03 - Organized Grime (7 page)

“Yeah, one more thing. Stay out of trouble. I don’t know what’s going on here, but I know this is no joke. Whoever is behind these crimes—whether they’re connected or not—they’re dangerous.”

I resisted a shudder. I believed Parker. Only, I wasn’t going to let the danger stop me.

Riley’s hand moved to my … waist? “You ready?”

I nodded, not missing the glance Parker bounced between Riley and me. “Yeah, let’s go.”

Outside, the nighttime seemed startlingly quiet. Had the cold killed all the little nocturnal insects that chirped? The late hour apparently kept any pedestrians and traffic at bay. Still, something about the silence made me shiver.

And then stop.

There was that feeling again. That feeling of being watched.

I let my gaze wander over my surroundings. I saw nothing unusual. Just a few cars parked on the side of the street, neighbors whose windows glowed with light from inside, some branches waving in the slight breeze.

“What’s wrong?” Riley paused beside me.

I continued to stare at everything around me. “Something feels off.”

“Off how?”

“It’s just a feeling. The feeling that someone’s watching all of this unfold.”

Riley scanned the area also. “I don’t see anything.”

I drug in a deep breath and took another step across the cracked concrete. “Yeah, I don’t either.” I let my gaze soak in everything around me once more as I approached my van. I held my breath as I opened the doors, half expecting to see Henry again. Thankfully, cleaning supplies greeted me. Riley and I loaded everything into the van. As I climbed into the driver’s seat, a piece of paper there caught my eyes. Riley and I exchanged a glance as I picked it up. Carefully, I unfolded it and saw the typed words there.

Watch your back, Gabby St. Claire. This is no amateur’s game. Are you sure you’re cut out to take this on? Or are you too green?

Green? That word couldn’t be a coincidence. I looked at Riley. “What does that mean? Are they challenging me to get involved and encouraging me to stay away at the same time?”

“How about ‘threatening’ you to stay away?”

“They were here, Riley. Whoever is behind all of this was here tonight. Maybe the person who left this is the same person who’s following me.”

“Someone’s following you?” His voice sounded low, serious.

“It’s just a gut feeling. The thing is that my gut feeling is usually right. I’m tired of discounting it.”

“You’re right. God gives us those instincts for a reason. You should trust your gut.” He paused. “Have you told Parker?”

I shook my head. “I know Parker. He’ll just think I’m crazy.”

“You have to show him this note, you know. There could be fingerprints.”

“I doubt it.” I sighed again and opened my door. “But here goes nothing.”

***

I’ve been going to church for about four months now and, if truth be told, I still wasn’t 100 percent comfortable there, even if the church I was attending met in a high school cafeteria and had a pastor that I’d affectionately—and secretly—nicknamed Pastor Shaggy because of his resemblance to the character from Scooby Doo.

I officially became a Christian two months ago—on New Year’s Day, to be specific. After Thanksgiving, I’d gone to church with Riley. I’d been promising to go for months, and I finally decided to keep my word. I’d surprised myself when I actually liked it there.

I’d been wrestling with the whole faith versus science thing for a while. But I knew that I was ready to take the plunge into Christianity. And plunge I did. Even though it was forty degrees outside, as soon as I decided to become a Christian, I wanted to be baptized—in the ocean.

Pastor Shaggy had agreed to it. The day was cold and windy, but the sun shone brightly. All of my friends—Riley, Sierra, Chad, Sharon, plus a few others—gathered at the beach, huddled up in coats and blankets. Pastor Shaggy and I waded out into the icy ocean water and, after offering up a beautiful prayer, he plunged me into the surf. I loved the symbolism of being dunked under the water and coming up washed clean. What a beautiful picture of my new life in Christ.

My friends had applauded. A few rushed into the water to hug me. And we’d sung some worship songs and prayed—after I changed clothes, of course. Then we’d all gotten coffee and eaten pie and laughed together at a little oceanfront diner. My theme song had changed from “I Still Haven’t Found What I’m Looking For” to “Amazing Grace.”

I’d felt like a new person. I was a new person, and I was so grateful for the change in my life. I’d merged my thoughts between faith and science. I knew the two could go hand in hand. And I was ready to accept that there was a creator who loved me, who made all things work for his purposes. I also believed that he’d given us knowledge of certain things in life that we could use in order to prove that God was real.

Riley’d had a big influence on these life changes of the past couple of months. He was the one who hadn’t given up on me and my continual skepticism about God and Jesus. He encouraged me to stay strong and not to be as narrow-minded as the people I criticized. He’d met with me early on after I was baptized and we’d read the Bible together, prayed together.

The thing I liked the most about church was that the more I grew in my relationship with Jesus, the less I thought about myself. I’d come to the conclusion that putting others above yourself was the true prescription for happiness.

I’d also been learning that faith was just that—faith. It wasn’t concrete. There were no lab tests I could implement to determine whether or not my faith was real. It simply was. And I was okay with that. The scientist in me often rebelled, but I knew in my heart—and through careful research—that faith and science could merge into one.

Believe it or not, I’d even brought some people to church with me. There was Sharon who owned the coffeehouse across the street from my apartment building. Bill McCormick, my downstairs neighbor, also came with me sometimes, though I had to wonder if he simply came as a means of networking and trying to gain more fans for his radio talk show…or maybe even to pick up women. But who was I to judge?

Perhaps most striking for me was that my father had begun to come with me. Yep. My father, the alcoholic who’d claimed for years that he couldn’t work, was now sober. He was coming to church, along with his new girlfriend Teddi. And he was working as a painter, a job he’d held for three months. That might be a new record for him. Not that I was counting.

The fact that this was the church Riley came to still amazed me. When I’d first met him, I’d assumed he’d go to the uptight variety. But instead, here he was in a congregation of blue collar workers, college students and artists. I liked to think of the group as closely aligned with the twelve disciples. After all, the disciples were a ragtag group and hardly seemed upright and overly righteous.

The sermon today had been on the Prodigal Son. I’d heard the story before but today, it struck me fresh as I realized that God forgave me the same way the father had forgiven his youngest son in the story. Accepting forgiveness in my life had felt like layers of burdens had been peeled away until the core of my personhood was revealed. Sometimes those layers began to curl back up, and I had to remind myself that someone else was in control of my life—God—and that he was going to take care of me. That wasn’t an easy concept for someone who had trouble loosening her grip on the reins.

Everyone stood to sing the last song before church dismissed. As the guitarist started strumming the strands of “Here I Am to Worship,” I closed my eyes. Worship. This was my favorite part of each service. I wasn’t one to often express my admiration for people—or for God, for that matter. But singing allowed me to do just that without feeling self-conscious.

God was working in my life. I never thought I’d say that, but he was.

Life seemed to be falling back into routine with church today. I already had two jobs lined up for the week. Riley would go back to work tomorrow. Chad should be back from his ski trip this evening.

But how about Sierra? How could we return to normal with Sierra missing? Shouldn’t the police be out searching for her? She was the victim here. Would they ever realize that?

And why was someone playing games with me? Why were they pulling me into this mystery? More importantly, who was that person?

I had so many questions and so few answers. I needed a game plan for how I was going to figure all of this out.

The answers had to start with Lydia. I’d tried to patiently wait for her date with Riley, but that wouldn’t be until after this week when her divorce was finalized. I couldn’t wait that long. Sierra’s life could be on the line, so this was no time to be patient.

“Gabby?”

“I have to do it,” I blurted.

Riley cocked his eyebrow. “Do what?”

I shook my head, trying to come out of my stupor. “Huh?”

He tilted his head, a no-nonsense expression gracing his perfect features. “I asked you what you wanted to do for lunch and you said, ‘I have to do it.’ Care to explain?”

Why bother concealing my plan? Riley would find out anyway. He always did. “I have to talk to Lydia. Today. Can you help?”

He paused a moment, saying nothing, before he finally nodded. “I have her phone number. I suppose I could pass that along to you.”

“Thank you.”

He touched my elbow. “What are you thinking?”

“I’m really worried about Sierra, Riley. Something’s wrong. I feel like I’m going on with my life as if nothing has happened. What if she’s hurt somewhere? Or in danger?”

“You’re doing what you can, Gabby. The FBI is working on this case even. I’d venture to say that plenty is being done.”

I shook my head. “Not by me. I’ve got to talk to Lydia. And Mark Daniels.”

“Mark Daniels?”

“The man who called and asked for those books to be set aside at the crime scene last night,” I reminded him. “Those two are the only leads I have.”

“Let’s go then.”

I raised a brow. “You’re coming?”

“How many times do I have to tell you, Gabby? I don’t want you trying to conquer this alone. I know I can’t stop you, but I can at least tag along and try to keep you out of trouble.”

“He’s right, you know.” My dad appeared in our little circle. Surprisingly, I didn’t feel the initial resentment I usually did when he came around. We had so many issues from the past to work through. I just didn’t know how to approach most of them, which was pretty unusual for me. I had a track record of diving into things headfirst.

“Well, father knows best.” I tried to keep the edge out of my voice, but I’m not sure it worked.

“You’re not going to come by the coffee shop for a sandwich?” Sharon, the owner of The Grounds coffee shop, as well as a friend, approached us. She wiped a pink strand of hair out of her eyes, revealing the multiple piercings that graced her eyebrows, nose, upper lip and ears. Sharon was quiet, a good listener and had more creativity in one iced latte than I experienced in a lifetime.

I shook my head. “I can’t right now. There’s something I have to do. But I’ll take a rain check on it.”

“We’ve got these new paintings that you have to see. I think they’re right up your alley, Gabby. The artist is local and edgy and almost has a bit of mystery about her work. I thought of you when she hung them up for display.”

“I’ll definitely check them out. I’ve just got to do something for Sierra first.”

Sharon’s gaze scanned the crowds. “Where is Sierra?”

“I wish I knew.” I bit my lip. “Pray for her.”

Sharon’s smile dropped. “It’s that serious?”

I nodded. “Yeah, unfortunately.”

“I just saw her yesterday morning.”

I straightened. “Yesterday morning? Are you sure?”

“Positive. I thought she was up to her strange antics again. She was climbing into her apartment through a window. I saw it from the coffeehouse.”

“Are you sure it was Sierra?”

“Pretty sure. Short Asian chick with dark plastic framed glasses.”

I looked at Riley. “I’ve got to check out her apartment. That’s where I need to start first.”

Riley and I hurried from the crowd and outside to his car. The school was close enough that we could have walked, but the biting cold remained so we’d taken his car. As soon as I slipped inside, I saw the paper on the windshield.

“Not again,” I muttered. I stuck my hand out the window and snatched the paper, hoping it was simply a local restaurant advertising its daily specials.

As soon as I saw the typed words on the other side, I knew it wasn’t.

For I know the plans I have for you, declares the Lord. Trust in God’s plan. But remember, I am God.

I looked at Riley after reading it out loud. “What does that mean? Someone is playing God?”

“People who end the lives of others often think they’re God. I think there’s a killer who wants you to play his game. This is serious, Gabby.”

I felt chilled to the bone. “Yeah, I know.” I tucked the paper into my purse. One more thing to give Parker. Why couldn’t I just get that man out of my life? Did God want to teach me some cosmic lesson by having me interact with Parker daily now? “Let’s not waste any more time. I’ve got to check Sierra’s apartment and see what’s going on.”

The drive home took three minutes. I couldn’t even talk the whole way there, which only proved how serious I felt since I, by most accounts, was never quiet.

I pulled Sierra’s apartment key from my messenger bag and gripped it as Riley pulled into the lot. As soon as the car was in park, I threw the door open and hurried into the apartment building. As I opened Sierra’s door, the wooden beads hanging on the other side begin their clacking. The sound made me miss Sierra even more.

Sure, Sierra could be a little hard to take sometimes, but so could I, so who was I to complain? I missed her acorn brownies, the moaning—supposedly relaxing—whale music she listened to, and her constant soliloquies on the evil of humanity toward the animal kingdom.

I pushed aside the beads and stepped into her apartment. I could feel Riley behind me. When I stopped in my tracks, he collided into me.