“You didn’t forget, did you?” Sierra said with a laugh.
“Of course not,” I muttered.
I glanced around and saw my dad, Teddi, Chad, Sierra, and even Clarice.
“We just threw this together at the last minute. We didn’t want to plan something big, not with everything that happened. Just a few of your closest friends.” Sierra leaned closer. “And Clarice, but only because she overheard our plans.”
I forced a smile, not wanting to hurt the feelings of those closest to me. Apparently, being offensive was only reserved for everyone else in my life. And I did mean everyone lately. “It’s fine. It’s great. Thank you.”
“Your brother apparently is up doing some kind of rally in D.C. or he would have been here,” Sierra added.
That was my brother for you. I hadn’t seen him in a couple of weeks, but he disappeared and reappeared like that. As long as he was happy, I was happy.
Clarice approached me with a latte in hand. “For you!”
My brain seemed to perk at the idea of coffee. Coffee always made things better. I reached for it, but Clarice pulled it back.
Her eyebrows shot up as she grinned. “Do you realize what you just said?”
I just stared at her. I had no clue what she was talking about.
“You said, ‘My Precious,’ just like that freaky little dude from The Lord of the Rings when you reached for this drink.”
“Gollum?” I questioned.
“Yes! Him. You sounded just like him.”
I wasn’t sure if I actually said these things or if Clarice just heard what she wanted to hear. This wasn’t the first time she’d said something like that. In fact, sometimes she insisted when I said, “Hello, Clarice,” that I sounded just like Hannibal from The Silence of the Lambs.
She handed me my latte—finally. Then she rambled on about her favorite coffee, which led to more ramblings about her favorite pastries, which then led to her favorite diet plans.
After about five minutes, Sierra and Chad swooped in and saved me. I liked Clarice. I really did. But I was in a rotten mood right now.
Maybe I’d ask Sharon, the coffeehouse owner, if she could blare, “It’s My Party and I’ll Cry If I Want To” on the overhead. The song seemed fitting at the moment.
“You doing okay?” Sierra asked.
Would this be a rotten time to tell her about Riley’s mom? Probably. She’d gone through the trouble to plan this party after all. I didn’t want to seem ungrateful. “Hanging in.”
I mingled at the party for another hour, making sure I talked to everyone. Thankfully, everyone kept the conversation light. They tried to make it seem as normal as possible.
But what would they say if they heard the awful truth? The truth that words I’d spoken had almost done Riley’s mom in?
Could my life get any worse?
CHAPTER 13
I sat in my van the next morning, the AC blowing on me, drops of rain hitting the windshield. My mind was anywhere but the ghetto-like neighborhood around me.
Instead, in my mind, I was at the hospital. I pictured Riley waking up from this mess and resuming normal life—because I still had hope that he would.
Then I pictured myself telling him that I’d filed a lawsuit against his parents—my future in-laws—and that his mother had a heart attack because of the added stress I’d placed upon her.
This was not a great way to start my happily ever after.
In fact, if Riley knew, this would probably break his heart, and I couldn’t stand that thought.
I’d stopped by the hospital this morning to check on him. He was the same.
I’d started down the hallway with flowers in hand to check on Evelyn, but then I’d stopped. Seeing me might only cause her more stress. For that reason, I’d asked a nurse to deliver the flowers for me. Maybe the most merciful and compassionate thing I could do was to stay away.
I hadn’t even run into Riley’s dad, a fact which would normally relieve some of my stress. Today, all I felt was guilt. I felt responsible. I felt like I should have been more diplomatic when arguing with Ron and Evelyn. I had no idea how to fix this or how to make things better.
I just had no idea about anything right now. Too little sleep, too little food, too much stress. All of those had come together to form the perfect emotional storm in my life.
As I reflected on my interactions with Evelyn, I remembered that I’d been arguing for what I thought was best for my fiancé. I was only trying to look out for him, to keep him away from some crazy doctor. What was I supposed to do when presented with a situation like this?
I shook my head. What a mess. One thing was for sure: If anyone could make a mess of things, it was me.
Back in the present, I glanced across the street at The Guardians. They were playing basketball on a court set up in what was affectionately known as “the projects.” I had a basic idea of where they liked to hang out. But I also knew that a big white van in the middle of their neighborhood wasn’t the norm, so I had to be careful.
I watched closely. T-Bone was there. He was pushing around a couple of other guys. Yep, that’s what he was. A bully. I didn’t quite understand gang culture, but I did understand the need to belong.
I also didn’t fully understand why I was sitting here watching them. Maybe I was hoping for a clue as to what they were up to or if they had any clue Riley was in the hospital. Right now, I had nothing except that T-Bone had a mean slam-dunk.
I slunk down in my seat and looked at my phone again. I’d missed another call from Pastor Shaggy. He’d been trying to reach me for the past few days, but I hadn’t returned his calls. I didn’t even know why. It was just that I couldn’t bring myself to talk to him. I’d feel like I had to be strong and pretend that I was doing a great job trusting God throughout the storm.
I knew the truth. I knew I was sinking in the waves instead of walking on water right now. And I didn’t want to own up to that fact. I’d thought I’d be stronger than this. But, every time I let my thoughts wander, their destination seemed to be the place where doubts tarried and lingered. I let my so-called faith mingle there as well.
Suddenly, someone tapped on my window. I nearly jumped out of my skin. My phone tumbled to the floor.
My first thought was that The Guardians had seen me and had come to finish me off. I needed a weapon. Something to defend myself with. If all else failed, maybe I’d burst into a Broadway song. That should sufficiently scare away any gangbanger, right? If not from the Broadway effect, then maybe they’d simply think I was crazy. Who wanted to mess with crazy?
When I looked over, I saw Parker standing there instead. My jaw dropped in agitation. “What are you doing?”
He motioned for me to unlock my passenger door. I looked over at The Guardians, hoping we hadn’t drawn attention to ourselves, and then let Parker into the van.
“What are you doing?” I repeated.
He made himself comfortable in the passenger seat, one arm leaning on the cushioned rest and the other against the nook of the door. “The question is: What are you doing? Staking out The Guardians? Not a good idea.”
I couldn’t even argue. Why bother anyway? “No one’s coming forward to claim they shot Riley. Speaking of which, how did you find me?”
He scowled. “I tried to catch you at the hospital. I saw you leaving and followed you.”
The timing wasn’t computing in my head, no matter how I tried to figure it. “But I’ve been here fifteen minutes.”
He shrugged. “I stopped to get some coffee.”
It didn’t sound like talking to me was that urgent, which was strange considering he’d followed me. I’d never understand men. Especially not Parker. “Okay . . . why are you here?” How many times would I have to ask before I got an answer?
He shifted his arms, tugging at his slacks as if to get out any wrinkles. Then he looked from left to right and back again before meeting my gaze. “You didn’t hear any of this from me.”
He shifted to face me and lowered his voice, as if someone else might hear us in the van. “Someone was abducted. They found a picture of her at the crime scene. Her eyes were Xed out.”
Alarm washed through me, making my skin tingle with sudden awareness. I only had one question . . . “Milton Jones?”
He looked from side to side again. “That’s what someone made it look like. I’m not saying it’s him, though. It could be a copycat. That’s the most likely scenario.”
My gaze didn’t leave him. I wanted to study his every expression and gesture until I saw the truth. “Is that what you think?”
He tugged at his collar a moment and looked out the windshield. He paused for three seconds before saying, “I haven’t seen enough evidence to have an opinion.”
Oh no. That answer was not going to cut it. “Parker, do you think Jones is dead?”
His gaze still didn’t meet mine. “If he’s not dead, then he’s Superman surviving what he did.”
“People have survived some crazy situations before. I wouldn’t put it past him.”
His chest slowly filled with air until he finally turned to me. “All along, we thought he had an accomplice last time—and we were right. He was working with someone.”
“What if he was working with two people?” I could fill in the blanks . . . even though I didn’t like the information that filling in the blanks required.
Parker nodded grimly. “And what if another person is continuing his work now? It may not matter if Jones is dead or alive, not if he has minions trying to finish what he started.”
“Maybe that same person shot Riley.” The answers filled me with a strange satisfaction—a satisfaction that I finally had a real lead. At the same time, anger rose in me that someone would be as mindless as to pull the trigger just because someone else wanted them to.
Parker nodded. “My thoughts exactly.”
I took a few breaths, trying to calm my racing heart—and my racing thoughts. I had to cling to my logic here. My emotions would only pull me over the edge. “Tell me about the woman who was snatched.”
“She lived in Virginia Beach. Same basic personality as the other women. She was young, enthusiastic, the oldest sibling by default—her older brother died, I guess. Some would call her bossy.”
“She does fit the profile. Anything else you can tell me about her?”
“We’re still gathering all the preliminary data.”
“Are you part of this investigation?”
“I stopped by the scene for just a few minutes, for long enough to get the basics, just in case I’m called in later. I think I will be.”
“What about her name? Did you get that, at least?”
“Name was . . .” He checked his notepad. “. . . Juliette Barnes.”
The blood drained from my face. “Juliette Barnes?”
Parker narrowed his eyes. “You know her?”
I nodded, my head suddenly pounding uncontrollably. “In a manner of speaking.”
***
Parker left, and I grabbed my cellphone. After I fished the business card from the bottom of my purse, I quickly dialed Garrett Mercer’s number. The receptionist put me through. That woman was a saint.
I knew I didn’t have much time if I was going to talk to Garrett again without interfering with a police investigation. Soon, the police would be all over GCI, asking questions of Garrett Mercer and all of Juliette’s coworkers. That’s why I had to strike now.
“Ms. St. Claire. I was hoping you’d call again.” Garrett’s rumbling, irksome British accent flowed over the line.
I didn’t even ask why he was hoping I’d call again. I didn’t have time to play any games. “I have more questions.”
“I thought you might. I was just getting ready to take my lunch break. Care to meet me?”
“On purely professional terms? Yes. Name the time and place.”
He listed the name of an organic, farm-to-table restaurant called The Farm Girl that Sierra liked to frequent. I couldn’t care less about the organic or farm fresh aspect, but I said yes. I had just enough time to get there and put a fresh coat of powder on my face so my skin wouldn’t look quite as pale.
I shuddered as I pulled into the parking garage. I continued to shudder as I stepped out of my van and hurried toward the exit. I was nearly jogging down the sidewalk in an effort to reach Garrett in time.
The day was still gloomy and more rain threatened to spill from the sky. I’d heard murmurings about an approaching hurricane. Right now, I just hoped I made it inside before the sky burst.
Finally, I walked into the restaurant, practically panting but dry. I wanted to take a moment to compose myself, but when I looked up, Garrett was standing there, a twinkle in his eyes. “Ms. St. Claire. Breathless to see me again, I see.”
I scowled. “Something like that.”
He smirked. “I have a table waiting for us.” He extended his hand, showing me which direction to head.
I took in one last breath and then weaved between the country-style tables. His hand went to my back, and shivers went through me. Though I was sure he was just being polite and guiding me in the right direction, the last thing I wanted was for him to touch me. No, he was way too flirty as it was. And the fact that my body was actually responding was even more disturbing.
If I didn’t need information from him so badly, I might have swatted his hand away. But I maintained a polite façade. I needed to stay on good terms with him.
We sat at a chunky wooden table. Butcher paper covered the top, and crayons—for adult and child’s use—were in a bowl in the middle, right beside a jar of dried wildflowers. The restaurant cut out the best tabletop drawings and displayed them on a board by the waiting area.
“The sweet potato cakes are fabulous here,” he offered, not even bothering to pick up the menu. Instead, he stared at me, an amused expression on his face.
The thought of eating sweet potato cakes made me want to hurl. Instead, I flipped open the menu in an effort to distract myself from his obvious curiosity about me. I held the menu up high so he couldn’t see my face and I couldn’t see his. I kept the menu there until the waitress came, then I ordered a salad. I doubted I’d eat much of it. Garrett ordered his sweet potato cakes and a cup of coffee. I’d glanced at the menu and noticed GCI was the brand served here. Convenient.
He laced his fingers together and leaned toward me. “So, for what do I owe this honor? I’m assuming this meeting isn’t because you simply couldn’t wait to see me again. I’ve heard my impeccable good looks have that effect on women.”
“Don’t flatter yourself. No, I’m here because of Juliette Barnes.”
He didn’t flinch. “Okay. I thought I’d told you nearly all of what you’d need to know. I don’t know what else I can share.”
“Was she friends with Todd Harrison?”
“Harrison? No, not really.”
“What do you know about him?”
“He’s a good employee. A hard worker. Smart.” He raised his palms, as if at a loss for words. “I don’t know. What else do you want to know?”
“His father was involved in something close to the mob.”
He shrugged. “I wouldn’t want him to suffer for the sins of his father.”
“So, you think he’s a stand up guy?”
“I wouldn’t have hired him if I didn’t. And, no, I don’t think he’s capable of murder, just in case that was your next question.” His eyes sparkled.
“Okay, let me turn this conversation back to Juliette then. Did she have any friends at work?” I figured if Garrett couldn’t answer all of my questions, he could lead me to someone who did.
He leaned back and stared into space a moment. “There was one lady Juliette seemed particularly fond of. Her name is Sutton Emerson.”
&nb
sp; Sutton? With a name like that I had images of someone spoiled, who’d been doted on by wealthy parents who thought the world revolved around her. “Is Sutton still with your company?”
He nodded. “Of course she is. She’s one of our best sales representatives. Personable, attractive and passionate—three qualities we look for in our employees.”
“Attractive? One of your top qualities is attractiveness? That’s just another lawsuit waiting to—” A diatribe started in my head, but I squelched it. I had to stay on task. “Do you think I could speak with this Sutton?”
“That’s up to Sutton.” He tilted his head, still amused.
He wasn’t even the slightest bit flustered over his admission about liking his employees to look good. The man was confident; I’d give him that. He raised his coffee mug. A waitress scurried over, giggled, and refilled it. He was obviously a regular here.
I fought the urge to roll my eyes.
“You seem to have a personal stake in this case, Ms. St. Claire.”
I kept my gaze fastened on his. “Maybe. It doesn’t matter.”
It actually mattered more than anything, but Garrett didn’t need to know that.
He took a sip of his coffee and kept his mug suspended in the air as he addressed me. “You think Sutton is responsible for shooting that lawyer?”
I shook my head. “No, I don’t.”
“Then you think Juliette is responsible?”
I shook my head again. “Not really.”
“Then why all of the interest?”
Before I could respond, Garrett’s cellphone rang. He held up a finger, as if to say hold that thought, before answering. His brows furrowed together as he spoke with the person on the other end. “Okay. I understand. Absolutely. I’ll be right there.”
He hung up and scrutinized me for a moment. “That was the police.”
“Oh?” I tried to sound neutral.
Garrett watched me carefully. “Juliette appears to be missing.”
“That’s terrible.” And it was. Even if she had a secret relationship of some sort with Riley.
“Why do I have a feeling that you knew that?” The skin at the corner of his eyes crinkled with a mix of intelligent observation and unbridled curiosity.
To Love, Honor, and Perish Page 11