Hours later, covered with dirt and grime and cobwebs and feeling quite discouraged, I paused to take a break and drink some of my coffee that had since grown quite cold. I had gotten through about half of the crap, yet had found no sign of anything even remotely resembling jade.
And even if I did find it buried somewhere, maybe in a box filled with ratty sheets and towels or something, how could it possibly help me now?
Was there any way I could speed up the process? The faster I could get through the boxes, the faster I could get out of the basement. And the faster I could try and figure out another place to look. Maybe I didn’t go through her dresser well enough, or her old files. Actually, that sounded more promising than digging through the rest of the dilapidated basement junk. Maybe I should just abandon my current search and go back upstairs ...
No, I was going to finish what I started. I was already disgusting and in need of a long, hot shower. I might as well finish.
I moved to a rather large pile of boxes leaning against the wall, intending to nudge them away from it so I could see if any of them were marked. Instead, the column of boxes was so surprisingly light that I ended up shoving it away from the wall further than expected, and in doing so, I knocked the bare lightbulb hanging from a chain in the ceiling. The light swung around, causing crazy shadows against the walls, and I froze.
Just like that, I was back in my dream with Ellen and Gwyn.
Surrounded by boxes and grey walls and floors, with a single bare lightbulb swinging wildly around me.
I sucked in my breath, putting a hand to my chest, and quickly searched the basement. Was I alone in the house? Had Mia and Chrissy left yet?
I wanted nothing more than to flee the basement and escape to the safety and comfort of the kitchen, but I was afraid if I did, I might never return.
As I stood there debating, a glint of green caught the corner of my eye. I quickly turned and found myself staring at that crack in the floor, the one I had discovered a few days ago.
What the …? Now, on top of everything else, it appeared I was hallucinating. There was nothing there except grey cement ...
The lightbulb swung back around, and there it was again—a flash of something green. It was definitely coming from the crack in the floor.
I got down on my hands and knees and tried to peer into it. Was there something there? It was hard to tell. Between the flickering light bulb and lack of light, I wasn’t sure.
What I needed was a flashlight. I stood up, brushing off my yoga pants, and headed toward the stairs.
I grabbed my coffee to refresh it and my cell phone, checking it as I climbed the stairs. I had to keep an eye on the clock as the alarm people were supposed to be arriving in the afternoon, but I still had some time.
After washing up at the laundry room sink and refreshing my coffee, I checked the house. Mia and Chrissy were both gone, and the house was locked up tight. Oscar was peacefully sleeping on the couch in a puddle of sunlight. I could feel the tension in my chest start to loosen.
No one was in the house. Oscar looked too peaceful for that to have happened.
I located a flashlight and headed back to the basement. I kneeled down, shining the light into the crack, and immediately saw something green buried in the cement, sparkling dully in the light.
Could that possibly be the jade Aunt Charlie was talking about? What was it doing in the basement floor?
I used one finger to gently trace the crack. It wasn’t wide enough for me to reach whatever was jammed inside. The only way I would be able to get it out would be to widen the crack, which would mean making it worse.
Was that smart to do?
On the other hand, what were my choices? Jail, or breaking my basement floor?
It was an easy choice.
I used my fingers to try and scrape away at the concrete, but I quickly realized it wouldn’t work. I was going to need some sort of tool—a crowbar or hammer or something.
Did Aunt Charlie even have any tools?
I shined the flashlight around the basement, seeing if there was anything that resembled a toolbox, but nothing looked promising.
Maybe the garage. People stored tools in garages, right?
I trekked back up the stairs and into the garage. After a lot of poking around, I finally unearthed a hammer and screwdriver.
Well, it was a start.
Back to the basement to see about prying open the crack. It didn’t take me long to realize I was getting nowhere fast.
I sat back on my heels and considered my options. Clearly, I needed something with more “umph,” like a jackhammer. That’s what construction workers used when they broke apart pavement. But where would I get one? And, even if I could find one and figure out how to use it, would I end up destroying the jade? And with it, the promised proof?
I needed more help. Maybe I needed to do an internet search, but wait ... the cops still had my computer. Maybe I needed to go talk to someone. Daniel? No, I needed to leave him out of it. He already had his hands full with everything else he was dealing with because of me.
Maybe I should go to a hardware store and see if I could talk to one of the employees. Plus, with that option, I could get the tools I needed right then and there.
Eager to get going, I grabbed my phone and my coffee and headed for the stairs, when I remembered I was still waiting for the techs from the alarm company to come. I should call and see when they were planning to arrive. Then I could plan my trip to the hardware store.
I dialed the number and started to tell the perky voice who answered what I wanted when she interrupted me. “Oh, yes, Becca Kingsley. I meant to call you sooner, but it’s been a bit crazy here.”
This didn’t sound promising. I put the phone on speaker, frowning. “Call me? Is there a problem?”
“Well, we have to reschedule.”
“Reschedule? Why?” Oh no. I was starting to feel sick inside. I had really wanted the alarm installed today, so I could at least cross one thing off my long list of things to worry about. Plus, I was hoping it would help Mia sleep better at night.
“I don’t know why. You’re the one who called to cancel.”
“I didn’t call to cancel.” Now I was starting to feel the edges of panic slicing into my anxiety. What the hell was happening here?
I could hear papers rustling over the line. “Yes, you did. I have the record right here.”
“You can’t possibly, because I didn’t call.” Deep breaths, Becca. I didn’t want to alienate this woman. I still wanted that alarm system installed.
“Well, someone called,” she said. “Although now that I’m looking at my notes, it may not have been you.”
“When did this happen?”
“Looks like a couple of days ago. Did you want to reschedule?”
A couple of days ago? I ground my teeth together, trying to keep from screaming. “Yes, I’d to reschedule. Can they still come today?”
The voice went from perky to regretful. “No, I’m sorry. They’re on another job right now. But I have time next Wednesday.”
Wednesday? I had to wait until next Wednesday? “Nothing sooner?”
“Unfortunately, no.”
“Okay, then. But, back to whoever canceled. Can you tell me what he or she said? Or who he or she was?”
“There’s nothing specific like that in my notes,” she said. “It just says you had to cancel and would call to reschedule.”
“But it wasn’t me!”
“Well, whoever it was,” the perky voice amended. “Shall I schedule you for Wednesday?”
“Yes,” I said. “And, if anyone calls to cancel, could you call me at this number to confirm?”
The perky voice agreed, although I sensed some trepidation. I didn’t completely blame her. It was a strange request.
On the other
hand, it was also pretty strange for someone other than me to have called. The only people who even knew we were getting an alarm system were Chrissy, Mia, and Daniel. Oh, and Daphne, too. But I couldn’t see any of them canceling. They all wanted it installed. Mia, in particular.
Unless ... no. Even if Mia was somehow subconsciously involved with whatever was going on (courtesy of Mad Martha), why would she cancel the alarm system being installed? It made no sense.
Well, there wasn’t anything I could do about it now. When Mia and Chrissy came home, I could talk to them and see if they could shed any light on what happened. I could also call Daniel as well, just to check and see if, for some unfathomable reason, he had called to cancel and didn’t think to tell me.
But, right now I needed to focus on that crack in the basement. And that meant a trip to the hardware store.
Chapter 25
“A jackhammer is your best bet,” the older man said, chewing on a toothpick as he considered me with his pale, watery, blue eyes. His white, fluffy hair stuck straight up, resembling a cotton swab. “But I still think you’d be better off hiring someone to do it for you.”
He wore the same red apron the other employees wore. The name on his name tag read “Ted,” and like most of the other employees, he looked old enough to have retired from a “real” job. Now, he could enjoy his “retirement job,” being paid to chat about tools and fixing things.
I shifted from one foot to the other. I really didn’t want to hire anyone. Not only because I wasn’t completely sure what I was going to find, (so I didn’t want a witness), but also (and more importantly), because I didn’t want to wait. The clock was ticking. I could almost feel the hot, excited breath of Detective Timmons on the back of my neck, eager to find that missing piece, whatever it was, so he could finally arrest me.
“I want to start the process,” I said. “See what’s going on.”
“So, is the crack only in that corner?” he asked. “Or is your whole floor cracking?”
“Just that corner,” I said, although in my head, I was trying to picture the whole basement floor. Was that the only place where it was cracking? Or was the whole floor falling apart?
“I wonder what happened to cause it,” he mused. “It sounds like whoever put your floor in didn’t do a very good job.”
“That’s why I want to dig it up. See what’s going on.”
“Well, like I said, a jackhammer is the fastest. Although,” he made a point of looking at me up and down, “it’s not the easiest tool to handle. You could end up doing more damage than you intend.”
“Are there other tools?”
“A concrete saw,” he said immediately. “Or a hammer drill.”
Those sounded promising. “What’s the difference?”
“Here, I’ll show you.” He walked me over to a rack of power tools to explain. “The concrete saw,” he pointed at a contraption that resembled a chainsaw, “is designed to cut into the concrete. This,” he pointed to a device that was longer and skinnier, “is a hammer drill. It’s designed to drill holes in the concrete. But if you’re trying to break up the concrete so you can see what’s under the crack, the concrete saw is your best option. The hammer drill will take you a long time.”
I didn’t particularly care for the price tag on the concrete saw, but at this point, what options did I have? If it did end up going nowhere and I was eventually arrested, a couple hundred dollars in the hardware store wouldn’t even be a blip on the radar next to the thousands and thousands my legal bills would amount to.
And, if it worked, it would be a small price to pay to prove my innocence.
Ted walked me through how to use the concrete saw and sold me a box of masks and eye protection. “It’s going to get really dusty,” he warned. “You definitely want to remove anything you don’t want covered in concrete dust before you start.”
I nodded, hoping I would remember everything he was telling me.
“Also,” he fished out a card from his vest pocket. “My nephew is a handy man. He does good work. You may want to give him a call when you’re ready for some help.” He winked at me.
I took the card, grateful for the referral. Eventually, I would likely need help putting the basement back together.
I paid for my purchases and carried them out to the car. As I slid into the driver’s seat, I realized I was starving. I had grabbed a couple of pieces of toast early that morning before heading down to the basement, and had skipped lunch. I decided to make a quick stop at the grocery store. Chrissy wouldn’t be home to cook that night, as she had plans with friends, and if I was going to start digging up the basement, I wasn’t going to have the time to cook dinner myself, either, which had been my original plan. Best to grab a couple of frozen meals I could just pop in the oven.
I got myself a vanilla latte at the Starbucks inside the grocery store to help tide me over until I was able to make myself something a little more substantial for lunch before heading over to the frozen food section. Lasagna sounded good. Of course, anything would sound good right then. I tossed in the family-sized meal, along with some garlic bread. That would be more than enough for Mia, as well.
“Fancy meeting you here again,” said a voice from behind me, startling me so much, I spilled a few drops of latte on my already gnarly shirt. I whirled around to see JD standing there with his cart.
“You scared me,” I said.
He gave me a sideways smile. “Sorry.” He gestured with his chin toward my cart. “What happened to your chef?”
“Chef? I don’t have a ... oh, you mean my stepdaughter,” I said.
“Yeah, doesn’t she cook for you anymore?” He opened the freezer and pulled out a few frozen meals. “Your cart is starting to look like mine.”
“She just wants a break tonight,” I said, feeling reluctant to tell him she had other plans. How did he keep turning up like this?
JD dropped the meals into his cart and looked up, directly into my eyes. “How are you doing?” He didn’t ask it in a conversational, small talk way. There was a seriousness, a directness, that made it clear he had at least some idea of what had happened to me that week.
I shrugged, not wanting to get into it. “Fine.”
He took a step closer. “No, really.”
I turned back to the freezer, selecting another large family dinner—baked ziti. “I’m fine. Honestly.”
“I’ve heard,” he said, his voice low. “I mean, from what I’ve heard, this week must have been hell for you.”
For a moment, I was overwhelmed. Staring at the freezer, still holding the meal, it hit me that no one else had said that to me. No one else had actually acknowledged how I might be feeling. Not Mia. Not Daniel. Not even Daphne. Sure, they were all supportive, but no one had actually said those words to me.
I blinked back a few tears, took a breath, plastered a smile on my face, and turned back to JD. “Yes, it’s been rough, but I’m getting through it.””
He moved closer. “Is there anything I can do?”
I dropped my meal into the cart without thinking. He was close enough that I could smell the spicy scent of his aftershave mixed with the fresh, herbal scent of his shampoo. Suddenly, I found myself wishing that it was Daniel standing in front of me, asking me how I was doing and how he could help. Was I destined to be cursed in relationships?
“What’s wrong?” JD asked, his breath warming my cheek. I hadn’t realized how close he had moved to me. He lifted his hand and used one finger to gently push my hair behind my ear. It was difficult to breathe. “How can I help?”
No, no, no. This couldn’t be happening. I wanted to be with Daniel. Didn’t I?
I took a step back, trying to clear my head, feeling strangely intoxicated. “Thanks, but there’s nothing you, well, really anyone, can do.” Unless you know how to cut into concrete, I thought. The sentence popped
into my head, but I pressed my lips tightly together to prevent it from escaping my mouth.
Being alone with him in my house would be a bad idea. A very bad idea.
“I have to get going,” I said abruptly. I couldn’t allow myself to become distracted. I had a basement to get back to. Every moment I wasted here was a moment closer to Detective Timmons arresting me.
He gave me a skeptical look. “Are you sure, Becca?” he asked softly.
“Of course I’m sure,” I said. “I have to get home.”
“I meant about helping you,” he said. “Even if it’s just by listening. I’m a good listener. And maybe if you talk about what’s going on, a solution will present itself.”
Even as he spoke, I was shaking my head, taking a few steps backward to grab my cart. “Thanks for the offer, but I’m good. Truly. I’ll see you later.”
I quickly turned away before he could answer, almost running into a heavy-set, older woman with black, obviously dyed, obviously permed, tightly curled hair. Her eyes, framed by black glasses, met mine, and she gave me a disapproving look, her lips pursed, the red lipstick bleeding into the wrinkles around her mouth. With a start, I realized I recognized her. She worked at Aunt May’s. I wondered if that meant she knew about Daniel and me. I wondered if she had seen JD standing so close, too close, to me. I wanted to protest, to tell her it wasn’t what it seemed.
But that somehow made it sound even worse. JD had just touched my cheek. That was it. Why did I need to defend myself against it?
Secrets of Redemption Box Set Page 88