Secrets of Redemption Box Set

by Michele Pariza Wacek

  Why would he do such a thing? The closest way I can explain it is because he had become possessed. Something, some evil in this town, took root inside him. In the few weeks leading up to the murder, he had become obsessed with power and control. To him, killing Jesse was one of the biggest sacrifices he could make, and by doing so, it would unlock more power for him.

  I knew something was wrong, but I had no idea how far he had gone down the path until he triumphantly showed up at my house, his hands still stained with Jesse’s blood.

  It was in that moment that I knew what I had to do.

  Becca, I knew he would never stop. I knew he had a son, a family, and that darkness could infect them as well, if I let it go too long unchecked.

  I also worried that the darkness that had possessed him would also protect him from the law. He seemed untouchable, as some unseen hand guided him, lining everything up for him. Jesse had practically been presented to him, on his way out of town after having fought with his sister.

  So that night, I hid my horror from him and began to lay out my plan. I wanted to get his confession on tape, so I could give it to Louise. She deserved to know the truth. It was also an act of self-preservation. If the truth ever came out, I wanted everyone to hear it from Jonathan’s lips—the evil that was done.

  So, a few days later, I invited him over for a romantic dinner, during which I was able to tape his confession. Once he admitted what he had done, I slipped him some poisoned wine.

  It was very quick.

  I kept his body in the chest freezer in the basement until I was able to have it buried in the cement floor.

  How I was able to do that doesn’t matter. What matters is that, if you haven’t dug up his body yet, you should. If you look at the floor in the basement, you’ll see a crack. That’s where he is.

  Other than Jonathan’s monster of a stepfather, everyone believed he had left his wife and family. Even though his madness wasn’t in full display, people knew. They could sense how he changed. Quite honestly, I think everyone was simply glad he was gone.

  Along with giving the cops the tape, please make sure Louise hears it. Over the years, we have never seen eye to eye, but she deserves to know the truth about her brother. Jesse would never have abandoned his sister; I don’t care what that fight was about. He loved Louise.

  Lastly, I hope you will one day be able to forgive me. I know what I wrote here is unforgivable, especially since you don’t even have the chance to ask me any questions, but I hope one day, after the shock wears off, you’ll be able to see that I did what I did for love.

  And no matter what your feelings are about me now, know I’ve always loved you, and I still love you. I’m proud of you, baby girl. You’re everything I’ve ever wanted you to be.

  Love,

  Aunt Charlie

  Tears were streaming down my face as I finished the letter. Mia looked at me curiously, but respectfully gave me space. She squeezed my hand and I silently handed her the letter.

  Aunt Charlie loved me. Despite the fact that I hadn’t talked to her since I was sixteen. Despite the fact that I had left her alone, vulnerable to a psychopath.

  She loved me, and she had done her best.

  Just like I would now do my best—to re-start her business and get it running as smoothly as when she was in charge. To get the truth out and restore her reputation.

  And to be the best person I could be.

  Chapter 36

  “I still can’t get over what happened,” Mia said over coffee the next morning. “I’ve always known crazy things happen in this town, but this … this took things to a whole other level.”

  After leaving the bank, Mia and I had taken the cassette tape to the police station. It was exactly what Aunt Charlie had said it would be—a confession.

  I recognized Aunt Charlie’s voice, albeit a younger Aunt Charlie, but not the man’s. It did somehow remind me of the way JD talked. It’s also possible that I was simply hearing something that wasn’t there.

  As Jonathan was long dead, the cops were going to further analyze the tape to see if they could clearly identify the voice as Jonathan’s. In the meantime, it seemed everyone was starting to accept what had happened.

  And finally, to my great relief, Detective Timmons let me know that I was no longer under investigation. They had turned their attention to JD, who was still in the hospital, but awake.

  For the first time since I had moved to Redemption, I felt like I could finally exhale.

  “Yeah, who would have thought ...” I was interrupted by a loud knocking at the door.

  Mia and I looked at each other. “Any idea who it is?”

  Mia shrugged. “No clue.”

  I got up, waving Mia back as I moved to the front door to look out the peephole.

  It was Louise.

  Oh God. She was the last person I wanted to deal with.

  I wondered if I backed away quietly enough, she might assume no one was home and simply go away. Or maybe I could send Mia to talk to her.

  I chewed my lip for a moment, trying to decide what to do.

  At the same time, Louise knocked again, and Mia called from the kitchen “Who is it?”

  I closed my eyes and sighed. Well, Louise likely heard that, so pretending to be gone wouldn’t work anymore.

  As if she somehow read my mind, Louise called through the door, “Becca, are you there? I just want to talk.”

  “It’s Louise,” I called out to Mia. To Louise, I said “Louise, I don’t want any trouble.”

  “I’m not here to cause trouble,” came the muffled response. “I’m here to apologize.”

  Apologize?

  “Louise is here?” Mia asked from right behind me, causing me to jump. She was standing in the living room, coffee in hand.

  “Yeah,” I said. “She says she’s here to apologize.”

  Mia’s eyes rose. “Apologize? Well, maybe you ought to open the door.”

  I made a face.

  “Becca, I don’t blame you for being angry,” the muffled voice continued. “I acted horribly to you. I would really appreciate a chance to apologize. But, I also understand if you don’t want to open the door.”

  I sighed. Great. I reached out to slide the deadbolt back and open the door.

  Louise stood on the porch step. She looked like she had aged twenty years overnight. Her hair, now a silvery grey, was pinned back in a messy bun, and her face was tired and flat. She wore no make-up.

  She gave me a tired but grateful smile. “Thank you.”

  “Do you want to come in?” I asked awkwardly. I wondered if I should offer her coffee if she said yes. I didn’t particularly want to, but it felt rude not to.

  Luckily, she saved me that decision by shaking her head no. “This will only take a second,” she said. She paused, took a deep breath, almost like she was gathering herself. “I heard the tape,” she said. “At first, I was so angry.”

  I briefly closed my eyes. Here we go again. I never should have opened the door.

  “How could Charlie not have told me? That’s what kept going through my mind. All those years, she watched me suffer. She didn’t tell me she knew what happened to Jesse. She didn’t give me closure, a chance to grieve.

  “But, after the initial anger, I realized she couldn’t tell me. Even if she had wanted to, she couldn’t have. I made sure of it. I was so horrid to her. Why would she ever trust me with her secret? It would be one thing if we were still friends—then, maybe she could have played me the tape while she was still alive. But, how could she possibly do that when for all she knew, I would turn her in?”

  Louise finally raised her head to look me in the eyes. “I don’t condone what your aunt did. I don’t condone murder. But I understand why she did it. She did it for us. She did it for me. We were friends, once. Did you know that? When
she first moved here, we were close. But then ... well, it doesn’t matter. What matters is that I’m sorry. For everything. How I treated your aunt and how I treated you.”

  Louise held my gaze, and under the exhaustion, under the grief, I suddenly saw it.

  The peace. And acceptance.

  Of course, she would never get over the deaths of her brother and daughter, but standing before me was a woman who had wrapped herself in rage so she wouldn’t shatter into a million pieces. She had finally found the courage to let the bonds of that rage fall away, to let herself shatter, and put the pieces back together. Those pieces may not fit together completely right anymore, but they were back together.

  And, finally, finally, the first inklings of peace would not only be accepted, but welcomed.

  “I accept your apology,” I said. “And while I want to thank you for apologizing, I also want to say it’s not necessary. I don’t blame you for being angry. At either of us.”

  Louise smiled a sad smile. “That’s nice of you to say, but no. I owe you a lot more than an apology. I am a lot more to blame for everything that happened than either you or Charlie.”

  I cocked my head. “What do you mean?”

  “It’s ... well, it’s all water under the bridge at this point. Thank you for your grace. I’ll leave you to your breakfast.” With that, she turned and started down the driveway.

  I stood there, hanging on to the open door watching her go, feeling like something was unfinished.

  “Well, that was a nice gesture,” Mia said. She had moved next to me, and we were both watching Louise as she got into her car and drove away.

  “What do you think she meant by her being ‘a lot more to blame’?”

  Mia shrugged. “Who knows? As she said, it’s water under the bridge now. But maybe she did something or said something back then that she thinks put Jesse in danger. Or maybe she’s talking about how her overprotectiveness with Jessica is what caused Jessica to get so drunk and stubborn the night of the party. Or maybe both.” She met my eyes and half-smiled. “We all have to take responsibility for our choices in life. And, for over thirty years, Louise blamed you and your family for everything that went wrong in hers. It’s probably time she took a hard look at how she contributed to the events that happened.”

  “I suppose,” I said, but I still wished I could have asked her more questions. Maybe she could have shared some insight about Charlie, something that would help me resolve the two Charlies dancing in my head. The Charlie who had raised me and believed in me and loved me as a child and the Charlie who had purposefully poisoned her lover and buried him in the basement.

  Yes, she felt like she had no choice. But still, it troubled me. And maybe it always would.

  I moved to close the door when I saw a figure hurrying toward us. “Oh, look. It’s Daphne.” I waved.

  She didn’t wave back, seemingly focused on getting to us as quickly as possible. I frowned, glancing at Mia, whose face mirrored my expression. “Does she not see us?”

  “I don’t see how,” Mia said.

  We silently watched Daphne. She didn’t look happy. Oh God, was there something in this mess that had upset Daphne too? Was she angry? I’d have preferred Louise’s anger over Daphne’s.

  “I need you and Mia to come with me,” Daphne called out when she reached the end of our driveway. She was out of breath, her dark-red hair uncombed and unwashed, flying around in clumps around her paler-than-normal face.

  “Did something happen? Is your mom okay?” I asked, alarmed at her frantic appearance.

  She shook her head wildly, causing her hair to whip around. “No, it’s not that, I just ... I just need you to come with me. Mia, do you have to work?”

  “No, but what’s going on?”

  “Just ... come with me. Now. Before I lose my nerve.”

  I glanced at Mia. She looked as bewildered as I was.

  “Let me grab my keys,” I said.

  “And I need to grab my phone,” Mia said.

  Keys and phone in hand, I locked up the house and we followed Daphne. She didn’t say a word the entire walk, only shaking her head when we tried to ask her what was going on.

  I was getting a bad feeling.

  Daphne’s step quickened when her house came into view. She marched ahead of us onto the porch, unlocked the door, and went in, leaving the door swinging open behind her.

  Mia and I looked at each other.

  “When was the last time you were at her house?” I whispered.

  “It’s been years,” Mia whispered back. “Maybe even since high school.”

  What could have possibly caused her to bring us there today?

  Cautiously, I stepped inside the open door and into the foyer. Mia closed the door behind us.

  We were standing in a very clean, very comfortable-looking room that smelled like Daphne—of lavender and lemon. The furniture was old, but well maintained. The drapes were up, allowing the bright sunlight to fill the room. Off to one side was a short hallway that appeared to lead to the kitchen, which also looked clean and bright.

  Daphne paced around the scuffed coffee table, one hand twisting a strand of her hair. A laptop computer was sitting in the middle of it, next to a notepad, pen, and cup of coffee. I studied the room, feeling like something was missing but unable to put my finger on what it was.

  Mia cleared her throat next to me. “Ah, is your mom still asleep?”

  That was when it hit me. The room was too clean, too free of clutter. Where were all the pill containers and other medical paraphernalia that went hand-in-hand with caring for a sick parent?

  “I have no idea,” Daphne said.

  Mia and I looked at each other again. “What do you mean?” I asked.

  Daphne didn’t answer for a moment, as she continued her pacing.

  “Daphne,” Mia said tentatively. “Are you okay?”

  “My mother,” Daphne began, but paused to take another breath. “My mother is in a psychiatric facility.”

  “She is?” Mia’s eyes went wide. “When did that happen?”

  “Oh, I would say, about 13 years ago.”

  “Wait. Did you say 13 years ago?” I asked.

  “Daphne, can you stop pacing? You’re making me dizzy.” Mia said.

  “My mother,” Daphne said, without slowing her movements, “had a breakdown after Jessica disappeared.”

  “She did?” Mia was surprised. “Why didn’t you tell us?”

  Daphne slammed to a stop, facing Mia. “Because you were so consumed over what happened to Jessica, and how she had left without telling you, I couldn’t.”

  “What are you trying to say? That this is my fault or something?”

  Daphne reached up to press the heels of her palms against her eyes. “No, that’s not what I’m saying. Oh, God, this is harder than I thought.”

  I went to Daphne and gently took her arm. “Let’s sit. Why don’t you start with why you’re telling us now?”

  Daphne allowed me to lead her to an overstuffed blue coach and sat down. Mia settled herself in the more threadbare-looking armchair, her lips pressed together in a thin line.

  “My mother was Jesse’s secret girlfriend,” Daphne said.

  I could hardly believe what I had just heard.

  “So it’s true,” I said. “He did have a secret girlfriend after all.”

  Daphne nodded unhappily.

  “But, that means,” Mia said slowly, squishing her face up as if she was working out a particularly tricky math problem, “she was having an affair. Your mother was married to your father then, right?”

  “They were in love,” Daphne said, her voice low and scratchy. “She was going to leave my father that night. Run away with Jesse. But, something happened. I’m not sure what, but for some reason, she couldn’t meet him that night. So,
she stayed with my father, but it was supposed to be temporary. She was waiting for Jesse to call her, to come for her.

  “But he never did.”

  There was a long silence. I reached out to touch Daphne’s arm. “So she stayed. With your father.”

  “Initially,” Daphne said. She pressed her palms against her eyes again. “She was pregnant. With me. And no, she never told me Jesse was my father. I actually don’t think she knows for sure which one is my father, but,” she let out a harsh bark of laughter, “looking at me, I doubt it’s Jesse. Anyway, there she was, pregnant … without a clue as to where Jesse was, so I think she decided to make the best of a bad situation and stay with my father. I think that’s what made my father sick. He died from a broken heart. I don’t know if she told him about the affair, but I think he figured it out, and that’s what killed him.

  “What happened broke her. She never got over Jesse, but it wasn’t just because she loved him. I think ... well, she was always ... sensitive, I guess. She just knew things. You know? And I think she knew that something had happened to Jesse that night.

  “So, the night Jessica disappeared, that destroyed her.”

  I glanced at Mia, but her face was cold and still. “I don’t understand,” I said, trying to keep my attention on both of them at the same time. “Why would Jessica disappearing do that to her? Was your mom especially close with Jessica?”

  Daphne shook her head. “No. It was part of that ... psychic connection. She knew something darker had happened that night. Something that was somehow linked to Jesse. And, she just ... snapped.”

  Daphne lowered her hands and looked at both of us. Her eyes were puffy and smudged, like she had been crying. “I have that gift, too, you know,” she said quietly. “I can ... sense things, as well. See ghosts. Charlie helped me a lot, Becca. She helped me ... control it, I guess. My mother was no help.

  “Anyway, that night my mother just had a complete psychotic break. When I got home from the hospital, I found her curled up in a fetal position, covered in blood, rocking. She ...” Daphne swallowed. “She had cut herself and had used her blood to write on the walls.”