I motion for
her to follow me out back, away from the cameras. Grabbing a lawn chair, I
invite her to sit. She slowly eases into the chair. After telling Leah
everything I know, she sits speechless for a bit and then speaks.
“I just
can’t believe this is happening to you. And why would Troy use your shed to
hide the drugs when he has a basement he could have hidden them in. And – ”
"Hold
on. You’re right. He does have a basement. Why would he choose our shed?"
I try to wrap my brain around that question.
“Could your
shed have been a secondary place to stash the drugs and money and his basement
the primary place?” My eyes widen in shock but then realize.
“Oh my God,
Leah. The basement has always been off-limits, Deanna told me. She said Troy
was building something that might harm the kids, so he kept the door locked.
Even Deanna didn’t have a key, which she thought was odd, she told me, what
like 2 years or so ago. I didn’t prod because she was in a hurry – I was coming
back from my walk and her to take the kids to school. She kept saying Troy’s
been acting weird. Have you noticed? I said I hadn’t, but I also hadn’t seen
him very often lately. It was a quick conversation. I think it was close to
when the kids were getting out of school.” I wrack my brain for that memory to
see if anything else pops out.
“Trice, I
hate to say this, but I bet the basement is where the rest of the drugs and
maybe even money are hidden.” I yank my neck to the east, as if I could see
through my walls and into the neighbor’s home.
“We have to
search it.”
“We? Oh no,
you’re not roping me into this again, and you shouldn’t do this either. Contact
Gray and let the police handle it.”
“How do I
know I can trust them? Not Gray or Lopez, but Holder. Remember, he could be
dirty. If I tell Gray and it somehow gets back to Holder, who's to say he won’t
risk it and try to find the drugs himself and then kills us to tie up loose
ends. But, no, I wouldn’t involve you. Brock and I will do it.”
“How? People
live there now. How are you going to get into their basement without getting
caught? Trice, this is insane talk. It’s also quite a stretch to think there’s
drugs and money stashed away.” I barely hear Leah as I concoct a plan I had to
tell Brock about now.
“Leah,
sorry, but I need to talk to Brock.”
“Trice …
“came the warning voice.
“Please,
just don’t utter this to anyone, even Trevor.”
“You know I
have kept all your secrets, but this is so dangerous.”
“I know, but
I’m tired of waiting around for justice to make an entrance.” I lay back and
close my eyes. “Lee, I want my life back. I want to see my kids and grandkids.
I want to go outside and plant some colorful flowers and not be looking over my
shoulder, wondering when we’re next, you understand?”
She touches
my shoulder. “Of course I do. I just worry about you. Please be careful.”
“I will – we
will. With Brock by my side, I know I’m safe, but should something – “
“Don’t say
it.”
“It’s a
possibility. If it does happen, be our voice. Promise me,”
“Trice …”
“Promise me,
Lee. You know everything. Everyone should know too.”
Leah turns
and hugs me tightly. “You know I will.” Tears slide down my face, and I hear
Leah sniffling, and I know she’s crying too.
“Thank you.”
As soon as
Leah leaves, I wait for Brock to come home from the store so I can tell him my
plan. He’ll know if it’s crazy or not.
I wait
another 30 minutes, and when he walks through the door with the bags, I help
him put everything away and then say, “We need to talk.” We go out back where I
was talking to Leah.
He looks at
me and, in his eyes, I see fear. “About what?”
I tell him
what Leah and I deduced about the neighbor’s basement.
“You could be
right, but Trice, how are we going to get inside to find out?”
“Well, I
have a plan.”
“Uh huh. I
gotta hear this,” he says, folding his arms.
“I whip up a
batch of brownies and then we go next door when it’s nighttime and when their
kids are hopefully in bed. With a plate of brownies in hand, we ring the
doorbell, practicing the neighborly art of introduction. Apologies flow for our
tardy greeting, and we extend the sweet offering.
Once inside,
amid casual conversation, I'll strategically ask to use their restroom. That's
when I'll discreetly check the basement door, gauging its accessibility. If
it's locked, we'll pivot and brainstorm another approach. If it's ajar, I'll
seize the opportunity, slipping downstairs to survey the layout and open any
windows obstructing our entry. We’ll return later under the cover of night and
come through the opened window.”
I observe
Brock's reaction, awaiting his response. He throws his head back and laughs,
and I can't help but roll my eyes.
"Trice,
I love you, but you watch too many Lifetime mysteries," he teases, and I
playfully slug his shoulder.
"Okay,
hotshot. Come up with your own plan," I challenge.
"Why do
we have to do anything? It’s stupid, risky, and oh, yeah, dangerous. Did
I leave anything out?" Brock argues.
"Yeah,
it’s the only way to see if more drugs have been hidden," I counter.
"And
what if we find them, then what? We tell Gray we know there’s hidden drugs in
our neighbor’s basement. Oh, wait, how do we know? Well, we broke into their
home and found them. Is that OK?" Brock says, highlighting the flaws in my
scheme.
I deflate,
realizing he's right. "If I tell Gray of my suspicion, he may laugh at me
too."
"Or he
may believe you and check it out, you know, with a warrant," Brock
suggests, seeing my frustration. "Listen, I know you want this to end and
for justice to be served. But we have to do it legally."
"Brock,
what if Holder finds out? I still don’t trust him."
"Then,
we bait him. Let him find out and then lure him to the basement, all the while
Gray is watching. We’ll know if he’s involved if he takes the bait. Remember,
the mouse doesn’t go after the food, it goes after the smell."
"Your
point?"
"You’ve
heard the saying. 'The smell of money,' right? If Holder is dirty, we bait him
with the smell."
"And
what would that be?" I lean in, intrigued.
Brock
smirks, his eyes glinting with a mischievous spark. "We create a scent of
opportunity, something that screams wealth. Cash. Stack it up, leave a few
bills out where he can see them. Nothing too flashy, just enough to make the
air in that basement whisper 'fortune.' It's a universal language, Trice. The
scent of green can either make someone's hunger rise or expose their greed. If
Holder takes the bait, we'll know we've got him right where we want him."
I have to
agree; his plan makes more sense than mine. "Okay, it’s time to tell
Gray."
I pull out
my phone and call his private number. It’s his day off, so I’ll probably catch
him at home or out with his wife, which is why I sound apologetic when he
answers, and I tell him we have to talk, first telling him to bring Holder along so we can gauge his reaction when I discuss the possibility of drugs and money being hidden in our neighbor's basement.
“Just
finishing up dinner. Give me 20 minutes.” I hear noises in the background and
wonder if he’s at a restaurant, which makes me feel even worse that I’m
interrupting his one day off.
We go back
inside and into the foyer to wait. I pace back and forth, peer through the
shades, then go back to pacing, waiting for Gray.
“You’re
going to wear a hole in the carpet,” Brock pipes up, sitting on the straight-back Victorian peach couch we got from Paris, surfing on his laptop. We hardly
ever come in here, and I just notice some of the paint peeled off the front
wall.
"Now
that he’s coming, I’m second-guessing the basement theory," I admit.
Brock puts
his finger to his lips to shush me. I forget that we can still be recorded.
As soon as
Gray arrives with Holder, I bite my tongue. This is all part of the plan, I
tell myself. They both go through the house, scanning for cameras. They find
two more: one in our bedroom hidden under a fan blade by the light and the
other in the living room between two portraits partially hidden by the TV. I
shiver at the thought of someone watching us in our most intimate room. I steal
a glance at Holder, trying to read him.
No
expression.
“So, what’s
up?” Gray says.
I explain
for the second time today. After I finish, Gray rubs his chin while Holder
shows, what, a tiny smirk?
“Well, I’ve
heard of crazier things.” I watch Gray watch Holder, knowing that he’s looking
for the same thing I am: a little anxiety or even excitement.
Nothing.
A little
disappointed but not surprised, I turn it over to Brock for the plan. This
time, I see something, a glint of anticipation in Holder’s eyes.
We got him.
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