I swallowed. “How would I have known that?”
His eyebrows flinched upward. “That’s a good question.” He stood and placed his napkin on the table. “Rain check?”
“Perhaps.” I didn’t want to commit, especially not until I knew what the man’s intentions were. At the same time, I didn’t want to burn any bridges, not when this man could be the link to finding the person who shot my fiancé.
He dropped some bills on the table, started to walk away, and then paused. He backed up and leaned down until his lips were practically on my ear. “Sutton’s favorite restaurant is the deli down the street. She’s probably there now. Look for a blonde with short hair. Like a pixie. Probably by herself. Don’t tell her where you got the information.”
He didn’t bother to look back. He walked away, calling goodbye to several of the restaurant’s employees. I wiped my ear, still aware of the man’s breath on my skin. What was up with him? Did he not understand that I was engaged? Or was it simply that he didn’t care?
I stood.
I had to talk to Sutton before the police got to her.
CHAPTER 14
I didn’t even bother to wait for my salad. Instead, I darted from the restaurant and into the rain. Of course it had started raining. And of course I didn’t bring an umbrella.
The rain came down in sheets. I’d only taken a few steps when thunder rumbled through the air, shaking the tall buildings of downtown Norfolk. I kept running, going the entire two blocks until I reached the deli.
I spotted Sutton as soon as I walked in. Sure enough, she not only looked like Tinker Bell, but she sat alone in the corner, reading a newspaper while sipping on some water. A half-eaten sandwich was shoved to the side of the table.
I slowed my steps as I approached her. I didn’t bother to ask if I could sit down; I simply slid into the plastic red chair across from her and waited for her to speak. As the AC tangoed with my wet clothing, I tried to resist the shivers that wanted to claim my muscles.
She lowered the paper, her eyes widening when she saw me there. “Can I help you?”
“My name is Gabby St. Claire, I’m investigating the shooting of attorney Riley Thomas, and I think you might be able to help me.” I laid it all out.
She blinked her big green eyes several times. Maybe I should have slowed down some. What I’d told her was enough to overwhelm anyone. Finally, she shook her head. “I don’t know how I can help.”
“You’re friends with Juliette Barnes?”
She shrugged. “We weren’t BFFs or anything. We talked at work. Hung out a couple of times on the weekends. You know, casual stuff . . . you said your name was Gabby?”
I nodded. “Gabby St. Claire. I’m investigating. When was the last time you talked to Juliette?”
“It’s probably been a couple of weeks. She was fired and then she got all weird. After she filed that lawsuit, I decided maybe I should keep my distance if I wanted to keep my job—and I do want to keep my position at the company. This is the best job I’ve ever had. Garrett is innovative, passionate about helping others, and brilliant. But he’s also firm, he has high standards, and he doesn’t like people to question his authority.”
“Do you think it was right that she was fired for her beliefs?”
“Garrett was very nice when he asked her to stop talking about her faith with our clients. I thought his request was reasonable. Juliette was very in your face about the topic of religion—relationship, as she called it. She really rubbed some people the wrong way. She would flat out tell people what she thought of their views. She said there was no time to waste. Jesus could come any day.”
I half admired the woman and half thought she’d been too pushy for her own good. But I didn’t have time to ponder that now. “Did you guys share the same viewpoint?”
Sutton stared out the window at the rain for a moment. “Look, I’m way more liberal than she is. But I’m not going to tell people how to live their lives. I let them figure it out themselves.”
“Yet, you were still friends with her?”
“When she wasn’t talking about religion, she was a fun girl. She had lots of innovative ideas, she loved being outside and hiking and biking and running. She said she’d been given a new start and that she wanted to make the most of it.” She shrugged. “Besides, I kind of like it when people aren’t afraid to be who they are, you know? That was Juliette. Whether you loved her or hated her, she didn’t back down from her beliefs or being the person she was created to be, as she said. You have to admire that.”
I supposed you did. That wasn’t what I was here about, however. “Did she ever say where she went to church?”
“Like every week. When she invited me to go with her.” Sutton rolled her eyes. “It was Lafayette Community. She always used words like ‘On fire,’ ‘Lit up,’ ‘World changing.’ She apparently loved the place.”
I made a mental note of that. Maybe I’d talk to her pastor. “Any other community affiliations?”
“Not that I can think of.” She picked up her water, swirled it, and then took a sip.
My throat burned. This next question didn’t have to do with her disappearance. But I had to know. “Did she ever mention a boyfriend?”
Her face scrunched up in thought. “I don’t know if he was a boyfriend or not. There was this guy she was always talking about. How he was just great and they had some kind of history. They met for lunch a few times.”
“No names?”
She shook her head. “No names. I just know her face flushed every time she talked about him.”
***
I didn’t bother to run back to the parking garage. No, I took my time. I let the rain soak me. I listened to the cars zoom past on the street. I didn’t even get mad when one driver splashed water all over me.
I felt like my life had been turned upside down. Maybe I’d been operating under the illusion that things were going to finally get better for me. Maybe I’d thought that for once in my life, maybe things would go my way, that tragedies could be held at bay for a while, that God had realized my need for a little peace.
Instead, things seemed worse than ever. I didn’t want to feel sorry for myself, but I did. I should be married right now. On my honeymoon. Working at the Medical Examiner’s Office. Getting my life on track.
I tried to think of even one aspect of my life that was going right, and I couldn’t come up with a single thing. Still, I had to stop whining about it. Why was it so hard?
I reached the parking garage and shook myself off. Water droplets flew everywhere. I paused for a minute, listening to the roar of the rain as it cascaded outside.
I started to my van when, all at once, a chill came over me.
I paused and glanced around me. I saw no one. No businessmen or women. No college students. No one out shopping or construction workers going to or from a job. Then why were my internal alarms blaring?
I reached into my purse and grabbed my keys. I’d parked on the first level, so at least there were no staircases for me to battle. And it was the middle of the day . . . usually daylight offered a certain measure of protection.
Then I remembered that Riley had been shot in broad daylight.
That’s when I heard the first gunshot fire in the parking garage.
I ducked to the ground, crawling behind the first car I saw. Grit from the floor coated my fingers. The smell of motor oil rose in waves from the concrete. A straw from a fast food restaurant and a piece of gum socialized near a tire.
My lungs froze. I listened. Waited.
Nothing.
No retreating footsteps.
No guns cocking.
No ammunition being fired.
Exactly what was going on here?
I hadn’t imagined that bullet, had I? I knew I hadn’t.
I also knew that I couldn’t stay here hiding all day. On my hands and knees, I slowly crawled forward. A puddle of water that had crept in from the sidewalk outside soaked my jeans, but
I didn’t care about the grimy liquid.
Instead, I peered around the edge of a black Mercedes beside me. No sooner had I peeked around the corner than another bullet flew my way. The headlight exploded into thousands of pieces, showering me with plastic.
I had to think, and quick.
Just then, I heard sirens in the distance. Were they coming my way? Had the gunshot been reported? I doubted anyone but me had heard the noise over the pounding of the rain.
Footsteps echoed in the distance. Running away from me.
I chanced it and peeked my head up once more. A figure dressed all in black disappeared around the corner.
And, against all common sense, I started chasing after him.
I wasn’t sure what I was doing. The only thing I was sure about was that the person who’d shot at me was the same person who’d put my fiancé in a coma. This was the closest I’d gotten to the shooter, and I didn’t want him to get away.
My muscles burned as I pushed myself as fast as I could go. The man disappeared behind a car.
I paused. Waiting. Anticipating. Bracing myself.
The barrel of his gun appeared from the edge of a concrete column. Pointed at me. I threw myself on the ground just as a bullet pierced the cement behind me.
I waited again, my breath heavy in my own ears. I heard the footsteps again. I pulled myself up, ignoring my torn jeans. Ignoring the blood from my scraped knee. I pushed myself from the ground, ignoring the tremble in my muscles. Then I stood, remaining stooped and on alert.
I rounded the corner and paused behind a massive column.
Slowly, I peered around. There was nothing. No one. Only cars and silence and a time bomb ticking away in my head—a time bomb that reminded me that this whole situation could blow up at any time.
If I walked between those rows of cars, I’d be a sitting duck, an open target . . . an idiot.
Instead, I hid behind an SUV and dialed 911. My fingers trembled against my phone. The dispatcher answered and said help was on the way.
Until then, I’d wait.
Jolly voices rang out behind me.
I turned and saw two women emerging from the staircase, shopping bags in hand. One had a phone to her ear. The other held coffee.
“Get down!” I yelled. “There’s a shooter.”
One of the women screamed. One dropped a bag. Both ran.
Better scared than dead.
I stayed where I was.
Suddenly, an engine revved in the distance. Tires squealed. A black sedan came flying through the parking garage.
The smell of burning rubber filled the space.
I looked up. The car headed right for me.
CHAPTER 15
Without thinking, I threw myself over the hood of the SUV. I landed on the other side just as the sedan swiped the vehicle.
The dark, tinted windows of my assailant’s car didn’t afford me a view of the driver. I quickly memorized the license plate, the make and model.
Then the car was gone. I took a few steps after it before realizing the futility of trying to chase it.
Five minutes later, the police showed up.
One shot of espresso short from being a latte.
I gave them my statement. The shoppers who’d ducked out of the way also offered their accounts of what had happened.
The CSI team came, collected bullet casings, took pictures of skid marks, and looked for footprints or other evidence that might give a clue as to who this shooter was.
The paramedics showed up. They checked me over, even though I said I was fine, despite my scraped knee and bruised ego.
Adams eventually showed up. He said he’d been delayed by another case and had gotten here as soon as he could. He still didn’t mention Juliette or the fact that someone had copied Jones’ M.O. when they snatched her.
As all of this was happening, a thought began to swirl in the back of my mind.
Riley had been shot, and now Juliette was gone. There was one person who’d most want those people to be silenced. One person who had the most at stake, things like his company, his reputation, and his mission to help the less fortunate.
There was also one very busy businessman who kept finding time for me in his schedule. Who’d tried to charm—or maybe it was distract—me. One person who’d willingly told me how I could locate one of his employees. Maybe so he could buy himself some time?
Garrett Mercer.
Had he sent me to talk to Sutton so he’d have a chance to get ready? Had he gone to change into the black shooter outfit and waited for me to return to the garage? Did he fear I was getting too close to the answers?
I wasn’t sure. But it was a theory worth exploring.
***
I waited for Adams to fess up that Juliette Barnes had been snatched. After all, we were tight, right? We’d worked together a lot in the past. He’d helped me get my job with the medical examiner.
But there was nothing but silence on his part. He took notes, asked questions about the shooter, even asked how I was doing with the whole Riley situation.
But Milton Jones was never mentioned, nor was Juliette.
From that, I concluded this was all hush-hush, at least until something was confirmed. After I gave a report to the police and was cleared to leave, I realized that I had a whole list of people I needed to talk to. But before I could do any of that, I had to get out of these wet, dirty clothes.
I pulled up to my apartment building. The first thing I noticed was the “For Sale” sign in the small patch of grass by our parking lot. I stopped and stared at it.
“You’ve got to be kidding me.”
But I knew this was no joke. My apartment building was up for sale. I might have to find a new place to live soon.
Which made me think of my mantra to never think things couldn’t get worse. As soon as that thought entered my mind, things certainly got worse. In my experience, at least.
I dragged myself up the stairs and into my apartment. I locked all the doors before trudging to the bathroom, turning on the water, and letting my wet clothes drop onto the bathroom floor. I climbed into the shower, relishing the steamy water as I tried to wash away the reminders of all that had happened. An impossible task.
As I got out and pulled on some clean clothes, my cellphone rang. It was Parker.
“I heard you were shot at. I’m in the neighborhood. I’m coming by.”
He hung up before I could argue.
Ten minutes later, he knocked at my door. I checked through the peephole just to make sure it was Parker. I had enough people after me that I didn’t want to take any chances.
Sure enough, I saw the Brad Pitt lookalike standing outside my door. I quickly let him inside.
He closed the door behind him and stared at me. I saw him glance at my still wet locks of curly hair, my makeup-less face, and my bare feet. Finally, he asked, “Are you okay?”
I nodded and crossed my arms, wishing I’d had more notice so I could look more presentable. “You mean, aside from the fact that my fiancé is in a coma, I threatened to sue my future in-laws, Riley’s mom had a heart attack, I was shot at and nearly run over, I discovered Riley may have been cheating on me, and my apartment building is up for sale? Other than that, I’m great. Swell. Couldn’t be better.”
He blinked at me, silent for a moment, before muttering, “Wow.”
I nodded and walked over to the couch. I plopped down there, exhausted. “Yeah, wow is right.”
He sat across from me. Instead of sitting upright and professional, he slouched. His posture reminded me that he’d been here many times before, usually not as a professional.
I counted to three, trying to pull myself—and my thoughts—together. I glared—I mean, glanced—at Parker. “Why are you here?”
He plucked some lint from his pants. “Can’t I just check on a friend?”
“It sounds like you have a busy case to work on. Plus, you have a newborn at home.”
He shrugged. “
Yeah, it’s a madhouse there.”
“A madhouse how?”
“Charlie’s parents are there. George keeps crying. Charlie’s all hormonal.” He waved his hands in the air near his head in what I was pretty sure was the internationally known sign for “crazy.” “I’d rather be working. I’ll take terrorist-induced stress to hormone-induced stress any day.”
“Parker!” I didn’t like to judge, but really? “Charlie just had a baby. She needs you. Your baby needs you.”
“We need space right now. Believe me.” He shook his head. “This isn’t what I wanted to talk about. Things between Charlie and me are fine. I’m just going to let her do her thing. I have enough to keep me busy with work.”
“So, are you officially investigating now?”
“Not officially. The FBI is on standby, donating our resources and knowledge. It won’t surprise me if they get us involved. I mean, if this is Milton Jones, it’s huge. They want to be certain before they sound any alarms.”
“Any updates?”
He shook his head. “Everything matches right now with Jones’ previous crimes. Authorities are still collecting evidence, though. Still questioning people. Still finding out information about the victim. You know the drill.”
What would they find? Jones? One of his followers?
Or had Garrett Mercer read up on Jones? Had he known that Jones always left photos of his victims with the eyes Xed out? Had he planted a brilliant distraction that would point the finger away from him?
Maybe Todd Harrison was just as devious as his father. Maybe the whole “I despise my family” was just a front. Todd was smart enough to arrange a murder and make it look like someone else was guilty. He had the best to learn from.
But even the smartest killers sometimes made mistakes. Bundy was discovered when his teeth marks were found on a victim. The BTK killer tooted his own horn one too many times. David Berkowitz, the “Son of Sam” killer, was caught after he parked his car illegally and got a ticket.
Parker stepped closer. “Gabby, I didn’t tell you all of this so you could go out chasing answers. You know that, right?”
To Love, Honor, and Perish Page 12