Page 77 of Whispers of Wisteria
“Where does that door go?” Detective Kohler’s question rang through my ears.
“Downstairs.”
“The basement,” Titus answered with me.
His jaw tightened. “The door is reinforced with steel. It took some time to open, but it only led to a cellar. The room was preserved from the fire, but there was nothing except rotten food.”
I couldn’t suppress my shudder. “There are other rooms,” I whispered. “It leads downstairs.”
“What’s downstairs?” Detective Kohler asked.
I couldn’t answer.
Uncle Gregory’s voice softened. “You don’t have to say everything at once. Just tell us what you remember.”
I pointed to a staircase. I couldn’t stop my finger from shaking. “My room is that way, but I don’t like going over there.”
“You don’t need to go,” Titus reminded me.
“And you have a room,” Damen chimed in. “At our house.”
Their reassurances helped, but only slightly. Technically, I was living at his house. Still, their words were enough to pull me back from the edge.
I moved through the rest of the first floor, pointing out various things that stood out, until I suddenly stopped.
“Oh,” I said. My vision blurred.
Damen squeezed my hand. “What’s wrong?”
“This is where I met Jonathon and Abigail.” I blinked and wiped my eyes with my covered wrists. “They were meeting Mr. Richards there.” I pointed to a door near the front of the lobby. “I was sneaking in when J-J-Jason caught me. W-we were fighting again, and they c-came out to see what was going on.”
“Who’s Jason?” Detective Kohler asked.
I jumped as Titus moved closer. He crossed his arms and narrowed his eyes at some invisible spot in front of him.
“You started shaking when you said his name,” he told me.
I… did?
I pressed my hands to my cheeks. My skin was wet… but from what? Even now, it didn’t feel like I was crying. And why was it so cold?
“Who is he?” Damen asked. “You’re not even this scared of Eric Richards. Was he one of the boys?”
“J-Jason?” My voice squeaked. “No!”
I began to wring my hands together. They could never know everything, but “He—He’s Mr. Richards’s son.”
The room shifted.
Titus frowned. “He has a son?”
I pressed my fingertips to my lips.
“You said you fought him like you did it often,” Damen said.
“Um…” My heart was racing. “It—it’s not like I can beat him. But…” I looked at my hands.
“That—that doesn’t matter,” I said. “I—I still tried. We were together all the time.”
