Secrets of Redemption Box Set
Page 85
“What’s going on?” I was so confused. Why was I in my kitchen? Wasn’t I supposed to be somewhere else?
“You’re not following instructions,” Jessica said. “We told you what to do, but you’re not doing it.”
I smacked my lips together. My mouth and throat were so dry. “What am I supposed to do?”
“Find the stone,” Aunt Charlie said. “Find the jade.”
“Can you just tell me where it is?” I asked tiredly. “I have a lot going on, in case you hadn’t noticed.”
Aunt Charlie frowned. “Where haven’t you looked?”
“Everywhere,” I said.
Her frown deepened. “I meant, for anything. Where haven’t you been in this house?”
What was she talking about? I’d been in every room. God, this was so frustrating. Especially since I was sure there was something I was missing, something that was way more important.
“Can you just tell me for once? Can’t we stop with the riddles?” I asked. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“You’re in danger,” Jessica said. “A lot of it.”
“I know,” I said.
“You don’t,” Jessica said. “You have no idea.”
“You need the jade,” Aunt Charlie said. “It’s the only thing that will protect you.”
“How on earth is a stone supposed to protect me from a stalker?” I asked irritably.
“You’ll see,” Aunt Charlie said darkly. “But first, you have to find it.”
“ I don’t have time for this,” I muttered, rubbing my head. Everything felt thick and fuzzy. I knew there was something I had to do, something more important than finding a stupid rock.
Aunt Charlie’s face softened, her expression turning sad. “You have to wake up now, Becca. Things are about to get worse.”
“Way worse,” Jessica said, her face grim.
“You need to wake up now.”
“And find the jade,” Jessica said.
“Wake up,” Aunt Charlie shrieked.
Red-orange light burst through the kitchen, as if a fireball had exploded.
I jerked away. I was sitting in my car in the parking lot of The Jack, behind the wheel. My cell phone was ringing, and the bright-orange sun was shining directly into my eyes. Sharp pain seared through my temples as I struggled to pull the visor down. My head was pounding.
Squinting my eyes, I peered out the window. The bar looked closed, the parking lot deserted.
What the ...
My cell phone kept ringing, the noise aggravating my headache. I reached over to answer it, mostly to stop the shrill sound.
The screen showed it was Mia. Mia. I ran my tongue across my teeth, my mouth thick and woolly.
There was something about Mia. I was ... searching for her? Or that wasn’t precisely right. What was it?
I couldn’t quite put my finger on it. I answered the phone.
“Becca! Oh, thank God. You’re alive.”
“Why wouldn’t I be alive?” I croaked.
“Because of what happened! Didn’t you hear? Where are you?”
“Hear what?” I asked.
“Gwyn is dead. She was murdered last night.”
Chapter 21
The phone dropped from my numb fingers. Just like that, the memories of the night crashed into me.
Mia texting me to meet her.
Mia not showing or responding.
Axe spilling wine on my shirt, which, looking down at it now, was still stained pink.
Me stumbling to my car, feeling woozy and dizzy, before apparently blacking out in the driver’s seat.
What on earth had happened?
From far away, I could hear Mia’s tinny voice calling out. “Becca? Did you hear me? Where are you? Why aren’t you home?”
The sun was so bright. Too bright. And too hot. Prickles of sweat tickled the back of my neck, dripping down my (likely) ruined shirt. Shading my eyes, I reached down to scoop up my phone again. “I’m here.”
“Here? Where’s here?”
I squinted against the glare, staring at the empty bar. “At The Jack Saloon. Right where you told me to meet you.”
“What are you talking about?”
I could feel the drops of sweat trailing down my spine, between my breasts, leaving a slimy, sticky trail in their wake. “You were supposed to meet me last night,” I said, trying to keep the panic out of my voice. Oh my God, what was happening?
“Meet you? I don’t know what you’re talking about!”
“You texted me,” I said, my voice growing louder. “You said you had something to talk to me about. Something important. You wanted to meet me here.”
“Becca, I didn’t text you yesterday,” Mia said. “ I ended up having to work late.”
“But I texted you! Didn’t you get my texts?”
“Becca, come home,” Mia said. “I don’t know what’s going on here, but I didn’t get any texts from you, either. Come home and let’s sort this out.”
My chest felt like it was being squeezed. I couldn’t catch my breath. How could Mia have not gotten my texts? Was she lying? Why would she lie? What was happening?
I dropped the phone on the seat next to me and started the car. Mia was right. I needed to get home. As quickly as possible.
My head was pounding, and my eyes burned. I squeezed the steering wheel so tightly my knuckles were white, but at least my hands didn’t shake. It took everything I had to focus on my driving, but I forced myself. Just like I forced myself to drive below the speed limit and be extra vigilant watching everything around me. The last thing I needed was an accident. I needed answers, not another distraction.
The moment I pulled into the driveway, Mia burst out of the house. “Oh, thank God, you’re okay,” she exclaimed, running over to me as I wrestled with the door before realizing it was locked. I stiffly unfolded myself out of the car. “Jesus, what happened to you?”
“I told you,” I said, shielding my eyes and trying to work the kinks out of my neck and back. My legs were wobbly, like they had fallen asleep, and I propped myself up on my car as the blood rushed painfully through my limbs. “I was in my car at The Jack Saloon.”
“All night?”
I winced at a twinge in my back. “I think so. I don’t really remember.”
“I don’t understand. Why did you fall asleep in your car? How much did you have to drink?”
“Like a glass of wine. Not even.” I took an unsteady step toward the house.
“No way,” Mia said, grabbing my arm to help steady me. “You look completely hung over.”
“I feel completely hung over. But it’s the truth.”
Mia helped guide me up the driveway. “So what exactly happened? What texts do you think you got from me?”
I carefully navigated the steps on to the porch.
“Because I didn’t text you.” She held up her phone and I squinted at the small white screen. “See? No text messages.”
“But that doesn’t make sense. I sat at that table and texted you, asking where you were.”
Mia shook her phone. “There’s nothing here. Are you sure it wasn’t someone else you texted?”
“Positive,” I said, but now I wasn’t so sure. “Let’s get into the kitchen and I’ll show you.”
Mia propped the door open for me. Now that I was moving, my muscles were loosening up and it was easier for me to walk. I got myself into the kitchen and sat down at the table.
“Want coffee?” Mia asked.
“Oh God, yes.” I started to get up, but she waved me back down.
“I’ll get it.”
“Thank you.” I took a deep breath and fished out my phone from where I had shoved it in my purse. “See, here, I’ll show you.”
I opened up m
y texts and clicked on Mia’s name.
There were no texts to or from Mia the day before.
I blinked, trying to focus my eyes.
Still nothing.
I could feel the pressure in my chest start to build and my breathing become erratic.
No, this couldn’t be.
Mia sat down next to me, pushing my coffee toward me and craning her neck to see my phone. “So, let’s see those texts.”
“I ...” God, had I sent them to someone else last night by accident? Could I have been so careless? And stupid? I flipped back to my main text page and scrolled down.
There were no texts at all from the night before.
“They aren’t on my phone,” I said, fighting to keep my breathing steady.
“Maybe you sent them to someone else,” Mia said.
“No. They’re nowhere.” I slammed my phone down on the table. “Oh God. What is happening to me now? I know I sent them. I remember texting you.”
Mia picked up my phone and started scrolling through. “You’re right. I’m not seeing anything.”
I groaned and put my head in my hands. “I don’t understand what’s happening.”
“Well, brace yourself, because it’s about to get worse.”
I eyed Mia. Her face was solemn.
“I don’t know if I can handle any worse.”
“Maybe drink some coffee,” she said, pushing the cup closer to me.
I reached over and took a sip. “You better tell me,” I sighed.
“The cops want to talk to you.”
“About what?”
“Gwyn’s murder.”
Oh God. I had forgotten about Gwyn. “Wait. What?”
“Daniel called me this morning,” she said. “He told me about Gwyn. And he asked me about you. When I couldn’t find you, he told me to tell you to get yourself together because Detective Timmons would likely want you to go by the station today.”
I blinked. “Why didn’t he call me?”
Mia gave me a “duh” look. “Probably because it doesn’t look good for him to be talking to you. He’s a cop. You’re a ... person of interest.”
I closed my eyes. Of course. “Am I doomed to be a ‘person of interest’ every time there is a crime in this town?”
“Maybe.”
“So, what happened to Gwyn? How was she killed?”
Mia shook her head. “He didn’t say. But I think it happened last night, based on his reaction to me not being able to find you.”
“You mean, while I was at a bar you didn’t ask me to meet you at.” All the pieces started to slip into place. “Mia, I’m still being set up.”
She didn’t look convinced. “Set up? No, I’m sure it was just a mix up.”
“No. Someone texted me on your phone and told me to meet you there. And something happened to me. I was drugged or something. I would never have just fallen asleep in my car.”
Mia held her hand out. “Whoa. One thing at a time. How could someone text you from my phone? It was with me the whole time.”
“At work,” I said.
“Yes, I told you. I had to work late.”
“Do you carry your phone around when you’re waitressing?”
“Well, no.”
“Where is it?”
“In my locker.”
“Is your locker locked?”
Her expression looked uncertain. “Well, no. But it’s in the back off of the kitchen. Only staff can go in and out.”
“Are you sure about that?”
“Positive. Someone in the kitchen would have noticed.” But she didn’t look convinced. “I mean, nothing has ever been stolen out of there before.”
“Just because nothing has been stolen that we know of doesn’t mean someone couldn’t get into the room undetected,” I said darkly.
“But, why?”
“To get to your phone,” I said. “To text me. To set me up.”
She looked at her phone. “But my phone is password protected.”
“You don’t think someone who is tech savvy could break a phone password?”
“I ... ah.” She let her hands flutter helplessly. “I guess I never thought about it before.”
“Once they texted me, they erased the messages,” I said. “They followed me to the bar and drugged me, so I spent the night sleeping in the car in the parking lot. Now, I don’t have an alibi.”
“How did they drug you?” Mia asked. “Did you leave your wine unattended? Go to the bathroom or something?”
“No, nothing like that,” I frowned. “Someone plowed into me at one point, though.”
“Plowed into you? Like, what, they were driving a car in the bar or something?”
“Not exactly. I’m not sure what he did. He was behind me, but it sure felt like he plowed into me. Knocked my wine all over the table.” I held my shirt up, showing the stain. “That’s how this happened.”
Mia peered at it. “So you left to go clean up?”
I shook my head. “No, I stayed where I was. Another woman came up and got the bartender to bring me club soda and she helped me clean it. I got another glass of wine, but I never left the table.”
“Who brought the wine to the table?”
“The bartender, I think.” I screwed up my face. “Axe.”
“There was an axe in the bar?”
“No, Axe was the name of the guy who ran into me. He seemed pretty wasted.”
“Do you think he planned it? Did you see him do anything to the wine?”
“No, nothing. I think he was too drunk.” Or was he? Could he have been acting?
“Could anyone else have?”
“The woman,” I said. “The one who helped me clean my shirt. But she didn’t touch my wine. She was focused on helping me with my shirt and making sure Axe didn’t do any further damage.”
“Are you sure?”
“As sure as I can be.” I slumped over the table, putting my head in my hands. “On the other hand, someone must have put something in my wine. I only drank maybe half the glass before I left, and I started getting dizzy in the parking lot. I just don’t know who it could have been.”
An image of the bearded man with the neck tattoo flashed though my head, but I disregarded it. He was already gone when the new glass of wine appeared.
Or was he?
No, it couldn’t have been him, I told myself firmly. I would have known if he had been hovering around my table. I was sure of it.
“Well, regardless of what happened, you better get your story straight,” Mia said as she glanced at her phone. “You may want to change as well. Maybe a shower. And breakfast. I don’t know when the cops are going to appear, but you probably want to pull yourself together as much as you can before they do.”
“I’ll start with a shower,” I said, taking one last sip of coffee before getting up. My stomach felt too unsteady for food yet, but I knew I should probably try and force something down my throat, so I could also take some ibuprofen for my head.
It wasn’t until the hot water was running down my head and back that the full meaning of what Mia said sunk in.
Why would she say, “Regardless of what happened, you better get your story straight”?
Did she not believe me?
Chapter 22
I pushed open the doors and stepped outside into the heat and humidity. After the freezing cold of the police station, the sun felt so good. Even the baking asphalt and car exhaust were welcome after inhaling the scents of burnt coffee, old shoes, and despair permeating the police station.
I closed my eyes and tipped my face up to the sun, trying to calm the panicked voices in my head that were screaming about how I was about to be tossed in jail.
The interview, or interrogation, had not gone well.
I dressed carefully. Jeans, an oversized green tee shirt, tennis shoes. No makeup. I pulled my wet hair back into a ponytail. I wanted to look clean, earnest, and honest.
And sane.
God, I needed to look like I had my act together.
I knew my story was crazy. But if I came across credible and believable, then my story would as well.
Detective Timmons was not impressed.
“So, you’re saying someone managed to drug you, without your knowledge, and left you sleeping in your car?” His tone clearly conveyed his grave reservations about my story.
“You can test my system for drugs,” I said. If he didn’t, I was already planning to order an online drug test and do it myself.
“We’ll get to that,” he said. “You’re also saying you were lured to this bar by texts from Mia, but there is no record of these texts on either of your phones.”
“But doesn’t that make my story more believable?” I asked. “Why would I make something like that up, if there were no texts to back up my story? Can’t you check with the phone company? Even if they have no record of my texts, they should be able to show there were texts going back and forth between our phones, right? “
Detective Timmons looked even less convinced. “You do realize what you’re saying seems pretty far-fetched.”
“But it’s the truth.”
He paused and tapped his pen on his notebook. “Did anyone see you?”
“How should I know?” I asked. “I was unconscious. Remember?”
He tapped his pen some more. “Do you think you drove yourself anywhere during the time when things were ‘fuzzy’?”
“When I woke up this morning, I was parked in the same place,” I said. “I would think if I were to drive anywhere, I would have driven myself home.”
“Do you think you drove yourself to Gwyn’s apartment?”
“I don’t even know where Gwyn lives,” I said, exasperated.
Detective Timmons leaned back. “Then how do you explain your car parked outside of Gwyn’s apartment last night?”