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

by Michele PW (Pariza Wacek)

“It’s not a threat,” I said, my voice rising as well. “I’m trying to help you. Something is going on here, Gwyn, and I think you need to be careful.”

  She shook her head in disbelief. “I can’t believe it. The nerve you have. Just you wait until I tell Daniel. He keeps saying I don’t have proof. Well,” she shook her fist at me, “maybe I should be thanking you. For finally giving me that proof.”

  I glanced around, realizing how many people were standing there watching us. I quickly scanned their faces, but I couldn’t tell if they were siding with Gwyn or not. The low murmurs certainly felt intimidating.

  Could the person doing all of this be standing there right now? Watching us?

  My skin ached to crawl off my body. I had to get out of there. Now. I let go of my cart and grabbed my purse. “I have to go,” I said, pushing my way past Gwyn, past the crowd.

  “That’s right,” she called after me. “You better run. I have everything I need now.”

  I pushed my way past the front door and nearly ran to my car.

  I went straight home. I had no idea what was going on, but one thing I was clear about was that I didn’t feel safe.

  Was I being set up? If I was, why?

  Could it be someone else in Redemption wanted me gone?

  Or ...was there something even darker happening?

  The evil that was done.

  Maybe I should just give up—just pack up and take the financial lifeline my parents were offering. Maybe my mother WAS right, and I would thank her one day, because it was the right thing for me to do.

  It seemed like every time I turned around, something bad was happening to me or someone I loved. Maybe what I ought to do was take the hint and leave.

  The sooner the better.

  I quickly drove home. The house was empty. Thank God. I didn’t think I could handle facing Mia or Chrissy right then. I dropped my purse and my phone and ran up the stairs.

  I ran all the way up to The Studio.

  My office. My art studio. My sanctuary.

  The place where I was happiest as a child. The place where all my dreams were supposed to come true.

  I paced around, too agitated to sit.

  Was I really going to give it all up?

  Finally, I calmed down enough to sit at my desk and fire up my computer. At the very least, I should email Jackie and give her an update. Let her know I didn’t have all the plants I needed in my garden for her tea. Maybe I should also tell her there was a good chance I would be leaving in a week as well, and that I had been premature in telling her I was starting the business up again.

  I paused and pondered the direction of my thoughts. Did I really want to do that? Disappoint her? Break my word?

  I thought about all the people I was going to let down if I packed up and left the coming weekend. Obviously, Mia and Chrissy would be the hardest hit, but I had also made commitments to Daphne and Daniel as well.

  Did I want to add one more broken promise to the list?

  I rubbed the back of my neck, feeling a sudden ache. Was there another way to do this? Support Jackie regardless of what I ended up doing? Was there a way to keep at least one of my promises, no matter what?

  I glanced around The Studio, looking for inspiration, when my eyes fell on Pat’s file in the recycling bin. Pat, the older woman who had insisted I make her tea before she was murdered. I had pulled it out of the customer stack earlier, as it was pretty clear she wasn’t going to be needing any tea anymore.

  Wait a minute. I HAD made tea for Pat—using Aunt Charlie’s old supplies. I had nearly forgotten about that. Aunt Charlie had a selection of dried herbs and flowers stored in glass jars stacked up in the closet in The Magic Room, which was now Mia’s school study.

  Of course. It was so obvious; I couldn’t believe I had forgotten. I didn’t need to buy plants or seeds. I could use up Aunt Charlie’s supplies, even if they were a little on the old side.

  The more I thought about it, the more sense it made. It would give me an excuse to reach out to old customers and get an idea as to whether they would be willing to buy from me, which would give me a much better gauge on how viable this business was. I could even turn it into an event, like a “getting rid of inventory sale.” And, if I was able to use everything up, I’d have one less thing to worry about moving, if I went that route.

  And if I stayed, I would have a much better sense of which herbs and flowers were the most popular, so I’d know what to focus on growing.

  Yes, going to the nursery was silly. What if I ended up leaving? What would I have done with those plants?

  This idea was so much smarter.

  I had been so lost in thought, I hadn’t noticed my email inbox filling up with mail. Well, I might as well clean it out before going to look for Aunt Charlie’s supplies. Once I had a handle on what I had to work with, I could figure out how much tea I could make. Maybe this plan would even buy me a little more time to get to the bottom of what was happening now in Redemption … while seeing if it made sense for me to stay.

  Another email from “Friend” was sitting right there in my inbox, waiting for me. This one didn’t have a subject line. I could feel my heart pounding as I stared at it.

  It had been sent that very morning, just like Gwyn’s second note.

  Could it possibly be related?

  I opened it.

  If you want to get to the bottom of your set up, be at The Grand Slam Sports Bar and Grill at 8:00 pm sharp tonight. Tell no one. You don’t know who you can trust.

  The house was so quiet around me, I could hear my breathing, loud and harsh, in my ears.

  It occurred to me, not for the first time, how alone I was.

  It would be so easy for someone to break in. No one would see. No one would hear.

  I pushed away from my desk and hurried down the stairs. I found myself searching each room, every nook and cranny.

  I was alone. Of course I was.

  But that didn’t change the email. Who was sending them?

  It couldn’t be CB. He was still in jail. How could he meet me at The Grand Slam?

  Unless ... he had help.

  Someone on the outside. Maybe one of his old buddies.

  That would make a lot of sense. If someone else was in town, watching and feeding him information, then it could be him after all.

  The thought made me almost giddy with relief. CB wouldn’t hurt me. The last time I saw him, he told me he was actually still trying to protect me.

  Maybe he really did have some information that could help me. Or, better yet, maybe he had some kind of proof that I could show Daniel—so he would know that I had nothing to do with stalking Gwyn.

  Yes, the more I thought about it, the more sense it made. Even the request for secrecy made sense. Chances were, CB wasn’t supposed to be sending me emails, so the fewer people who knew about it, the better.

  I firmly quashed the little voice inside me that still questioned whether it was CB or not.

  Of course it was CB.

  Who else could it possibly be?

  Chapter 12

  I heard the front door slam and Mia and Chrissy’s laughter as they walked through the house. Mia jumped when she saw me sitting in the kitchen. “Becca, you startled me,” she said. “Why didn’t you say something? Why are you sitting here in the dark?”

  It wasn’t even six o’clock yet, so it was hardly dark … but with the sun beginning its evening descent, the kitchen was filled with harsh shadows. Turning the light on would make it easier to see, sure. But I wasn’t interested in seeing. I just wanted to sit at the table, nurse the glass of wine in front of me, and think.

  I had a lot to think about.

  It had to be CB sending the emails. At the very least, he was surely the brain behind them. I couldn’t see anyone else using the phrase the evil t
hat was done.

  But who was the person setting me up?

  My mind kept circling back to the memorial service—Louise pledging to rid Redemption of evil.

  Could it be her?

  The more I thought about it, the more sense it made. What better way to get rid of someone than by ruining her reputation? Louise would set me up as a crazy nut from a crazy family. “Sure, she didn’t actually hurt Gwyn, but look at what her cousin CB did. And her husband Stefan. Who knows what depths she would sink to?” I could practically hear her.

  How could Mia and Daniel and Daphne continue defending me then?

  And, once I lost their support, why would I possibly stay?

  No, this really was a perfect set up. No one gets hurt, at least physically. And I would leave. For good. And once I was gone, my whole family’s taint on Redemption would also be gone.

  As for CB discovering Louise’s plan ... was it possible that Brittany said something to him? Brittany, Jessica’s niece and Louise’s granddaughter. Brittany, who CB had abducted.

  Maybe Louise was planning this weeks ago … right after Daniel and Gwyn broke up. And maybe she said something about it either to Brittany or in Brittany’s presence.

  Certainly possible.

  The official report was that CB had kept Brittany drugged the entire time he had her.

  But ... there still could have been pockets of time between dosages when she was lucid. Maybe she had said something to him. Or maybe she had even said something while she was drugged.

  It all made sense. The only problem with my theory was that I had no proof.

  And I absolutely needed it. Without proof, it all felt like a crazy conspiracy. Worse, without proof, I would be accusing and blaming Louise, a grieving mother and sister, of being a stalker.

  Louise deserved compassion, not accusation.

  And what if I was wrong? What if it was someone else, someone close to Louise, like a good friend or a different family member, who was doing it for Louise without her knowledge?

  I didn’t want to accuse an innocent person … especially one who had suffered more than her share of tragedy.

  No, I couldn’t tell anyone. Not even Daniel. Not until I had proof.

  You don’t know who you can trust.

  It was too risky to tell. So many things could go wrong, not the least of which was the anonymous email sender realizing I had told and deciding not to share his proof with me. I could blow my chance of ever finding out the truth.

  I needed more than a few cryptic emails before I told anyone. More than shadows, and feeling like I was being followed. More than Maude telling me to be careful, so I wouldn’t disappear.

  I needed more than the growing sinking feeling inside me that there was something bad brewing right beneath the surface.

  Something that couldn’t be seen ... yet ... but that was getting bigger and stronger every day.

  You don’t know who you can trust.

  The more I thought about it, the more I realized that I had no choice. I had to meet with the anonymous email sender. I had to get to the bottom of what was going on. I had to do whatever I could to save my reputation. This meeting was the fastest, best way to do it. And I had to go alone. I couldn’t risk jeopardizing the opportunity by telling someone.

  Besides, I would be meeting him in a public place. I would have my phone with me. I would be perfectly safe. Once I heard his proof, whatever it ended up being, then I could take everything straight to Daniel.

  On top of that, if Louise was behind it, which seemed more and more probable, I had no indication that she wanted me hurt or harmed physically. So, there was no reason for me to worry about being attacked. And CB didn’t want to hurt me. So, even if I wasn’t meeting in a public place, which I was, I should be perfectly safe.

  Chrissy pushed a styrofoam container in front of me. “Chicken potpie,” she said. “It was the special today. I made it from scratch. I thought you might want to try it.”

  I flipped open the container and inhaled the savory aroma of chicken, rosemary, thyme, carrots, and onions. “It smells wonderful,” I said, although my stomach was in so many knots, I wasn’t sure I could get anything down. However, I knew it would be good for me to eat something.

  Chrissy beamed and handed me a fork. Mia poured herself a glass of wine, watching my face closely. “Becca? Are you sure you’re okay?”

  I nodded, cutting off a piece of the flaky crust and putting it in my mouth. It was so buttery, it practically melted. “Wow, Chrissy, this is wonderful.” To Mia, I said, “I’m fine. Really. I’m just taking a little break from making tea all afternoon. It was nice sitting here in the quiet.”

  Mia didn’t look convinced, but she didn’t push. Both of them wore white shirts and jeans, the standard uniform for Aunt May’s employees. Both looked wrinkled, and Chrissy’s was covered with sweat stains. Wisps of her black-and-pink hair had fallen out of her ponytail and curled around her flushed and sweaty face. Her makeup was smudged, but her skin had a warm glow, like she was finally regaining her health.

  Mia, on the other hand, looked even more pale and exhausted than she had that morning. She picked up her wine glass and joined me at the table, slumping down in her chair.

  I took another bite. “Hard day?”

  “Just busy,” Mia said, taking a sip. “It’s my third double shift in a row, and I’m feeling it.”

  “Maybe it’s time to back off,” I suggested. “I know the money is good, but you don’t want to be this exhausted when classes start.”

  Mia checked a yawn. “You may be right. Tomorrow, I’m back to normal shifts for a few days. Maybe I’ll adjust my schedule.” She eyed me over her wine glass. “Daniel coming over?”

  I had taken careful pains with my appearance, fixing my hair and adding some makeup. “I’m meeting him for drinks tonight,” I said, praying Mia hadn’t run into him in the past couple of hours. I had already texted him to tell him I wasn’t feeling well and might be coming down with something. He asked if he should bring me some chicken soup, but seeing as I was trying to make sure he didn’t stop by for any reason while I was gone, I insisted Chrissy had me covered, and likely all I needed was a good night’s sleep.

  I had no reason to think Mia would suspect anything, other than her practically supernatural ability to know the latest gossip.

  “Sounds fun,” Mia yawned. “I’ll probably head off to an early bedtime.”

  “Smart plan,” I said, moving a couple of pieces of chicken around on my plate, trying to ignore the niggling feeling inside me that I was making a mistake by not telling Mia the truth. Not to mention I didn’t like lying to her. But what were my choices? I didn’t have enough time to explain everything that had been going on. And what if she insisted on calling Daniel, who would definitely insist on coming with me, thereby messing everything up?

  No, I decided, scooping up a fork full of food. It was too risky to tell. I could share everything with her after. Once I had the proof, everything would change.

  I was meeting the email sender in a public place, I reminded myself again. It would be fine.

  ***

  The Grand Slam Sports Bar and Grill was roughly a twenty-minute drive from my house, located between Redemption and a couple other towns off the main highway. It was large enough to house a pretty big crowd, which made it a popular destination even on a weekday night, especially when there was a big Packers, Brewers, or UW Badger game on.

  I figured it would be safe enough meeting my unknown email sender there.

  Nevertheless, I made sure to pack a full bottle of pepper spray and a flashlight with fresh batteries. I also made sure my phone was fully charged. I was taking no chances.

  I had left myself plenty of time, arriving at ten minutes to eight. As expected, the parking lot was about a third full, and there was a decent crowd inside. I sp
ent a few minutes loitering in the lobby, unsure if I should get a table or just wait, but finally decided I was likely calling more attention to myself if I didn’t get seated.

  I got myself a booth facing the door and ordered a club soda and lime. And waited.

  And waited.

  I watched groups and couples enter and leave. Every now and then, a single person would walk in and scan the crowd. I would hold my breath, wondering if this was finally the person, but then he or she would smile and wave and head over to another group.

  Over thirty minutes later, my club soda was gone, and I was reduced to playing with ice.

  How long should I wait? I had zero experience with this type of thing. It was past eight thirty, the sun had set, and darkness was descending.

  At quarter to nine, I decided I had waited long enough. The waitress had even apparently forgotten about me, as she hadn’t been back since depositing my club soda. I threw down a few bills, figuring they should cover everything, and slid out of the booth.

  Long shadows stretched across the parking lot. A pale moon had risen in the distance. I pulled my keys out of my purse in the doorway of the bar, fighting feelings of disappointment and anger. What a waste. I drove all this way for nothing. Those emails were probably nothing but spam. The joke was on me. I had been so desperate to get to the bottom of Gwyn’s stalker situation, and I had been so sure it had to be Louise (or someone connected to her), that I had allowed my emotions to override my common sense.

  I unlocked the car and slid inside. All was quiet and still. Not a soul around me. I twisted the keys in the ignition and maneuvered my way through the long, curvy road that connected the parking lot to the main highway. I had to turn sharply to avoid a pick-up truck parked on the side of the street.

  Why would anyone park a car there, I fumed to myself. Talk about unsafe. As I passed, I glanced over at it, wanting to see if the driver was inside, so I could tell him how unsafe it was to park there.

  Well, in the mood I was in, maybe it would be less “telling” and more yelling.

  However, it seemed I would be thwarted even from that small victory. The truck appeared to be deserted.