03 - Organized Grime (17 page)

He was asleep.

Meanwhile, I couldn’t stop thinking. If only I could turn my brain off sometimes. But I couldn’t.

I thought about Tim. I thought about that dreadful day he’d been taken. My whole world had been shattered. So had my mom and dad’s. We’d never exactly been a normal family, but, after that day, we’d gone downhill quickly.

I’d known it was my fault. I should have been keeping a better eye on Tim. I shouldn’t have ever turned away. But I had. And then he was gone.

Days and weeks passed and there was no word on him. There were no leads. It was like he disappeared into thin air.

Slowly, our lives had returned to a new normal.

But it never felt complete. Never.

Halfway into college, my mom found out she had cancer. I dropped out of school so I could take care of her. Meanwhile, my dad drowned his sorrows with his new best friend, Jack Daniels.

It was strange because I’d dreamed for so long about what it would be like to have Tim back. And this scenario was never a part of my dreams. I thought I’d be elated. Instead, I still felt guilty.

I mean, had my dad really searched for Tim every day? All I’d seen him do was drink.

Perhaps I should do what I did best. Whenever worries overwhelmed me, I just poured myself into being nosey—yes, I poured myself into other people’s problems.

And there were plenty of other people’s problems to distract me. Facing their reality seemed better than facing my own.

I slipped out from underneath Riley’s arm, pausing just one moment to watch him. Now that I thought about it, he kind of reminded me of Zac Efron from High School Musical. They both had the same hair—a little too long, the same blue eyes, the same awesome smile.

How was I ever so lucky that Riley had actually wanted to date me?

Again, I needed to stop thinking about myself and focus on other people. Isn’t that what the Bible said to do? It probably wasn’t meant quite that way, but still.

I found one of my little spiral bound notebooks. Call me old school, but I still liked to spell things out using pen and paper sometimes.

I needed to make a list of all of my suspects. Maybe writing everything down would help to sort out this crazy mess.

First suspect: Crazy Stalker-Painter…code name: Becca Bowling. Who was she? I had no idea. What was her motive? Again, I had no idea. But she was there, in my life, shadowing me and painting pictures depicting my history. That made her a suspect in my book.

Second suspect: Lydia Harrison. She would have the most to gain by her husband dying. But she’d have nothing to gain by bombing his building, unless he had some kind of insurance policy that would guarantee them more money.

Third suspect: Mark Daniels. What was his connection with Lydia? Was someone paying him off? Was that reason to murder?

Fourth suspect: Clifford Reynolds. He’d definitely acted suspicious at the Go Green meeting and he seemed to be avoiding me like life avoided the Grim Reaper.

Fifth, and perhaps mostly likely, suspect: Bruce Watkins. He marched to the beat of his own drummer, to use a cliché. And he was fanatical about the environment. He’d possibly written the how-to manuals for ecoterrorists everywhere. Seemed a good suspect to me.

Final suspect: Broken Arrow. He was definitely up to something. But what? What did he know? Was his Native American tribe bent on revenge?

And who was that person that Henry—I mean, Tim—had mentioned to me? Sierra’s friend, Tree? I’d be paying him a visit tomorrow.

I guess I could cross off Henry—Tim? How long would it take me to get used to that?—off my list of suspects. But that still left me with a lot of people to wade through.

I looked at the list and sighed again. I don’t think I’d ever had so many suspects, or so few leads. There’d always been at least one front runner in my mind. Looking at this set of people, no one jumped out. Was there someone I was missing?

And where was Sierra in all of this? I closed the notebook. Maybe tomorrow I’d get some answers. For now, I’d go back to staring at Riley and marveling at the fact he was my boyfriend.

I ever-so-softly traced his jaw with the backside of my fingers. He was one in a million, the man of my dreams.

So why did I feel inadequate? He’d never made me feel inadequate.

I’d been in enough bad relationships to know a good relationship when I saw one. What Riley and I had was good.

So why did fear linger in the back of my mind?

“Are you trying to seduce me?” Riley popped an eye open and grinned.

I slapped his arm playfully. “You know me so well.”

His arms reached for me and pulled me toward him. He tucked my head under his chin. “Do I even want to know what you’re thinking?”

“I’m just awestruck that we’re together.”

“Awestruck? Wow. I like that word. But you’ve got to know that I’m the lucky one.”

I pulled back and looked him in the eyes. “Why are you lucky?”

He straightened some. “Because you’re spunky, you’re caring, you’re gorgeous. You don’t take things at face value but you search for the truth yourself. You don’t let anything stop you from getting what you want—in a good way, not a run all over people way.” He squeezed my hand. “You’re my Gabby.”

My face warmed at his sincerity. I tucked my head back under his chin, content to be “his Gabby.”

***

Tree Matthews agreed to meet with me for lunch the next day. I pulled into a parking garage in downtown Norfolk and then hurried across traffic until I reached a popular restaurant located on the Elizabeth River. In the evenings, it transformed into a bar that beckoned those into the nightlife scene. But right now, the place was just a restaurant full of business men and women, taking their lunch breaks.

I spotted Tree in the corner sipping on some water. He was just as I remembered. Tall and thin with sandy brown hair. In fact, his frame kind of reminded me of a barren tree in the winter. Stick thin and all limbs.

He nodded when he saw me, but didn’t even attempt a smile. “Gabby.”

I slid into the booth across from him. “Tree. Thanks for meeting me.”

“Any word on Sierra?”

I shook my head. I wouldn’t even mention those phone calls she’d made to me. I didn’t know if I could trust him yet, and I didn’t want to offer any more information than necessary. “No, I have no idea where she is or what happened.” That was the truth.

“Why did you need to meet with me?”

“Rumor has it that you were one of the last people who saw her.”

He shrugged. “I don’t know when she disappeared, so I don’t know if that’s true or not.”

The waitress came but I waved her away, not wanting to waste any time. Instead, I leaned across the table. “Look, it’s like this. I can go to the FBI with that tidbit and they can question you themselves. I’m giving you the chance right now to set the record straight. I know you saw Sierra before she disappeared. Were you the last person?” I shrugged purposefully. “I don’t know. That’s what I’m trying to find out. So why don’t you tell me where you were last Friday?”

He looked in the distance and drew in a tight breath. He’d always seemed a bit brittle and uptight, but even more so today. “I did see her on Friday. She came by my place.”

“Why?”

He ran his hand over the condensation on his glass. “She wanted to pick up some papers from me.”

“Papers that told her how to build bombs and use them for ecoterrorism purposes?”

Just barely, and just for a millisecond, I saw his eyebrows flicker in surprise. “Yes, I did give her those papers, but not on Friday.”

“Why in the world would you give her those papers? She’s not the bomb building type.”

His gaze flickered up to me. “You’re right. She’s not. She wanted to get the information out of my hands so I didn’t do anything stupid.”

“So you were thinking about bombing something? Harrison Developers, perhaps?”

He shook his head. His gaze looked burdened…or guilty. “It’s not like that.”

“Tell me what it’s like then.”

His nostrils flared again, and he remained silent a second. He pushed back in the booth and, for a moment, I thought he might flee. Instead, he sighed. “It’s complicated, Gabby.”

“That’s what everyone keeps telling me. Make it uncomplicated.”

“She didn’t want me to do something I’d regret. She came over to talk me out of it.”

“Did it work?”

He paused again before nodding. “It did. I saw the error of my ways.”

“Why do I feel like there’s more to this story?”

His gaze shifted again. The action made him seem untrustworthy. “She left after giving me a verbal lashing. I haven’t seen her since then.”

“Do you have any idea where she went after she left your place?”

“No.” His gaze shifted again.

“I don’t believe you.”

“What do you want me to do? Lie to you? I don’t know.”

“There’s something you’re not telling me.”

“You’re grasping at straws. I’ve told you everything I know.”

“Don’t you even care that your friend is in danger?”

He tapped the table and stared at me. “I do care. I don’t want her to get hurt.”

“So tell me more.”

He stared at me another moment, and I thought he was going to tell me something that would blow my investigation out of the water. I stared back, waiting, trying not to break the moment. He opened his mouth, but then shook his head. “That’s all I know. That’s it.” He stood up and tossed some money on the table. “Take care, Gabby.”

I leaned back into the booth and closed my eyes. Really? I’d have more luck trying to infiltrate the mob than I was having trying to break this case.

My cell phone rang, breaking me out of my raging thoughts. I saw the number listed as the Norfolk Police Department. Interesting. Why were they calling me?

With a lead in the case? Like I’d be that lucky. But still, a girl could dream. I popped the phone to my ear. “Gabby St. Claire.”

“Gabby, it’s your dad.” His voice sounded strange. Low, mellow…craggy with emotion.

My alerts instantly went to red. “What’s going on, Dad?”

“Gabby, I need you to come down to the police station.”

I straightened in the booth, feeling as rigid as Tree had looked. “Are you okay? What happened?”

“I need you to bail me out.”

I froze, my thoughts screeching to a halt. “Bail you out? Dad, what’s going on?”

“I was arrested for drunk driving.”

Chapter Twenty-Three

I glared at my father from across the table in the police precinct. I shouldn’t have paid his bail. I should have let him rot in jail. So why didn’t I? Why was I here, making life too easy for him again?

“Let’s go.” I started toward the door, not bothering to check if he was following me.

Unfortunately, he was. Outside, he climbed into my van. We sat there in silence for several minutes before I finally found some words.

“What happened? I thought you’d turned over a new leaf?”

He looked terrible with his red-rimmed eyes and unshaven face. His wrinkles even seemed deeper today. “I thought I did too. I don’t know what happened. Teddi and I got into a big fight. I did what I do best. I started drinking, hoping to drown out my troubles.”

I tapped my finger on the steering wheel, trying to rein in some patience. No luck. “Did it work?”

My dad openly cried again. I’d never seen him cry before this week, and now I’d seen him weep twice. I didn’t have any tissues, so I handed him a fast food napkin, the best I had at the moment. He blotted his eyes and blew his nose with enough force to wake an army. “I shouldn’t have done it. Old habits are just so easy to fall back into.”

My compassion was running low today. “You said you were past this.” I started my van and pulled onto the street, my patience also depleted apparently.

“I thought I was past it.”

“You could have killed someone.” Didn’t he know how serious drunk driving was? I knew he did.

“I know.”

“You’re going to have your license taken away from you, and I’m not going to drive you around everywhere, Dad. I’m done with this.” I sliced my hand through the air. “You’re a grown man. I’m sorry for all the bad things that have happened to you in life, but do you know what? Bad things have happened to me too. I lost my mother. My brother was kidnapped. I had an alcoholic for a father. Do you think those things were easy? Do you think I wanted to drop out of college? Did you think I wanted to give my freeloading father money to pay his bills because he claimed he couldn’t work himself?”

My dad started to say something, but I forged ahead. I jammed my finger into my chest with enough force that I nearly flinched. “Why did I do that? I did it because I felt guilty. I felt like it was my fault you were like this. If I had just kept an eye on Tim that day, you wouldn’t have turned to alcohol. I thought that you were my fault.”

His wrinkles on his face seemed to ripple with pain as he grimaced. “I’m sorry, Gabby. I’ve been a terrible father.”

“You’re right. You have been. And then you said you turned over this new leaf, that you were a new person. Your son is back in your life even. You have no excuses.” I pulled up to a red light, fuming. I could feel the steam coming out of my ears, and I knew I should stop myself. But I couldn’t. I’d bottled these things up inside me for years. Maybe this wasn’t the way I should express them, but it might be my only shot.

My dad opened his door and stepped out onto the street, between the cars at the light.

“What are you doing?”

“I’m sorry, Gabby. I won’t mess up your life anymore.” His voice crackled as he slammed the door and walked away, dodging traffic.

I lowered my head onto the steering wheel. I’d really screwed that one up, hadn’t I? Dad was trying to do better and I’d raked him over the coals.

I closed my eyes, my head pounding.

Should I follow him? Chase him down and apologize?

The car behind me pressed on their horn, so I had no choice but to turn—away from my dad. Maybe it was best that way.

***

“You sure you’re okay, Gabby? You’re not acting like yourself.”