Love Me If You Must

39

The hammer hit the side of my hand. I flinched and sat up on the hard concrete floor, sucking the skin to stop the sting. In my side vision, the light from the basement window dimmed momentarily, as if someone had just walked past.

I froze, listening. The thump of feet up the back steps blended with the pounding of my heart. What if it was David, coming back to finish me off? I was already in the grave. All he had to do was conk me in the head like he had Martin Dietz, throw a little concrete on top, and no one would be the wiser.

I didn’t want to make it that easy for him.

A knock sounded on the back door.

Maybe it wasn’t David. I couldn’t imagine him being so courteous after my intrusion earlier today.

I picked my way out of the cistern and jumped off the ledge onto the basement floor. A twinge in my ankle reminded me of my lingering injury. I hurried upstairs despite a throbbing ache, brushing the concrete dust from my knees along the way. If the murderer figured out I was excavating last year’s kill, I’d be joining Rebecca permanently in the cistern.

I turned the corner at the top of the steps and gulped to see Officer Brad, in uniform, standing at the back door.

My shoulders sagged. I’d been so close to proving my body-in-the-basement theory. If only Brad had come a couple hours later. Instead, I’d be carted off to jail just a few wallops shy of proof that I hadn’t killed Martin Dietz.

I slumped across the kitchen and opened the door.

Brad looked great in police blue. Everything shone right down to his boots.

“I’ll just grab my toothbrush,” I said and turned to go.

“Wait. Why?” The gravelly sound of his voice grabbed at my heartstrings. Pressure built in my temples as I tried not to cry for what might have been, what could have been.

“Aren’t you picking me up?”

“Did you need to go somewhere?”

“No. I thought you were taking me back to jail.”

“Oh. That. No. I was just doing my rounds and wanted to check in on you. Make sure you were safe.” He smiled. “No more dead bodies or leg injuries. That kind of stuff.”

I stared at the lines in the corners of his eyes. “I’m okay. I guess.”

My heart raced. Maybe Brad could help me. Maybe if I told him what I’d found in David’s garage, he’d believe me that Rebecca was buried in my basement.

“Do you want to come in a minute?” I asked.

He shifted his weight. “Sure. I’d like to see that everything’s secure.” He came in the kitchen. “After all, if you didn’t kill Dietz, someone else did. And I’d hate for you to be the next victim.”

“Thanks. I’d rather not be the next victim. Care for some water?” I loved my dispensing unit. No worries about arsenic poisoning for me.

Brad walked to the machine and helped himself to a cup. He took a sip, then scrunched up his nose. “Smells a little funny. I think I like the tap better.”

“Just be careful. You don’t want death by heavy metal. That’s what arsenic is, you know.”

He pitched his water in the sink and filled his cup from the faucet. He took a swig. “That’s better.”

“Whatever.” I sipped my tasteless, odorless, filtered beverage, wondering what he had up his nose.

We talked about the snowstorm the weatherman called for while I avoided his eyes.

He set his cup down. “I’m going to take a quick look around.” He headed for the cellar.

“Oh, no.” I waved my hands and raced toward him. “No, you don’t need to check anything. That door stays locked.” I grabbed his arm, immediately sorry to have touched him. I put my hands in my jeans pockets.

“Okay. I’ll just check around outside.” Brad headed toward the back door.

“Great. I’ll go with you.” I slipped on my coat and followed him into the yard. The air was icy, a welcome change from the heat inside.

Brad walked around the front first.

“So have you heard from Rebecca lately?” I asked in a casual voice.

Brad stopped his inspection and looked at me. “I told you, we don’t correspond.”

I waved my hand. “I just wondered if there was any juicy gossip now that the divorce is final.”

His jaw clenched. “You would know more about that than me.” He turned the corner onto the driveway, checking out the upstairs windows.

“I was talking to Dorothy the other day, and she made it sound like you and Rebecca were pretty close.” Not entirely accurate, but Brad could call my bluff.

Brad smirked. “Rebecca liked me close, all right. Every chance she had, she’d call the station for assistance. And request me by name.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah. The chief thought it was pretty funny. I caught a lot of flack from the guys. No one was under the illusion that she actually had feelings for me.”

“No one but you?” I whispered.

Brad stared at the ground. “I knew better. I really did. But I guess when a woman throws herself at you like that, you can lie to yourself to make it seem like more than it really is.”

“Did you love her?”

“I guess I loved what she could be. She’s beautiful, smart, talented. But her heart is . . . I don’t know. Warped or something.” He gave a sheepish smile. “It’s foolish to try to fix people, isn’t it?”

“Yeah. I guess it is.”

“Anyway, Rebecca’s gone. Only God can fix her now.”

His words shook me for a minute. “Oh, you mean gone to L.A.,” I said.

He squinted at me. “What did you think I meant?”

I gave a nervous giggle. “Oh, nothing.” I rubbed my arms against the chill.

We got to the back corner of the house. “Look,” I said pointing to a circle of gravel. “That’s the dry well they put in last year.” The dry well consisted of a three-foot-diameter by seven-foot-deep hole filled with gravel. All the drain tile on the exterior of the house, as well as the new sump pump, emptied into the well, preventing the basement from flooding again.

“I know. I worked on the project, remember?” Brad said.

“You worked on it? I thought you were just called in to baby-sit when Dietz went ballistic.”

“I did my share of hard labor. Rick and Jan were good neighbors. I didn’t mind helping out around this place when I could.”

“Really? How come Jack didn’t mention it?”

“Because he’s Jack. Besides, he was probably embarrassed. Half the time I was called out to David and Rebecca’s renovation project was because Jack was hanging around Rebecca and she wanted him out of there. Jack probably blames me that he didn’t get very far with her.” Brad grinned.

“How far did you get with her?” Yeah, I was jealous in a juvenile way.

“Far enough to ask her to go to church with me.”

“Did she?”

“Turned me down flat. Once she quit laughing.”

“Ouch.”

“Yeah, ouch. But that’s good. I shouldn’t have been going that route. Some people you just stay away from. I should have been like Joseph running from Potiphar’s wife. Instead, I got all wrapped up in trying to convert her. But if she wants to be dead, that’s not my problem.”

I took a step backward. “What do you mean, ‘dead’?”

“Spiritually dead. Sorry, too much Christianese.” He ran a hand through his hair. “What I mean is, she thinks she’s in control of things . . . and she’s not. It’s only a matter of time before she crash-lands.”

From everything Brad said, I figured Rebecca had already crash-landed—in the cistern. Her husband David had done a stellar job pretending Rebecca was still alive. But there was no doubt in my mind she was stone-cold dead.