Paulette opened the first room. I stepped inside. At once, I remembered being in here for my FACS class—Family and Consumer Science. It was funny how places could so quickly take you back in time.
I wasn’t 13 any more, I realized. Back then, I’d thought I had forever. I’d seen too much since then, lived too much with death to hold on to that notion. With age, the years only seemed to fly by even more quickly.
I only had once chance at this life and, if I wasn’t careful, my time was going to slip away. Maybe God had connected me with Paulette and this old school just to remind me of that.
“Gabby?”
I snapped out of my thoughts and turned toward Paulette. “Sorry about that. I went back in time.”
She smiled. “I know. It’s easy to do. I have so many great memories of hanging out with the gang here at Oceanside. It’s one reason I really wanted to preserve this building.”
How could I ever consider that someone who sounded that sincere could be behind the incidents here at the school?
“I wonder whatever happened with the old gang,” I said.
“I heard Pete was working for some tech company out in California. It sounded right up his alley.”
I smiled. Pete was my first real boyfriend. I hadn’t talked to him in years. “How about Brandon? Ever hear anything about him?”
Brandon was only the most talented actor and dancer I’d ever met. I’d had a major crush on him during middle school.
“He’s doing his first show on Broadway.”
“What?”
Paulette nodded. “I tried to get him to come here and do this play, but he’d already signed a contract. He doesn’t have the lead role, but he will one day.”
“I always knew he’d make it. You’re right.”
“Do you ever talk to Becca?” Paulette asked, closing the door as we moved down the hallway to the next classroom.
I shook my head. “I’m ashamed to say it, but no. I haven’t talked to her since my freshman year in college. She went to the University of Florida to study marine biology. She loved it so much down there that she stayed. Her parents were even moving there, last I heard. They both retired and wanted to be closer to her.”
We wandered to the next classroom. The moment felt so normal. How could I have ever suspected Paulette? She was my old friend. Besides, why would she hire me if she was guilty? Unless she thought I was totally incompetent.
I pushed that thought out of my mind.
We checked the next three classrooms. I kept halfway expecting someone to jump out, but there was nothing except stale air and lots of memories. The cabinet that had nearly toppled on me remained on the ground in the old shop classroom.
What if that wasn’t an accident, just set up to look like one?
What if all the things that had happened were the work of someone devious and purposeful, someone who was setting everything up to look like accidents?
Who would be smart enough to do that, though?
I paused outside of the newspaper classroom. Paulette unlocked the door, and I stepped inside.
My gaze perused my surroundings and came to stop on a massive machine. “What’s that?”
“That’s the offset press they used for the old school newspaper.”
“What? They had a press?” I didn’t remember that
She nodded. “That was after we attended. My father bought it. He thought it could offer some good practical experience for the students.”
Newspaper. The man at the bar had said he’d smelled gasoline and newsprint on the man who’d died. Did it have anything to do with this machine?
Even if it did, why would someone break in here to print their own daily? What kind of criminal enterprise would that be? Unless it was some subversive, underground paper done by whackos.
“Why’s this still here? I’m surprised they didn’t sell it off.” I leaned down to examine it more closely. I ran my finger down the side of it, expecting to find my skin covered with dust. It was clean.
“I don’t know for sure why it’s still here. I never thought to ask.”
“It looks incredibly big and awkward,” I mused aloud. “It would probably have to be taken a part just to get it out the door. Plus, so many things are digital now. I’m not sure how much use there is for it in today’s society.”
“True.” Paulette nodded.
This school had stayed in the past and it had been abandoned for years. Was that what happened when you refused to change? You became stagnant and not useful? Was that what was happening with me?
I glanced around the room again. To the left there was an old dark room, leftover from the days when people actually developed their own photos. As I tiptoed toward the room, I bent over and scooped something up.
“What’s that?”
I examined the crinkly orange paper. “It’s a candy wrapper.”
“That’s strange. It’s probably so old it belongs in a museum.”
I pulled out my cell phone and shone the light on the paper. Then I shook my head. “The expiration date is next month.”
Paulette leaned over my shoulder. “Are you sure?”
I nodded. “Positive.”
I stored that information away and peered in the dark room. Everything appeared to be in place, even the old wire line where photos were hung out to dry.
I closed the door and crept over to the closet. It was almost completely empty except for some papers on the bottom. I shined my light there before bending over to pick up something.
I held up a photo. “Remember this?”
She leaned closer and squinted. “Can’t say I do.”
“It’s Oklahoma, Paulette. The production we did in middle school.”
“Why would that picture be out? That was years ago.”
“That’s an excellent question.”
I picked up one more paper from the bottom of the closet. It was another photo. This one was of Mrs. Baker and me at rehearsal from back in the day. Only, the photo was torn in half.
Seeing it made my blood go cold. There was no ghost here at Oceanside, but someone was definitely haunting the place.
Paulette glanced at her watch. “Look, Gabby. I need to run. I have a late meeting. Is there anything else you need?”
I shoved my new evidence into my purse, feeling in my blood that I was getting closer to finding some answers. “No, I think I’m good for now.”
***
“So, how was practice?” Garrett asked.
I dropped my purse by the door to his downtown apartment and walked with him toward the couch. “Uneventful.”
“And that’s good. Right?”
I nodded and sunk into the soft cushions. I was tired and my mind was racing.
There were just too many questions clamoring for my attention.
Garrett had a toasty fire crackling in his ultra-modern fireplace. The structure was situated in the middle of the living room, not against a wall. Acoustic rock music crooned in the background, an old Lisa Lobe song about only hearing what you want to. The lights were low and soft, and I could see the twinkling lights of downtown Norfolk from his twelfth floor home thanks to a wall of windows.
“You look tired.” Garrett sat beside me. “Here. Face the other way. Let my rub your shoulders.”
Normally, I might have said no. But a back massage did sound kind of nice.
I turned and he kneaded my tight muscles. As he worked the knots there, I remembered the photos of Riley. I remembered his job announcement.
Riley wasn’t coming back. Riley and I weren’t happening anymore. Not right now. Not in the future. The sooner I accepted that, the easier my life would be.
“So, tell me what’s going on,” Garrett said as he rubbed my overwrought muscles. He leaned closer, close enough that I could feel his breath easing through my hair. “You smell good, by the way.”
“Thanks. And what’s going on is that I was hired as a private investigator, and I’m failing on the job. That�
�s what.”
“Oh, come now. You always pull through. Sometimes it just takes a bit longer, does it not?”
I loved the way his “does it not” sounded with his British accent.
“I’ve haven’t let an investigation beat me yet,” I concurred.
“And most assuredly, you won’t now. So, tell me what else is bothering you so much.”
My ex-fiancé has moved on with his life. Of course I didn’t say that. It was only one of my problems anyway. Problems came in groups, that’s what my whole life had taught me. Not groups, more like flocks. Flocks of angry birds that nose-dived at you with a vengeance.
I ran through the investigation with him, including being interrogated, and ending with my conversation with Roberto.
“Sounds like an interesting case. I find it especially interesting that the brother of this Rose lady who died has been hired by Zollin Industries. Do you know what area of the company he’s working in?”
I felt myself loosening up some. “Not yet. I need to talk to Paulette about it. Tonight would have been the perfect opportunity, but I guess I missed that. Had too many other things on my mind, I suppose.”
“What do you think about what Roberto said about her?”
“He’s just trying to make her look bad.”
“She does have a bit of a reputation in the area.”
I turned to Garrett. “What do you mean?”
Garrett dropped his hands. “I mean, sometimes she looks a bit vacant and other times she looks all fired up. She seems a little off sometimes. I hate to say it, but it’s true.”
“I didn’t know you knew her even. She never gave any indication of that, nor did you.” I felt a little insulted by this twist.
“Of course I know them. A lot of the business owners in this area know each other from the various luncheons and fundraisers we attend. Paulette and I aren’t friends, not even acquaintances really. But I know who she is. Trent Castlerock spoke about her quite a bit when the acquisition of the school was taking place. He thought for sure that she’d fail and the whole project would shut down. The Cultural Arts Center made it farther than he ever assumed.”
“You mean, Donabell’s husband?”
Garrett grimaced. “Perhaps I shouldn’t have brought him up.”
“No, it’s fine. Anyone who’d marry Donabell can’t be that great a judge of character, though.” I heard my harsh words and flinched. “That wasn’t nice.”
Garrett put his hand on my back. “No, it wasn’t.”
I rubbed my temples. “I’m a work in progress.”
“You’re too hard on yourself.”
We sat there for a moment and I realized just how good Garrett was to me. He was patient and encouraging and he was always there for me to lean on. He made my heart flutter and had so many qualities that I admired. He’d even started coming to church with me.
Maybe I needed to stop looking back and just focus on what was ahead. I needed to keep applying for new jobs. I needed to keep my options open. Most of all, I needed to cut myself some slack.
I stood and walked to the sliding doors leading to his balcony. “You mind?”
“Not at all.”
I stepped outside. Instantly, the fresh, frigid air revived my senses. I crossed my arms and looked over downtown as I tried to sort my thoughts.
“What are you thinking, Love?” Garrett asked.
He stepped behind me, and I could feel the heat emanating from him. It made me want to cuddle in his arms and stay warm and cozy.
I looked up at him, my heart pounding in my ears. “I’m thinking you’re a really good guy, Garrett.”
He leaned closer. “Is that right?”
My throat felt achy as I absorbed his very pleasant features. Was I ready for this? Really ready? “It is.”
His fingers brushed my jawline. “I’m really glad to know you think that.”
Electricity crackled between us we moved closer to one another.
Maybe I’d never know if there was something between us unless I gave it a shot. Maybe I just needed to stop holding back.
I leaned toward Garrett.
Before our lips connected, the door to Garrett’s apartment flew open. A loud bang shook the room as smoke filled the air.
Just what was going on?
CHAPTER 20
“Police! Down on the floor! Now!” a voice demanded through the smoke.
What in the world? I clutched Garrett’s hand as we stepped inside, ready to clear this up.
“I said down on the floor!” A man appeared from the haziness with some kind of high-powered rifle in his hands. He had full body gear on and a SWAT vest.
I was coughing so badly I could hardly think. I didn’t have time to argue—and I had better sense. I lay on the floor, face down and hands out. Garrett did the same.
I turned my head, and at least six police officers in SWAT uniform came into view.
“Sir, are you okay?” one of the officers asked Garrett. He helped him to his feet and pulled him back.
“Of course I’m okay. What’s going on?” he demanded.
I started to stand, also. The officers had obviously realized this was a terrible misunderstanding. That’s why they were talking kindly to Garrett now.
“Stay down!” the officer yelled my way. “Cuff her!”
“Cuff me? What is going on?” I was seriously confused.
“Don’t hurt her!” Garrett lunged toward me, but an officer held him back. “What’s the nature of this?”
Another officer slapped some cuffs on my wrists and pulled me to my feet with enough force that my arms felt like they might snap. He pushed me against the wall.
“Search the house!” the oversized, testosterone-filled, man-in-charge ordered.
Another officer kicked the remains of a flashbang grenade out of the way. Finally the air started to clear, revealing a whole army of police officers dressed like they were going to war. The terror coursing through me intensified. In fact, as more details came together in my mind, I felt more distressed than ever.
I caught a glimpse of Garrett’s door, hanging loosely on one hinge. Had the police used a battering ram to get inside?
Something was seriously messed up now. If there was an emergency in the building, like a fire or bomb threat, we’d already have been ushered out in an evacuation.
Instead I felt like we were the danger. Or, in all reality, that I was the danger.
“I insist you take those handcuffs off her!” Garrett started toward me again.
Rambo’s bossy twin brother stopped him again. “We’ll decide that.”
“I demand to know what’s going on—why you’ve charged into my residence like this!” The veins at Garrett’s temples bulged and his eyes were wide with outrage.
“We received a report of a hostage situation here at the house,” Rambo informed us.
“From who?” Garrett asked. Emotion charged through his voice.
“From you,” the officer said, a tinge of exasperation in his voice. “Gabby St. Claire went over the edge and was holding you at gunpoint. You feared for your life and requested immediate assistance.”
“I never made any such call. Now, can you please let her go? You have a lot of explaining to do.”
“Everyone, stand down!” Rambo Jr. ordered. He raised the shield covering his face and lowered his gun. “Sir, the call came from your IP address.”
“From my IP address? That’s impossible. Ms. St. Claire and I have been conversing for the past hour. We haven’t been apart once. Besides, why would I make a call from my computer?”
I nodded in agreement, desperate for them to know that Garrett was telling the truth. “No one’s been on his computer. At least …” Another thought occurred. “No one that we know about.”
“The apartment is clear, sir,” another officer said.
“Ma’am, I’d like you to go with Officer Klausen. I need a moment alone with Mr. Mercer,” Rambo said.
Garre
tt reached for me. “She’s not going anywhere, not until I have some idea what’s going on here. This is my home, and you’ve all just invaded my space—and what was starting as a lovely evening with a lovely woman.”
If there was one thing I could say about Garrett, it was that he knew how to be in charge. He didn’t run a successful company by being indecisive. I appreciated his protective gesture now.
Rambo sighed, long and hard. We’d obviously disrupted his plans for the night—said plans being doing a war zone-like raid on someone’s home. What was second on his agenda? Doing Tarzan calls and beating his chest? Scaling downtown buildings simply for the practical experience of it?
“Someone logged into the 911 service that’s meant for hearing impaired residents in this area and wrote that a woman named Gabby St. Claire had entered this residence and was holding you hostage. Immediate assistant was requested.”
“I assure you that I did not.”
“We knocked to announce our presence, but there was no answer,” Rambo continued.
“We were on the balcony and the music was playing,” Garrett continued. “We didn’t hear you.”
“We take these calls seriously,” Rambo said.
My mind was in another world, though. “Someone must have gained access to his IP address and hacked into it,” I mumbled. “But why?”
“If it’s a joke, it’s a dangerous joke for someone to play,” the officer continued. “I’ll gather up my guys and let you return to what you were doing. We’d like permission to have one of our forensic techs look at your computer. It’s doubtful we’ll be able to trace the person behind this, but it’s worth a shot.”
“I want some answers,” Garrett said, wrapping his arm around my waist. “I want to know who did this.”
“There’s a new crime wave called swatting sweeping the country,” Rambo continued. “It’s where people, oftentimes gamers, place fake calls warranting SWAT team raids. It’s causing many dilemmas in the law enforcement community.”
Was this in some way tied in with the crimes going on with the musical? Someone had known my name. They’d known where I was. They’d known there was a possibility that I’d get hurt or even be arrested.
Christy Barritt - Squeaky Clean 08 - Foul Play Page 13