Chapter 20

Twenty

D ahlia

I’ve been pushed and pulled down into the basement by my struggling attacker, and now the rope around my wrists has been looped and tied to a chair in a dark corner of the basement. My lantern was left overturned upstairs in the struggle, and the only light comes from a pen light gripped between my attacker’s teeth, which seems like poor planning to me.

I can hear the person breathing and muttering about some nitwits forgetting to leave the duct tape for her to use. Something about this tells me this was not a well thought out plan to capture and do god-knows-what to me and Blake. Oh god, I hope Blake is OK. I have to fight the lump in my throat and focus on my escape.

“Who’s there?” I ask.

A moment passes before a familiar female voice replies. “I suppose it doesn’t matter that you know who I am, because you’re not getting out of here alive.”

I don’t know why she’s doing this to me, but I know who the voice belongs to.

“Amanda? What in the world?”

“Shut up,” she replies coldly. “Where’s the money?”

“What money?”

Amanda huffs in exasperation, and in the next moment I feel something cold and metal against my throat. She’s not good at tying rope, but she’s got a gun, which significantly reduces my chances of getting out of here.

“I should be in Mexico by now. This house was supposed to end up in probate court and the county was going to take possession for back taxes owed. But crazy old Esther had to go fuck it all up because her husband decided to screw us over at the last minute.”

The familiar cold snap fills my lungs again, but this time, I don’t feel that sense of dread from earlier. Instead, I feel an odd sense of understanding. Either that or I’ve lost my marbles out of terror.

“Amanda. Put the gun down. You don’t have it in you to kill me.”

“What I don’t have is patience, you stupid girl,” she says. “I know Esther figured it all out and must have told you where the money was. Where is it?”

I honestly don’t know about any money, but I think my best bet to stay alive is to play along. I close my eyes and try to think what Esther would want me to do right now.

“Esther never told me about any money, but I’m happy to help you find it, Amanda,” I say calmly, doing my best to keep my voice from shaking. “Tell me more about it and maybe something will ring a bell for me.”

I hear her fidgeting in the dark. In that space of time I realize where I am. I’m sitting on the antique chair in the corner of the basement, and the rope Amanda has used to tie me up is from the noose that had been hanging from the joist. A fresh wave of terror washes over me and I struggle not to hyperventilate.

“If you let me help you, Amanda, you won’t have to kill me. I won’t breathe a word, I swear.”

Finally, she spills it. “John Milton was going to help us. And then he didn’t.”

“Help you with what?” My fear is starting to subside because I’m dying of curiosity and because she’s no longer pressing a gun against my skin. Although, in the dark, I can’t see exactly where she’s pointing it.

“Mason Construction approached the mayor and me several years back, looking for an incentive not to move out of town. More people were moving into town and commercial taxes were going up to help pave roads, add more emergency services. Mr. Mason didn’t like that. He employed six hundred people here at the time, so we knew that we’d lose the election if we let that company go. The council wasn’t going to listen to reason about the tax incentives the mayor proposed, so we secretly cut them a deal. We’d make sure they’d win all the city’s project bids. We let the company know how low to bid in order to win.”

I’m confused. “Lowballing every project in town doesn’t seem to be much of a monetary reason to stay put,” I say.

Amanda replies, “But cost overruns and change orders add up over time, and pretty soon the city was overpaying for everything. And in return, Mason gave the mayor and me a percentage. Not huge amounts—a little here, a little there. And in order to hide the paper trail, the mayor and I cut in John Milton, too. He was the city finance director at the time, as I’m sure Esther told you. He stowed the money here.”

My mind is racing as it processes all of this information. “Here? Literally here in the house?”

“Why do you think I’ve been so willing to help you organize and plan this ridiculous Fall Festival? Out of the goodness of my heart? No. When that house went to your silly little department, I needed to keep an eye on you.”

“I don’t understand. You never saw any of the money in all those years?”

“We did, in the beginning. But then John got himself a conscience at some point and stopped. He threatened to go to the police. The only reason he didn’t is that he knew it would ruin Esther. Then one day, he just couldn’t take it anymore. He went down to the basement and never came back up.”

A shiver runs through me. “The rope. The chair. Oh god.”