The Scum of All Fears: Squeaky Clean Mysteries, Book 5 (4 page)

She grabbed my arm and nearly had me jumping out of my skin.
“You’re totally going to go, aren’t you, Gabby?”

Certainly she was
n’t asking me if I was going to . . . “Zombie Fest?”

“It’s this Friday. You’ve got to do it!
Everyone who’s anyone will be there.”

I was
n’t quite so sure her words were true. “Zombie Fest doesn’t sound like much fun.”

“It’s zombies, for goodness sake! What’s not fun about that?
Except maybe monkey ninjas.” She paused and turned her head sharply toward me. “You’re not too old for it, are you?”

“Too old
?” I wasn’t even thirty yet. “Of course not.”

“You’re acting too old.”

Too old? Some kind of survival instinct ignited within me. I was not some old stick in the mud. No way. I was young. Hip. With it. “I’d love to go to Zombie Fest. It would be the highlight of my week. Maybe my month. When I said it didn’t sound like much fun, I meant it didn’t sound like
much
fun—it sounded like the
bomb-diggity
of fun.”

She grinned. “See!
Auntie Sharon was right when she said I’d get along great with you. We’re totally on the same wavelength.”

Oh, p
lease. Never. Ever. Shoot me.

I kept driving, wondering what I’d just gotten myself into.
Clarice talked about it for the rest of the ride until we pulled up to our crime scene. The place was a small little bungalow located in an older but well kept area of Norfolk called Larchmont. Some larger homes here backed up to the water, but many were moderately sized. This house was painted olive green with white shutters and immaculate flowerbeds.

I
cut the engine and prepped Clarice a moment. “There was a shooting inside. I’m fairly certain it was a drug deal gone badly. I’ll spackle the wall where the bullets got lodged, scrub down everything, remove anything that would remind the family of the crime.”

“Got it.”

I met a man on the porch. He wasn’t the same person who’d been here when I came out to give my estimate on Saturday. He had a curly gray beard, oversized glasses, and wore a trucker hat. His skin was pale and wrinkled, and he had an over abundance of ear hair.

“Thanks for coming,” he mumbled, tugging at his hat.

“I’m sorry for your loss.” I meant it. I never wanted to become immune to death’s sting or the life-altering impact it had on the lives of the deceased’s loved ones.

He nodded
solemnly. “We all are. If you could make it look like this never happened, we’d sure be appreciative.”

“I’ll do my best,” I told him.

He unlocked the door for me before walking to his car and making me promise to lock up after I left. I hauled out my equipment, including an industrial vacuum, an air scrub, and lots of cleaning products. We drug it all inside and paused for a moment.

I almost
always paused first thing when I arrived at the scene. Maybe it was my subconscious way of paying respect to the dead. Every life, no matter whatever series of events that defined it, deserved a moment of honor. If God had created all of us, then it only seemed fitting to mourn the passing of one of His creations.

My cell phone rang. I glanced down and saw Riley’s number. Hopefully he was calling to tell me that Milton Jones had been
located and taken back into custody. At least I could breathe a little easier if that was the case, no matter how paranoid that might sound. I’d intended on watching the news this morning, but my pressing work schedule had won over the TV.

I
hit TALK. “Hey, Riley. What’s up?”

He got right to the point, not mincing any words.
“A woman has been snatched here in Norfolk.”

Okay, that wasn’t
the normal greeting I was expecting from Riley. “What?”

“It’s on the news. A woman was snatched from her bedroom
in Norfolk last night.”

“That’s horrible, but why did you call to tell me that?”
Riley wasn’t one to be random, so I knew he had a point. I had a feeling I knew what that point was, but I wanted to hear him say it, lest I sound paranoid.

“It’s got Milton Jone
s’ M.O. all over it, Gabby.”

I leaned against the wall and lowered my voice so Clarice wouldn’t hear.
“It’s ridiculous to think he’s in this area, Riley. Are the police sure the woman didn’t just disappear?”

“He left a photo there.”

My blood got a little colder. “What kind of photo?”

“It was a snapshot
of the woman taken at a Tides’ baseball game.” The Tides were our minor league here in Norfolk. “She had no idea it was taken. Her eyes had Xs over them.”

I shivered. That was Milton Jone
s’ signature calling card. I shoved aside my emotions for a moment. “How do you know the police in Norfolk found the photo? Are they actually saying it on the news?”

“No, Detective Adams called me
a few minutes ago. He knew I was prosecutor on the Milton Jones case, and he wanted to talk to me about some details.”

My
throat burned as I swallowed. “I see. It has to just be a terrible coincidence or a copycat. Jones can’t make it across the country without being caught, especially not in two days.” I was going to keep telling myself that, at least. It made sense to me.

“You’d be surprised what that man can do. Promise me you’ll be careful? Keep your eyes open?”

“Of course.” I was always careful and kept my eyes open. Even then, I’d almost been killed several times.

“I love you, Gabby.”

“I love you, too, Riley.” My hands still trembled as I put my phone away and slipped into my Hazmat suit.

“Everything okay? You look like a ghost . . .”
Clarice raised her arms and crossed her eyes again. “Or, should I say, a zombie?”

“Yeah, everything’s fine.” I didn’t want to discuss this with Clarice, of all people.
I nodded toward a room down the hall. “Let’s get scrubbing.”

“Aren’t you going to spray the place with
that chemical again?”

I scoffed. “Why would I do that?”

“Maybe someone left another message for you.”

“They didn’t leave a message for me.
They left it for the police.”

“Then why did that officer say the message had been left after the crime scene unit had already been through?” She crossed her arms and stared at me.

“Good question.” I’d thought about that myself.

“
Maybe someone wanted you to discover it.”

“Nice theory, but it doesn’t work. I don’t usually spray Luminol,” I admitted. “Yesterday was just kind of a . . . test. An initiation for the new girl, you could say.”

“I get that. But was there any other way you might discover that message?”

“I
t was just a fluke. There’s no way anyone could have known I was going to do that. I hadn’t done it before. I won’t do it again.”

“M
aybe someone knew you ordered the Lysol . . . inol.”

“Luminol.”
I shook my head. “I really think that you’re overthinking this. Let’s suit up.”

“So how’d you become a crime scene cleaner anyway?” Clarice asked as she pulled on her Hazmat suit.

“It’s a long story. I went to school to study forensics, but I had to drop out. I was looking for something to keep me connected to the crime scenes and give me more experience. You know, something I could use later on. I heard about crime scene cleaning and decided to give it a shot.”

“What is it that’s kept you in this job instead of doing something else?”

I shrugged. “Various reasons, I guess. The job market isn’t great right now.”

“You
, like, worked for the medical examiner for a while, right?”

I nodded. “Budget cuts happened, though, so I’m back to doing this. It’s not that bad. I get to help people.”

“And you’ve helped to solve some crimes, right? That’s what Auntie Sharon said.”

I nodded, snapping on my gloves. “I’ve got a few under my belt. It’s been a mixture of following the evidence, following my gut, and not giving up.”

Clarice smiled. “That’s perfect.”

I paused. “What do you mean?”

She shook her head. “I don’t know. I just mean that you have a great story. Really. You do.”

I pushed the door to the bedroom open and gasped. I backed out of the room, my heart drumming against my chest.
Someone hadn’t bothered to try and wash away his message this time.

“What is it?”
Clarice asked, her eyes wide and frightened.

The
image wouldn’t escape from my mind. The blood. Dripping. Slashed across the walls. “It’s another message.”

“What do
es it say?”

I closed my eyes.
“Three, Four. I’m hungry for more. Gabby St. Claire, are you ready for the gore?”

CHAPTER
5

Detective Adams stared me d
own. We’d worked together several times before. Okay, well maybe “working together” was a slight stretch. In the past, we’d had encounters stemming from the fact that I’d been nosy. Like clockwork, Detective Adams had always shown up just in time to tell me to back off and let the police handle things.

Our professional relationship had progressed to the point where h
e’d helped me get the job at the Medical Examiner’s Office. In many ways, he had grown to become one of my biggest supporters. He knew I was competent and that I lived to see justice served.

“No one knew I was coming here except
the homeowner,” I told him.

“Someone knew you were going to be here.”

I shook my head, flabbergasted. “I came over on Saturday when I’d returned from my trip to the mountains to give the family an estimate. Maybe someone followed me then? I have no idea. Believe me. I’ve been turning this over and over in my mind. It makes no sense.”

“Someone’s trying to get your attention.”

I crossed my arms. “It’s working.”

I glanced over at Clarice. She was breathing in
to a paper bag. If she kept that up much longer, someone was going to call for an ambulance. The poor girl. She really had gotten more than she’d bargained for. On the other hand, she would have some great stories to tell her sorority sisters when school started back up again in a couple of weeks.

“Be careful,” Detective Adams urged.

“I wasn’t even trying to stick my nose in this one, Detective.”

He
nodded, his gaze surveying the mayhem around us. The house had been flooded with law enforcement officials and Adams wasn’t missing anything. He always kept one eye on his subject, but his other soaked in everything else going on around him. I’d found him to be competent, reasonable, and even-keeled.

“I know
you weren’t trying to get involved in this one,” he said. “Unusual, but given the nature of the death here, understandable. Someone wants to draw you in. The question is: Why?”

“Your guess is as good as mine on this one.”
I started to walk away but stopped. “What am I going to tell the homeowners? Do you want me to contact them?”

“I
’ll call them and let them know new evidence has come to light. We should be able to clear the scene for you by tomorrow if you want to come back then and finish the job.”

I nodded. “I know
they’re probably anxious to have all of these reminders erased.”

“Anyone would be. If anything changes, I’ll let you know. Otherwise, plan on being back here in the morning.
The crime scene should be released by then.”

“Got it.”

I motioned toward the door, and Clarice followed me outside. Humid air enveloped us, but the stifling heat still felt more comforting than the horror infusing the atmosphere inside of that home.

I paused and looked at
Clarice a moment as we stood on the lush green lawn. The sparkle was gone from her eyes. Her skin was pale. Her shoulders sagged.

I figured this would be a bad time to make a zombie joke.
Instead, I said, “You doing okay?”

She shook her head, silky brown hair swishing against her shoulders. This was soap opera angst at its finest.
One day when she got her role as an extra on
The Young and the Restless
she could tap into these emotions for any especially dramatic scene. “I shouldn’t have peeked into the room.”

“I told you not to.” But she just
had
to see.

Sounded like someone else I knew.
Me.

She fanned her face.
Some of that crimson apple lipstick would really serve to brighten her up at the moment. “What now, Gabby?”

I started walking back toward the van.
“Now we head to the next job, which just happens to be the crime scene where we found the first message yesterday. It’s been cleared, so we’re okay to finish the job there.”

Clarice stopped cold, her face seeming to freeze in place with eyes wide and lips slightly parted.
“The next crime scene? What if . . . ?”

“Adams already sent some
one over to check it out first. There shouldn’t be any surprises.”

She started walking again, a curious glint in her eyes.
“Adams? You call the detective by his last name? You are the real deal, aren’t you?”

I shrugged. “I’m not sure what you mean by the ‘real deal.’ I’ve earned his trust. It’s been a long, hard road, though.”

“What do you think of those messages being left? That one seemed specifically for you.”

I guess my name had
made that fact clear. I shrugged again, biting my lip before I said anything about being Captain Obvious. “I don’t know. Eerie? Yes. Lacking in creativity? Absolutely.”

“Lacking in creativity? What do you mean?”

“Hasn’t the little numbers rhyme thing been done before?”

Her eyes widened. “Has it? I don’t know. Not on
Criminal Minds
.”

I cut my eyes at her but decided not to comment.
“I’ve helped put some bad guys behind bars, so I’ve become an easy target, you could say. After that write up on me in a local newspaper, maybe I got too much attention. Attention from the wrong people, at least.”

The curious glint turned into an all-out sparkle as she grabbed my arm.
“You should have a TV show about you. Everyone would watch it. You’re definitely pretty enough to be on TV. The camera would love you.” Her voice went from flat to animated.

I shook my head as I climbed into my van.
“Most people couldn’t handle watching what I do. This is a reality they’d rather forget about.” Crime scenes may look exciting on TV, and people thought they were desensitized. But when a real crime scene involved a loved one, they had a real wake up call. No amount of
CSI
reruns could prepare one to see that.

Clarice continued to talk as she climbed inside
the van. At least the thought of my possible fame had distracted her from the eerie blood message inside that home. “It would sell. Totally. It would be like
Sunshine Cleaning
, Real World style. I wonder if I could be an extra . . .”

I shook my
head, ready to be done with this conversation. I had no illusions of fame and fortune. No, I was just happy to pay my bills and help out hurting families hungry for answers. Maybe if other people found justice in their lives, I could find justice in my own life as well.

I checked my directions and started down the road. The next scene wasn’t too far away.
I needed to knock it out and get on my way.

As I drove, I pondered whether or not
crime scene cleaning was in my future permanently. I didn’t know. I’d studied hard to have a career in forensics. It wasn’t my fault the job market had gone south right around the time I’d finally gotten my degree. All the doors here in Virginia had effectively closed. Until someone died or retired, it looked like it was either crime scene cleaning here or taking a job in another state, which would require a move.

Which brought me back to the fact that I had a Skype i
nterview on Wednesday with the Medical Examiner’s office in Kansas. The opportunity seemed to be a good one. But Kansas . . . it was so far away from Riley and my friends. Did I really have to choose between my dream job and my dream man? That’s what it was starting to feel like, and I resented the possibility of having to make that choice.

Besides, my dad was
here. So was my brother, and we’d just begun to reconnect in the past couple of months. That much distance between me and my only sibling could seriously put a damper on my plans to make up for lost time.

I shoved those thoughts aside. I wouldn’t stress out about it too much until I found out if the Kansas S
tate Medical Examiner’s Office was offering me a job. That’s when I could have a little mini-crisis about what to do.

We pulled up to the next crime scene. A police cruiser waited in the driveway. I told Clarice to wait in the van, and I hopped out. An officer who looked so young he had to be a rookie
stepped out.

“
Even though you were just here yesterday, I’m going to walk through the house with you first. Those were my orders from above.” He stood stiffly with his chin raised and a serious look in his eyes.

“Let’s go then.”
Though I knew the scene had been cleared, I braced myself for any messages that would be a shock to my system.

Thankfully, everything appeared clear.

After the officer pulled away,
I went through my normal routine of hauling things out of my van. Apprehension dug its claws between my shoulders, though. Even though the officer had said the scene was clear, I had a hard time believing it. I half expected to find another message waiting for me there.

One, Two. I’m Coming for
You.

Three, Four. I’m
Hungry for More.

Gabby St. Claire, are you ready for gore?

The messages were eerie, that was for sure.

Someone
was taunting the police and me. Had the same person killed both of the people at the two crime scenes I’d cleaned? That’s the only way they could have left those messages. Yet, the facts of the cases were so different. The homes were unalike, the motives were distinctive, and the means of death weren’t the same.

I shook my head.
I had no idea right now. Maybe things would come to light. Or, better yet, maybe this was some kind of sick joke. Maybe the sicko behind the messages would decide to let this drop.

I had the feeling that wouldn’t be the case, though.

I got to cleaning, desperate to take my mind off my problems and concentrate on someone else’s.

A grim reality
but reality nonethe-less.

***

Riley was working late, and I didn’t feel like going back to my apartment after I dropped Clarice off at her car. Instead, I swung by to talk to Sharon. She was actually seated at a table reading the newspaper when I walked in. Her other employees were manning the register.

Before she even spotted me,
I slid into the seat across from her. She nudged down the paper and frowned when she saw me. Immediately, she jerked the paper back up to conceal her face.

“Feeling guilty?” I asked.

She sighed and pushed the paper onto the table. “How’s Clarice doing on the job?”

I shrugged. “I’m counting down the days until Chad gets back, if that tells you anything.”

“She’s a bit of a dingbat. She drives my sister crazy. She’s the one who, once when she heard her car making a funny noise, turned up the radio so she wouldn’t have to hear it. It turned out the engine was leaking oil and was totally ruined. It cost my sister thousands of dollars in repair bills.”

“I kind of like that actually. Just turn up the radio. Ignore the noise, the worries of life.”

“Or the warning signs,” Sharon said. She straightened. “Not to change the subject, but how are you doing? How are the wedding preparations coming?”

“I need to make a checklist. I’ve got the church reserved, though. Still have to order invitations and all of that stuff.” I remembered my dwindling checking account and frowned.

“What’s going on with the job situation?”

“I have an interview with Kansas on Wednesday.”
In an amazing turn of events, the barista set a latte in front of me. I
loved
this place. It was like they could read my mind. I muttered, “Thank you.”

She straightened. “Kansas? Really? That’s exciting.”

“I doubt I’ll take it.”

“Why wouldn’t you?”

I shrugged again. “My life is here. Riley is here. I don’t know if I want to leave all of that behind.”

“You shouldn’t give up your career for
a guy, Gabby. Respect yourself more than that.”

Sharon’s words felt like a slap in the face.
Of course
I respected myself. The issue here was a little more complicated. I took a long sip of my iced latte before speaking.

“I’m not giving up my career,” I finally said. “I’m just trying to make some decisions about my future.”

She raised a pierced eyebrow. “It sounds like you’re not even seriously considering that job in Kansas, all because of Riley.”

I straightened, trying not to let my voice go all high-pitched. No, I wasn’t going to get flustered by this misunderstanding. “For starters, the job hasn’t even been offered to me. My interview is coming up this week. And, for the second thing, it’s not just because of Riley that I’m considering staying, but he is my fiancé, so of course he plays into this decision.”

She leaned toward me. “Don’t set it up so that he thinks his career is more important than yours. If you don’t go to Kansas, that’s what you’re saying. You’re going to have a lifetime of being less important than he is.”