03 - Organized Grime (6 page)

“I’m flattered,” Riley muttered. “But I thought the agreement when I signed up for this was that married women weren’t allowed to participate. You’ve put me in an awkward position, Ms. Harrison.”

Go Riley. Go Riley.
I mentally did the Cabbage Patch dance. I knew he’d stand up for his principles.

“I sign the divorce papers this week, darling. I’ll make sure our date is after that. You’ve got morals. Just one more thing that makes you adorable.” She placed her hand on his chest and a husky giggle escaped. Or was it more of a growl, like that of a lioness claiming her territory?

“Well, I’ll be more comfortable with the arrangement after the divorce is finalized.”

She ran a finger over his cheek. “Oh, it will be. I’ve been counting down the days until I can distance myself from that man and it’s finally in reach. I can already taste my freedom.”

I crossed my arms over my chest. “He couldn’t be that bad, could he?”

The scowl appearing on Lydia’s face was all the answer I needed, I suppose. “You have no idea. All he cared about was his work. He treated his stupid cars better than he treated me.”

My arm muscles softened some. “I’m sorry to hear that. It must have been very difficult.”

The scowl disappeared. “It’s nearly done with now, and I don’t want to talk about him anymore.” She looped her arm through Riley’s. “I’ll be in touch. Thanks for being such a good sport.”

As she sashayed away, I glanced up at Riley and we shared a shrug.

I cleared my throat, trying to swallow the bitter taste in my mouth. “As Lydia said, I guess the best girl won.”

Riley looked down at me. Was I just imagining it or did his eyes soften? “Then why am I going on a date with Lydia instead of you?”

My cheeks actually warmed. Was Riley flirting?

“You’re obviously too expensive for a girl like me.”

He titled his head. “It depends on how you define wealth.” He squeezed my arm. “There are things far greater in life than money.”

I felt myself blush and knew I had to change the subject before my I-could-care-less-who-you-date façade crumbled. “She’s too old for you.”

Riley didn’t break eye contact. “She’s too married for me.”

“What are you going to do?”

He looked away to sigh. “I don’t know. I’ll figure it out. I just have to preserve my integrity and character in the process.”

I looked around for a second, trying to collect my thoughts. My best friend would soon be on the FBI’s most wanted list and here I was daydreaming about romance. Why did men make women do stupid things? I straightened, pulling myself out of airhead mode.  “I’ve got to get out of here. This is not my kind of function.”

Riley loosened in his tie. “Me neither. Let’s go.”

He put his hand on my back and led me from the pack of cougars toward safety.

Chapter Seven

I got a call at nine o’clock that evening to go to a crime scene and clean. Some people considered getting their houses back in order after a tragedy a top priority. No waiting until the next morning. They wanted all evidence of the horror committed to be gone as soon as possible, as if scrubbing away the blood would somehow wash away their pain. If only it was that easy. But if me cleaning up for them would give them some peace of mind, then why not?

I hesitated as I started down the steps of my apartment building, trying to be quiet and not disturb Riley. But I’d only gotten three steps down when his door opened and he popped his head out.

“Where are you headed at this hour?”

I pivoted. “Going to a job.”

“Is Chad still out of town?”

I nodded.

He scowled. “Then I’m going with you. I thought we’d already discussed this. Going to crime scenes alone isn’t a good idea. Especially if your name is Gabby St. Claire.”

I shrugged. “I know you have a busy week. I didn’t want to bug you.”

“You never bug me, Gabby. Can you wait a couple of minutes for me to get my shoes? I want to go with you.”

“Only if you insist.”

“I do. What’s the job this time?”

“Homicide. Stabbing, to be more specific. I don’t think it’s going to be pretty. At all. You sure you’re up for this?”

“I won’t be able to sleep tonight if I think you’re there alone.”

“You might not be able to sleep at night if you see this crime scene.”

“I see a lot of stuff every day on my job, Gabby. Ugly stuff. I’ll be okay.”

Yeah, but lawyerish ugly stuff was a lot different than the ugly stuff I saw. I kept my mouth shut, though, grateful to have someone come along with me. Crime scenes at night could be … spooky, to say the least. And I had almost been killed at a couple of the locations, so there was that consideration also.

“I’ll be right back.” He disappeared into his apartment.

“I’ll be waiting in the van.”

Riley knew that I had a nose for trouble and, bless his heart, he tried to look out for me. It was a big job, one that very few people were equipped to do. He made it so easy to fall in love with him, even though I knew we were so different as people.

As I passed Sierra’s door, my heart panged. Where was my friend? What was she doing? Was she okay?

The more I thought about the situation, the further I concluded that something was very wrong. Sierra was smart. She would turn herself in if she’d done something wrong. She would allow herself to be questioned rather than hide from authorities. The only reason she might be hiding was because…because she was in danger. I was convinced of it.

I climbed into my van, shivering down to the bone at the cold temperatures outside. I must have left something in the back of the van because the stench inside was enough to make me gag. No sooner had I started the van and cranked the heat did someone stick his head between the seats.

“What’s up, Gabster?”

I screamed and clutched my heart. That’s when I got a good look at the “intruder.” I lowered my hands and my racing heart slowed. “Henry? What are you doing? Why are you in my van?” The smell. I should have known.

“I don’t have anywhere else to go. The FBI is looking for me.”

I gave him my best “duh” expression. “You think? So you thought you could hide in my van? Where’s Sierra?”

“I don’t know. I was hoping you could help me find her.” He smacked his bubble gum. I didn’t even want to know where the freegan got that. Underneath a desk?

I swiveled so hard in my chair that my neck nearly twisted off my head. “What do you mean? What do you know, Henry?”

He shrugged, and I noted that he looked just as unshaven and homeless as ever in his oversized coat and faded ball cap. “I know she’s in trouble.”

Irritation pinched my spine. “Yeah, I gathered that also. Why’s she in trouble? What did you get her into?”

He threw his hands in the air as if I was the crazy one. Was it my imagination or did some wilted lettuce and soggy tomatoes fly out of his sleeves at the action? Just where had he been dumpster diving now? “I didn’t get her into anything. I’m just as clueless about all of this as you are.”

“I have a hard time believing that’s true.”

“It is. I just want her to be okay.” His eyes softened, but I didn’t buy it. The action looked too purposeful and not all that natural and sincere.

“I’m pretty sure you were the last person to see her. That makes you my first suspect.”

“I’d never hurt Sierra. Never. I did meet with Sierra for a while yesterday. It wasn’t to bomb any buildings or burn down any housing developments, though. We were going to go protest at a pet store. She canceled on me at the last minute. Said she had to go meet with someone.”

I sat up straighter as my internal clue-o-meter began registering. “Who?”

“She didn’t say. I haven’t heard from her since then. But she wasn’t acting like herself.”

“That’s all you can tell me?”

“It’s all I know.”

I tapped my fingers on the steering wheel, wondering how much time I was wasting by having this conversation. “I’m going to do a job right now, Henry. I can’t take you with me. I can’t even let you stay in my apartment because I, for starters, don’t want to get arrested. Secondly, I’m still not sure I believe you.”

“I’m innocent, Gabby. You’ll see.” He grabbed the door handle. “I’m going to run now. I’ll be in touch, though.”

He disappeared out one side, as Riley slipped into the other.

Riley froze, as if contemplating whether to chase the person who’d just escaped or check on me. His eyes shifted back and forth in confusion and suspicion. Finally, in an even tone, he asked, “Who was that?”

I bit my lips a moment. “That was Henry.”

“Henry?”

I nodded. “Yeah. He thinks Sierra is in trouble, too.” I relayed our conversation.

Riley’s eyes met mine. “I don’t like this, Gabby.”

The weight on my shoulders felt even heavier just then. “I don’t either. I don’t either.”

***

Riley paused in the center of the dimly-lit living room, his gaze scanning the crime scene around him. A heaviness seemed to settle over him at the sight. The spot where a life had been taken from his earth could do that to a person. “You were right, Gabby. This scene is grizzly.”

I paused from my spot on the floor where I worked a scrub brush with enough skill to make a custodian jealous. “I warned you.”

“That you did.”

I leaned back on my heels, concern for Riley spreading over me. Not everyone was cut out for this, not even tough guys. I considered it a calling. “You don’t have to stay, you know.”

His gaze cut toward me. “But I do. I don’t want anything happening to you.”

Certainly, I was simply imagining the affection and concern I heard in his voice. To protect my heart, I latched on to that idea. Yes, I’d imagined it, and I kept scrubbing. Of course, setting my mind toward cleaning up blood and guts didn’t quite have the same appeal as letting my mind run wild at the thought of Riley and me having a future together.

We scrubbed in silence for a few more minutes until finally I stood, pulled up my mask, snapped off my gloves, and wiped my forehead. The hazmat suit I wore could make an Eskimo going ice fishing sweat.

Riley followed my lead and also took a breather. We wandered away from the scene and into the next room—the kitchen.

“Terrible thing that happened here,” Riley muttered before chugging down some water.

I leaned against the counter and grabbed my own water bottle. Condensation from the plastic trickled down my fingers. “I know. These are the hardest crime scenes to clean up after. Apparently, this was a home invasion gone wrong. The homeowner was supposed to be out of town, but he decided to stay home at the last minute. The robbers probably weren’t expecting anyone to be here. And now someone’s dead.”

I knew I shouldn’t do it, but I abandoned my water bottle, wiped the extra liquid off of my fingers and onto my suit, and then thumbed my finger down the stack of books and papers on the kitchen counter. The man who died had worked for a solar energy company, or so I gathered. Sometimes I had to go searching for information like this, but, in this case, the man’s mother had poured out her pain to me before I was hired. I wanted to reach through the phone and hug the woman. I couldn’t even imagine her grief.

Absently, I tugged at a piece of paper from the stack. A word in the corner caught my eye. Why did the format of the paper look familiar?

“What are you doing?” Riley stepped closer.

I froze up a moment at Riley’s closeness. “What I do best. Snooping.”

His hand covered mine a moment—not in affection, but to stop me from doing something I might regret. It didn’t work. “Is that a good idea?”

“The police have already been here and collected all the evidence. The crime scene has been cleared.” I yanked out the paper. My eyes widened when I saw the words at the top of the page.

Building Bombs and How to Use Them.

The same papers that Sierra had in her apartment.

Was there a connection between this crime and the others?

I lifted my gaze to the ceiling.
Lord, what has my friend gotten herself into? Protect her. Please.

Chapter Eight

“Tell me one more time where you found this,” Parker demanded. He stood in the kitchen at my crime scene, again looking like he owned the place. He was good at that false ownership thing.

I pointed to the same stack of papers and books that I’d already pointed at twice. “Right there, wedged between the pages of that notebook.”

He scowled. “And how did you discover it?”

“My natural nosiness was at work again. Of course. I don’t know what else you want me to tell you.” I threw my hands in the air in frustration. Riley stood behind me, a hand on my shoulder—again, not out of affection, but as a way of keeping me grounded.

Special Agent Wilkerson approached Parker. “I just got off the phone with the mother. She said she pulled that stack of papers and books from the shelf in the victim’s room. Someone at his company asked if he could take a look at them for a special work project.”

Parker raised a brow. “Convenient. Did she remember who that person was?”

“Someone named Daniels. Mark Daniels, I think.”

I tapped my foot, appearing not to pay attention but secretly storing away all of the information. Someone had to be an advocate for Sierra. I’d chosen myself to be that person, and I’d do whatever I could to ensure my friend was okay. “Please tell me you don’t think that Sierra is responsible for this crime also?”

“The evidence will tell the story.” He leaned toward me. “Isn’t that what you would say?”

I nudged my chin out farther. “Of course the evidence will tell the story. It will prove that she’s innocent. There has to be another explanation for this. I know there is.”

“You’re loyal, if nothing else.”

I scowled this time. “And you’re annoying, to say the least.”

He chuckled, shook his head and took a playful swipe at my chin. “I love your spirit. I really do. Never lose that.”

“I hear ya.” I grabbed my air scrub, a piece of the standard equipment I used when cleaning. The industrial piece helped to take away the smell often left at crime scenes. I needed to use it in my van after Henry’s visit. “Anything else? I’ve gotta get some shuteye.”