The Evil That Was Done (Secrets of Redemption Book 3)

by Michele PW (Pariza Wacek)

  I was having trouble breathing. The cloying scent of perfume and flowers was sticky in my nostrils. Sweat trickled down the small of my back and between my breasts, probably staining the dark-green dress I wore (black looked awful on me, so I didn’t even own a black dress). Unfortunately, as beautiful as the dark green was, it was also a magnet for sweat stains.

  I shrunk back as far as I could against the wall while searching for an escape route. But there were too many people crammed into the church, and now, everyone was shifting around, glancing uneasily at one another. I would be noticed for sure. I had no choice but to stay put.

  “I WILL make it my life’s work,” Louise continued, “to rid this town of the evil that has descended upon us. Even if it’s the last thing I do. I pledge upon the soul of my brother and daughter and all the rest who were taken too soon, I WILL free Redemption of this evil. Thank you again for coming.”

  She put the mic down and marched back to her seat, head held high. Her husband, clearly embarrassed, thanked us all and invited everyone to a reception in the church basement.

  Yeah, I would definitely be skipping that.

  Jessica’s family left first, and then the rest of the church slowly began to trickle out. I kept my head down, letting my hair fall into my face, praying no one would recognize me so I could simply sneak out to my car.

  It was taking a really long time to empty the church. I saw Daphne and Mia standing in the aisle, looking shaken with a grim expression on their faces. Off to the side, another teenager leaned in close to Chrissy, whispering something in her ear.

  What was taking so long? As the crowd inched their way to the door, I finally couldn’t stand it any longer. I stood on tiptoe to see what was going on.

  Horror filled me. People were paying their respects to the family, who were all lined up on the other side of the door.

  Oh no.

  Maybe once I got closer to the front, I could slide my way past without anyone noticing. It was worth a shot.

  It felt like I had been trapped in that church for hours and hours, the perfume scent so strong, it was palpable. Shouldn’t I be nose blind by now? I tried breathing out of my mouth, but felt like I was gasping. I was so hot, I was almost lightheaded. Next to me, the two younger children were whining. One had to go to the bathroom, and his mom kept snapping that he was just going to have to hold it.

  This was worse than any nightmare I’d ever had.

  I tried to make myself relax. After all, getting worked up wasn’t going to get me through the line any faster. But that didn’t stop me from constantly craning my head to track our progress, searching between the crowd to get a sense of what I could expect.

  As I was checking, I spotted a familiar dark-blonde head. Daniel. He was deep in conversation with someone. Someone shorter than him.

  Someone with white-blonde hair.

  Was that Gwyn? Why was he talking so earnestly with Gwyn at a memorial service?

  Maybe it was perfectly innocent. Like he was giving her an update on Ellen. Ellen and Gwyn were friends, after all. It would make sense for her to ask Daniel for the latest news.

  But still ...

  The crowd shifted, and I lost sight of them for several moments, despite my best efforts. By the time the people moved, and I could see again, they were gone.

  See. He gave her an update and that was that. They both went on their merry way.

  So what if I couldn’t see either of them anymore? It didn’t mean anything.

  God, this was all too much. I fidgeted with my purse strap, feeling even more impatient than the eight-year-old in front of me who had to go potty.

  Finally, a glimmer of hope—I had just about reached the doorway. Maybe I could squeeze past the family in front of me and sidestep through the door. Louise’s attention would be directed toward that family, right? Kids were a natural distraction. I should be able slip past unseen and unnoticed.

  Except I didn’t take into account the power of a tiny bladder.

  “I’m so sorry,” the mother said, barely through the door herself as the boy tugged frantically at her arm. “I need to take Jimmy to the bathroom. I’ll be right back.”

  “Of course,” said Louise, before politely turning to the next person in line.

  Me.

  She saw me and froze. As did I. We stared at each other for a full minute before her face darkened. “I can’t believe you had the gall to show up here, uninvited and unwanted,” she hissed.

  Her husband put a hand on her arm. “Louise, I invited her,” he said firmly.

  Her head whipped around, a horrified expression on her face. “You? How could you do such a thing? You know she’s responsible.”

  “Louise, we know no such thing,” her husband said, his voice patient but exhausted, like they were rehashing an old and tired argument. “It’s time we put the past behind us. Jessica is gone, and thanks to Becca, we now know what happened.”

  “Becca is the reason she’s gone,” Louise said incredulously.

  “And,” he continued, refusing to let her interrupt him, “we also should thank her for saving Brittany.”

  “Saving Brittany,” she snorted. “Her whole family is to blame for all of our troubles. Why can’t you see it? Redemption would be better off without her.” She whirled back to me, stepping closer until her face was so close to mine, I could see the dried foundation in the creases of her skin and smell the overwhelming, sickening floral scent of her perfume. “You may have Bill over here bamboozled, but I know the truth, little girl. And I’m watching you. One wrong step and ...” she shook her fist, her eyes gleaming with the sheen of madness, a faint spray of spittle hitting my cheeks, “you’ll regret it.”

  I backed away as her husband yanked her toward him. “Louise, just stop it,” he said, but she ignored him, keeping her eyes on me. “Why don’t you just move away?” she called out. “Be the one person in your godforsaken family to do the right thing and just go.”

  I turned and hurried out of the church as fast as I could, keeping my face down in the hope of being inconspicuous. I didn’t think I could bear it if I saw others agreeing with Louise, backing her up. I could hear the murmurs from the crowd as I pushed my way though. Louise hadn’t been quiet with her accusations. Everyone in that lobby must have heard. I was mortified.

  I shoved the door open and stumbled outside into the parking lot. The air was still—not even a breeze to provide any relief. I could smell the hot asphalt that shimmered beneath the bright sun.

  Every part of me wanted to run to the safety of my car, but I forced myself to pause, take a breath, and smooth out my dress before I walked across the parking lot. Mia’s and Daphne’s voices echoed in my head. If I was serious about making Redemption my home, I needed to stand tall and keep my head high. If I showed I could be cowed, I would never be left alone.

  A few people mingled outside, but I ignored them as I headed to my car. I had been invited, I reminded myself. I had a right to be here. No, it didn’t work out the way I had hoped, but I had been invited.

  Finally, I reached my car. I paused and took another breath before unlocking the door. I was invited, I repeated to myself, feeling the tears prickling the back of my eyes. I was.

  I reached down for the handle, wincing at how hot it was. God, it was going to be an oven inside. I should have parked in a better spot, like where that blue pickup truck was parked, under the cooling shade of a tree. That person was smart.

  I slid into the driver’s seat and quickly twisted the ignition key so I could open the window. I felt drenched in sweat. I decided then and there to get one of those covers for the windshield to keep the sun from baking the interior.

  I paused one more time before putting the car in reverse, wanting to get myself under control. Louise was just one person, after all. Just because she wanted me gone didn’t mean I should leave.
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  But, still. A part of me couldn’t blame her. I was responsible for what happened to Jessica. Maybe it would be better for everyone if I left.

  Get it together Becca, I told myself. Mia and Chrissy most definitely didn’t want me to leave. Or Daphne. Or Daniel. An image of Daniel talking to Gwyn popped into my head. At least, I assumed Daniel didn’t want me to leave.

  Enough of that. Sitting in a hot car in a parking lot was silly. I should go home. I had plenty to do.

  I backed out of the spot and slowly drove out of the lot, eyeing the blue pickup under the shade of the tree as I drove past. What was it about that truck? There was something tickling my memory, but I couldn’t place it.

  A movement caught my attention. Something dark. A shadow darting behind the rear bumper.

  I blinked and the memory clicked right into place--the parking lot of A Good Yarn. A dark shadow disappearing behind a blue pickup truck.

  Was I being followed?

  I craned my head, trying to drive while getting a better look, but I saw nothing.

  What was going on here?

  My cell phone buzzed. I assumed it was Mia or Daphne, checking on me, and I waited until I was stopped at the next light before digging in my purse to retrieve it.

  It was Daniel.

  Need to talk. Can you meet me for dinner tonight?

  Chapter 6

  I stared at my phone, a cold feeling of dread starting to form in the pit of my stomach.

  “Need to talk?” Why? What did that mean?

  Images of Daniel and Gwyn in the church danced in my head. Was that what he wanted to talk to me about?

  A loud horn jolted me out of my thoughts, and I dropped the phone on the passenger seat. The light was green. I quickly pressed on the gas, waving apologetically to the cars behind me.

  What I really wanted to do was pull over right then and there, so I could call Daniel and insist he tell me right now what was going on.

  Instead, I restrained myself. I could wait a few hours and meet him for dinner. I didn’t need to call him and demand answers on the phone. Just like I could also wait until I drove home before texting him back to accept the invitation.

  I didn’t always have to assume the worse, I told myself, after parking, texting him, and heading into the house. Maybe it had nothing whatsoever to do with Gwyn or the memorial service. Maybe it was good news, even. Oh, who was I kidding? Since when did anything that started with the words “Need to talk” turn out to be good news? A more reasonable explanation was that it had nothing to do with me at all, and he actually just needed to talk.

  That was probably it.

  I put my keys and purse away, feeling even more edgy than before. Clearly, my pep talk wasn’t working. Maybe what I needed to do was focus on something else. Something physical. Like getting The Studio ready. That was a good idea.

  I started hauling boxes down to the basement. Eventually I was going to need to go through everything, but not today. It felt more important to get the space ready, so I could actually start the business. Sorting through old boxes would likely send me down a rabbit hole and actually keep me from getting the business up and running.

  I didn’t need any more distractions. I was nervous enough as it was.

  I had to shift things around the basement to make the boxes from The Studio fit. I had forgotten the basement was already filled with junk—a couple of tables, what looked like an old still to make alcohol, even an ancient looking chest freezer shoved in one corner. I wondered if it even still worked.

  As I pushed boxes against one of the walls, I noticed a crack in the basement floor. My heart sank. Did that mean there was a problem with the foundation? A problem that would cost me a lot of money to have fixed? Tentatively, I touched it. It seemed solid, like it had been there for a while. I’d keep an eye on it, but hopefully, that was a good sign.

  It took me the better part of an hour, but I got the rest of the boxes and old furniture out of The Studio and into the basement. My back ached and my knees were weak and shaky, but I felt triumphant. The Studio felt so open and spacious.

  Like a fresh start.

  Now, I just needed a little help moving the desk, the filing cabinets, and one of the love seats from the family room up all those stairs, and I’d be set.

  I still had a little time before my dinner with Daniel, so I decided to send an email to Jackie. I fetched my laptop, opened it, and clicked on my email program.

  Before I typed out the email to Jackie, I took a moment to clean out my inbox. Most of it was spam, although I did have a couple from friends in New York. One of these days, I was going to have to let them know I wasn’t coming back. But, after glancing at the clock, I decided today was not that day.

  I continued clicking through—delete, delete, delete—thinking how crazy email had gotten. Like the one with the subject line, “I have a secret.”

  Clever, I thought. I’m intrigued.

  I noticed it was from ‘Friend.’

  Surely, if I clicked on it, it would notify me that I’m now in line to receive a million-dollar inheritance from someone I’d never met. Or maybe that I had been “caught” watching porn, or some other spam.

  I clicked on it to delete it, but I accidentally opened it, and my hand froze.

  There was only one sentence.

  The evil that was done.

  The icy touch of fear crawled down my spine as I stared at the words. There was nothing else. No signature. No links. No nothing.

  Who could have sent it? And why?

  It had to be someone who knew me. There was no way some spammy stranger could have happened upon that sentence by chance. Besides, what would be the point? There was no link to click on, so if it was spam, it was pretty lame.

  So, who did I know who knew about that sentence?

  Chrissy had said it. Of course, she was sleepwalking at the time, and I wasn’t sure she remembered saying it. And, even if she did, would she realize the significance? That Jessica had said it years ago, the night she had disappeared? I didn’t think so.

  Speaking of Jessica, everyone at the party had heard her say it that night. Mia, Daphne, Rich, Daniel, Barry.

  And CB.

  CB had also said it to me the day I visited him in prison, along with a bunch of other stuff … like how he had spent his life “protecting” me, although he never did specify precisely what he had been protecting me from.

  I studied the subject line. I have a secret.

  CB had made it clear he knew things I didn’t. Things that he was “protecting” me from.

  Could he have sent this from jail?

  That made the most sense. It seemed clear he wanted to keep me beholden to him, and let’s face it—making me afraid would certainly help do that.

  Well, if that’s what he thought, he had another think coming. I was done allowing my fear to control me. I was taking control of my life.

  I deleted the email, then thought the better of it. Maybe it was better to keep it in case I needed it later for proof. I dug it out of the trash and stuck it in my CB folder. To cheer me up during my first divorce, CB used to send me funny, inspirational emails. I created a folder to save them, so I could read them during my “dark nights of the soul.”

  Somehow, it seemed fitting to add this email to that folder.

  I glanced at the clock, did a double take seeing how late it was, and was about to sign off to jump in my second shower of the day when I remembered why I had turned my computer on in the first place. Quickly, I sent Jackie an email, then closed everything down to get ready to meet Daniel.

  ***

  I stood outside Mario’s, nervously smoothing down the gold tunic I had paired with black leggings. Leggings seemed like the best choice for these unspecified outings I kept having with Daniel.

  Was this one a date? Or ...
what?

  Yes, I was meeting him for dinner. But it was because he needed to talk, which sounded official and not at all like a date.

  On the other hand, what “official” business would he have to talk to me about now?

  My mind went back to him and Gwyn, heads together at the memorial service. Maybe he had changed his mind about dating me after all. The thought depressed me, even as I tried to tell myself that it would likely be for the best.

  Still, if that was the case, why would he bother meeting me at a restaurant? He couldn’t possibly think I would make a scene. Right?

  Well, rather than stand outside and speculate, I could go in and have him tell me. That would make sense.

  But I didn’t move. It felt ... safer outside. Not knowing.

  Despite my earlier knee-jerk reaction to immediately call him and demand he tell me right then and there, maybe I didn’t really want to know after all.

  I took a deep breath, inhaling the rich, delicious scents of hardy, made-from-scratch Italian dishes. My stomach rumbled. It felt like I hadn’t eaten in days, but I remembered having a chicken salad sandwich before the memorial service. Man, that seemed like a long time ago … especially as I stood there smelling the delectable scents of fresh basil, oregano, garlic, onion, and pasta.

  Yet, even the lure of a wonderful meal wasn’t enough to entice me to open the door.

  I’m not sure how long I would have stood there in the dark, cocooned in a pocket of moist, flavorful, humid air, if the sound of a car door slamming and laughing voices from behind me didn’t jolt me out of my stupor.

  I gave myself a quick shake to clear my head and opened the door to the restaurant. The last thing I wanted was for them to see me and start wondering if Aunt Charlie’s niece was as weird as Aunt Charlie was.

  I found Daniel waiting for me at a table. He wore a navy-blue polo shirt, which I loved … it made his dark-blue eyes pop. He smiled when he saw me. I did my best to smile back as I wiped my sweaty palms one last time on my tunic.