Sixty-Two: You’d Better Sit Down

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.