“Alessa!” I call out in a louder voice than I had been using thus far, but she doesn’t respond.

  She either didn’t hear me or is choosing to ignore me.

  I should leave. This is the line I refuse to cross. Every time I’ve been in this basement, something terrible has happened. I won’t go through it again. I just won’t!

  I pace the area in front of the basement’s entrance, willing her to come out on her own. But of course, she doesn’t. That would be too easy.

  My heart is racing so hard that I feel it pounding in my throat.

  “Come on, Alessa,” I say aloud to myself. “Get out of there.”

  For five solid minutes, I don’t hear a sound. No footsteps, no shuffling around or rifling through things. Nothing. Then, I hear Alessa’s blood-curdling scream.

  “Alessa!” I shout.

  Acting on sheer impulse, I move quickly down the stairs, fumbling with my phone to turn on the flashlight. It’s a large basement, but I know all the ins and outs by now. I don’t care what she says or thinks. I’m grabbing her, pulling her upstairs, and we’re getting the fuck out of here.

  “Alessa! Where are you?!”

  I reach the bottom step, and just as I shine my phone light in the direction of Alessa’s scream, all the basement lights turn on. I momentarily squint until my eyes adjust to the bright overhead lights.

  Looking around, I don’t recognize this basement at all.

  It’s not the dark, unfinished, sinister basement that I remember. Everything down here is different. There is furniture. The floor is no longer concrete but a sort of laminate. The wall colors are freshly painted a cheery lavender color. The basement has been finished out and remodeled.

  If I didn’t know better, I would say the space is…pleasant.

  “I could live down here!” Alessa squeals when she approaches me from the right side.

  I force an annoyed exhale. “Oh my god, Alessa. You scared the piss out of me. You have no idea how close you came to—”

  “Seriously, Sarah,” she interrupts. “You said it was big, but I had no idea. This house is massive!” She drags her fingers along the wall and soaks in the sight of the room around us. “What do you think the square footage is of just this basement alone?” She waves a hand out casually. “Actually, who cares? Square footage doesn’t matter. What matters is why you would ever let something this impressive go? Especially after having received it from my dad…for free.”

  Here comes that lump in my throat again.

  She continues, “If my father had gifted this house to me, I would have never let it go, regardless of what happened here.” She tilts her head and looks at me curiously…and suddenly I’m fully aware of just how alone we are in this basement.

  CHAPTER 18

  Sarah

  It’s been two solid minutes since the lights came on. I haven’t moved an inch. I’ve inhaled and exhaled seventy-eight times. I began counting my quickened breaths the moment my foot touched the basement floor, just like my doctor taught me to do when I feel a panic attack coming on.

  This basement may look different now, but the atmosphere is still the same here.

  Death is still here. I can smell it.

  “Uh, hello? Earth to Sarah?” Alessa snaps her fingers in my face. “Geez-us, girl. Are you all right?”

  I could respond, giving Alessa the standard, “I’m fine,” and breeze past this moment as if it never happened. But I won’t let myself do that because nothing about this situation is fine.

  Bringing Alessa here was a mistake, and I see that now. I should have stayed out of this.

  I never should have followed her inside this house.

  Alessa is a beyond-middle-aged woman, like me. She has a navigation app available right there at her fingertips, just like everyone else. I could have given her the address and sent her on her merry way, avoiding having to drive by this house or risking Alessa getting out of the car to break into the house, and then the basement. I never wanted to be down here again on my own accord, let alone for someone else’s.

  I’m screaming inside.

  If Alessa is so curious about this basement, just leave her here and go back upstairs.

  I thought my poor decision-making days were behind me. How can I be intelligent enough to create new compounds and solutions in the lab every week at work, yet somehow never be able to just go with my gut instinct in dire situations? It’s like being equipped with all the tools to build a rocket, but then forgetting where I parked it, and taking a cab instead because that’s what is readily available in front of me. It doesn’t make any sense.

  “Seriously,” Alessa scrunches her brows as she examines whatever confused frozen expression I have on my face.” Should I call a doctor or something?”

  She has no idea.

  My phone chimes again. The sound of a text message. Although I can’t bring myself to look down at the screen, the noise does snap me out of my trance.

  “Sorry.” My apology comes out automatically, even though I know I have nothing to be sorry about. “It’s just that it is a lot to be back inside this house after all these years, but even more overwhelming to be down here.” I motion to the room around us.

  Alessa’s lifted shoulders relax, and she lets out a sigh of relief. “Ah…is that what’s happening here?”

  Finally, she gets it without me having to explain.

  A grin spreads across Alessa’s face. “Don’t worry, I used to have a little anxiety myself back when I was a teenager. My dress strap snagged just before prom. It was a borrowed dress I took from the store for free-ninety-nine, know what I mean?” She uses her elbow to nudge me playfully, but I’m not in the mood. “Come on, Sarah. Don’t give me the ‘I can’t believe you stole’ look,” she scoffs. “I was going to bring it back after the dance until that snag happened. My night was completely ruined.” Alessa is almost chuckling at her story. “So, please, believe me when I say, I know exactly how you feel.”

  Tightening my lips into a line, I force air through my nostrils. “I don’t think you know how I feel right now,” I add, not hiding my annoyance. “This situation is more intense than a teenager breaking a strap on their stolen prom dress. You have no idea what I’ve been through,” I snap.

  She raises her brows and tosses her hands up. “If you want space, all you have to do is ask.” She turns on her heels and walks deeper into the basement.

  Suddenly, all I can hear is the sound of my own heavy breathing once again.

  I can’t be down here anymore.

  I turn and lift my foot onto the first step toward ascending the stairs when I hear a clinking sound coming from the back of the basement, where Alessa just disappeared to. The sound is familiar, like pulses of lightning jolting my veins with every clink.

  There’s no mistaking what it is.

  The sound grows louder as it gets closer.

  “Look at this.” Alessa turns the corner, partially holding and partially dragging a long, thick metal chain. The same metal chain that my late father clasped around my ankle when he threatened to keep me locked in this god forsaken basement.

  “No,” I say under my breath, as my chest caves in and out rapidly.

  Alessa is all smiles as she holds up the end of the chain with the metal cuff attached. “Looks like something straight out of a horror movie, right?”

  Clutching my hand to my chest, I gasp for air.

  Without giving her an explanation, I bolt up the stairs and out of the basement.

  CHAPTER 19

  Sarah

  Other than the few old barstools at the counter, a couple of random metal chairs, several empty wooden bookshelves, and mattresses on the floor in the bedrooms, all the other furniture that came with the house when I lived here has been removed. I’d rather not sit on this questionable wobbly barstool that may or may not hold me, but I need to sit down.

  I rush toward the chair and sit. Folding my body forward, I rest my head between my knees and focus on my breathing. Another way my doctor showed me to regain control when experiencing a panic attack.

  Inhale…one-one thousand. Exhale…two-one thousand. Repeat.

  Alessa’s footsteps echo as she climbs the basement stairs. I don’t look up when she approaches me.

  “Oh my goodness, Sarah! One minute you are standing there, and the next you are looking like you are going to vomit or pass out. I thought you said you were okay. Do you need water or something?” She comes to her own conclusion before I have the chance to say anything. “I’ll bet there are some extra bottles in the fridge left from the realtor when they did the open house,” she says, marching toward the refrigerator. I hear the door swing open, and she squeals when she peers inside. “Oh, goodie! We have water, and some prepackaged cookies.” I hear her tug on the freezer door, and her voice muffles when she talks into the cold space as she examines it. “We also have two empty ice trays, and a what looks like a ziplock baggie full of ice, straws, and mini plastic bottles. Weird.”

  With my head still between my knees, I can only assume the crinkling of bottles and wrappers is the sound of Alessa removing items from the fridge.

  Focus. Breathe. Focus on your breathing.

  Overlooking that she has not only broken into this home but is now stealing from the new owners, I realize that Alessa is only trying to help. If she were the lunatic I started to suspect she was, would she be taking the time to help me through my panic attack?

  “Here,” Alessa says, holding a cold water bottle against my forehead. “Drink this, then put the cold bottle against your head. That’ll help.”

  For the first time, I glance up at her, and she smiles down at me.

  Alessa is an odd duck. Her reactions to things seem backward to me. She is unfazed when something is catastrophic, but has an explosive reaction to the little things. She’s weird about people touching her phone, and I feel like she has been purposely lying to me.

  But right now, she seems completely normal.

  I take the bottle from her hand and bring the cool liquid to my lips, then sip. I briefly close my eyes and focus on the present rather than the past or future. The water quenches my thirst while simultaneously melting my anxiety away. For the first time since she walked into my life, Alessa is actually helping me. Her constant calls and texts are tiresome, and her forwardness can be slightly intimidating at times. But at this moment, it’s as if she knew exactly what to do to pull me from this suffocating place I’m in. And I’m grateful that she’s here.

  She waits for me to settle before she asks, “Better? Do you need one of those cookies, too?”

  A warm smile spreads across my face when she says this.

  “I’m okay, thank you.”

  She steps back to eye me from head to toe. “Hmm, that’s what you said in the basement, and then this happened.”

  She rests her hands on her hips.

  I let out a light laugh under my breath. “I’m sure. I promise, I’m okay now. Thank you. The water helped a lot.” She raises one eyebrow, as if she doesn’t believe me. I let out a soft sigh of relief. “I’m good, Alessa.” She finally concedes with a nod.

  I had my doubts about her, but I’m starting to rethink the impression Alessa is making on me. I don’t think she is the crazy person I am expecting her to be. She had a few rather impulsive moments, but who hasn’t? She seems like a run-of-the-mill, average, normal person.

  As genuine as I can be, I add, “I’m glad you found me. I’m not sure how I would have gotten through that had you not stepped in. You handled that situation like a pro.”

  Alessa puts a hand over her heart.

  “That might be the nicest compliment I’ve ever received,” she replies, tilting her head. Water builds in her eyes, and she turns away from my gaze. “Aw, dammit,” she says with a hint of sarcasm. “Now I have to go track down some tissues in this big empty house.”

  I smile as Alessa leaves the room, walking down the hall. I hear the bathroom door open, then shut. “None down here. Going to check around the house,” she calls out before I hear footsteps ascending the staircase.

  Taking one last deep breath, I stand up and make my way back to the main living room. We’ve spent enough time here on memory lane for one day. It’s time for us to get out of here. The weather is looking grim outside and could take a turn for the worse at any moment. By moving to the living room near the front door when Alessa comes back downstairs, it’ll be easier for me to get her out the door.

  My phone chimes again. I glance down and see the notification for another missed call from Alexis…and now a missed call from Hollie. The frequency of Alexis’s calls is already concerning, but now, a missed call from Hollie, too? Something is going on.

  I need to call them back.

  My thumb hovers over Alexis’s name in my phone, but suddenly the front door handle jiggles slightly. I swivel my head to look at it and freeze when I see the handle twisting, just seconds before someone pushes it open. My heart thuds rapidly against my chest when two people enter the house, looking me squarely in the eye.

  They freeze when they see me, and I’m still unable to move.

  “Um, hey?” The tall, broad-shouldered male says with uncertainty in his tone. “I’m not sure if the information online has been updated yet. It’s only been about a week, but our offer was accepted,” he gestures to himself and the woman behind him. “We just bought this house. The open house has closed.”

  Relief floods me. This is why I came here—to talk to them, the owners. To warn them. I was hoping Richard would be here with me when I ripped this bandage off, but it doesn’t matter now. I have to take advantage of the opportunity laid out for me on a silver platter.

  The man looks around the room. “We are actually supposed to be meeting our realtor here right now. He was going to remove the key box from the front door. Is he here?” His gaze breezes over me, then down the hall. “I would have thought your realtor would have said something.” He looks over me again. “You are here with a realtor, I assume? Right? That’s how you got in? The keys in that black box?”

  He looks at me, and there is a slight concern in his arched brows.

  Did we technically use the box to get inside?

  “Actually, yes. I got the keys from the box, but I was hoping to run into the owners.” I nod and gesture toward them. “My name is Sarah.” I begin and hold out a hand.

  “Nice to meet you, Sarah.” The female shakes my hand, returning a smile. “I’m Carly, and this is my husband—”

  “Ian?” Alessa blurts when she enters the room.

  “Alessa?” Ian responds in a low whisper.

  An uncomfortable silence falls over the room.

  Alessa knows the new owners? Am I surprised at this coincidence? IS THIS a coincidence? Just when I thought I was getting somewhere with Alessa, another surprising curveball. Why does it feel like I’m always out of the loop with what’s going on with her?

  Furrowing her brows, I watch Carly’s eyes dart back and forth from her husband to Alessa.

  Hmm…looks like I’m not the only one out of the loop.

  CHAPTER 20

  Sarah

  “So…” Carly drags out the word. “Is someone going to share how you two know each other?” Carly says, lifting her brows at Ian and Alessa.

  Folding her arms over her chest, Carly waits for one of them, either of them, to speak up.

  It’s difficult to read her. She looks annoyed, but not in a “jealous girlfriend” way. All four of us appear to be about the same age here, far too mature for all that high school drama. Her unwavering glare in her husband’s direction is giving “I can’t believe it has been three minutes and no one has voluntarily offered up this information” vibes.

  Honestly, I’m just as curious as she is.

  How does Alessa, the woman who traveled here from West Virginia, know Ian, the new owner of MY old lake house in Tahoe, California? It’s too convenient. Could it be another coincidence? I doubt it.

  Something feels very wrong here.

  Alessa’s eyes shift from Ian to Carly, then back to Ian. She’s giving him a worried look, as if they’re trying to decide what to say. They exchange messages without words. Finally, Alessa takes a deep breath and lets out an awkward laugh.

  “It’s a funny story, really,” Alessa begins. “You see, Ian and I, uh…” She tucks a rogue strand of hair behind her ear and sways from side to side. I know what she is doing. I’ve used that same tactic before. She’s stalling. “We met years ago.” All the words come out at once, and she nods insistently as if this answer should be enough to satisfy Carly’s question.

  “Uh huh.” Carly widens her eyes and bobs her head up and down slowly.

  Her sarcasm is transparent.

  Carly continues, “Right, yeah. It seems clear that you two know each other from the past. We covered that when you called out my husband by name. Anyone care to share how you two know each other?” Carly shifts her gaze to her husband. “Ian?”

  Ian shifts the weight of his body from one leg to the other. “Of course, babe.” He smiles at his wife, then drapes his arm over her shoulder in a protective way. “Alessa and I, we—”

  “Went to the same high school,” Alessa blurts, and Ian’s body stiffens. “Just a couple of high school acquaintances.”

  Carly furrows her brows. “Okay? That doesn’t help because I went to the same high school.” She puts a hand on Ian’s chest, claiming him. “High school sweethearts.” Glaring at Alessa again, she adds, “I don’t remember you.”

  “Well, we are in our fifties now,” Alessa laughs uncomfortably. “High school was a long time ago.”

  You don’t have to have perfect vision to see what’s happening here. Alessa and Ian are hiding something.

  Carly doesn’t appear convinced.

  “Freshman year,” Ian clarifies. “Alessa was at our school the year before you transferred in.” He looks down at his wife. “She was only there for a year, then transferred out sophomore year, the year you transferred in. You wouldn’t remember her because you never met.”

 

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