I opened the door to the bar and blinked a few times to accl
imate my eyes to the darkness. Even though the parking lot was lit by streetlights, it seemed hazy, somehow … as if I were seeing everything through a filter. Carefully, I walked down the couple of steps to the dirt parking lot.

  “You okay?” someone called out. I looked up, blinking a few times. A couple of guys in black jackets were standing by one of the motorcycles.

  “I’m fine,” I said, but it felt a little like I had cotton in my mouth. What was going on with me? I had barely drunk any wine at all—most of the contents of the first glass had been spilled, and I only drank about half of the second.

  “Maybe you shouldn’t drive,” the other one said.

  “No, I’m okay,” I said firmly, drawing myself up. “It’s just been a long day.” I didn’t want them trying to stop me. I had to get home. I had to find out what was going on with Mia. And I was okay. I certainly wasn’t drunk. I was probably just reacting to all the recent stress. My blood pressure was likely sky high, and I was a little disoriented and lightheaded because of it.

  I blinked a few times, located my car and marched over to it, refusing to let myself turn to see if those men were watching me. I can do this, I told myself. I quickly unlocked the car and jumped in, slamming the door closed behind me and locking it just to be on the safe side.

  God, I was really dizzy. I rubbed my head, taking a few deep breaths, and slid my key into the ignition. Maybe I should sit there for a moment, just to catch my breath, before starting the car.

  I realized I should text Mia before I left, too, to let her know I was headed home in case she was on her way. Maybe I should text Daniel, as well. Tell him what was going on.

  I fumbled for my phone, but it seemed to slip out of my grasp, sliding away, far away, into the dark and grey mist.

  ***

  “Becca! Becca!”

  I stirred, trying to force my eyes open. They felt heavy, weighted down by rocks.

  “Becca! Can you hear me?”

  Finally, I got my eyes to open. I was in my kitchen, propped up on the table. “How did I get here?” I asked, my voice slurred.

  “Well, this is a fine kettle of fish you’ve gotten yourself in.”

  I blinked. Aunt Charlie and Jessica were across from me, both of them staring at me with stern, disapproving expressions.