Organized Grime (Squeaky Clean Mysteries)

by Christy Barritt

  I spotted Tree in the corner sipping on some water. He was just as I remembered. Tall and thin with sandy brown hair. In fact, his frame kind of reminded me of a barren tree in the winter. Stick thin and all limbs.

  He nodded when he saw me, but didn’t even attempt a smile. “Gabby.”

  I slid into the booth across from him. “Tree. Thanks for meeting me.”

  “Any word on Sierra?”

  I shook my head. I wouldn’t even mention those phone calls she’d made to me. I didn’t know if I could trust him yet, and I didn’t want to offer any more information than necessary. “No, I have no idea where she is or what happened.” That was the truth.

  “Why did you need to meet with me?”

  “Rumor has it that you were one of the last people who saw her.”

  He shrugged. “I don’t know when she disappeared, so I don’t know if that’s true or not.”

  The waitress came but I waved her away, not wanting to waste any time. Instead, I leaned across the table. “Look, it’s like this. I can go to the FBI with that tidbit and they can question you themselves. I’m giving you the chance right now to set the record straight. I know you saw Sierra before she disappeared. Were you the last person?” I shrugged purposefully. “I don’t know. That’s what I’m trying to find out. So why don’t you tell me where you were last Friday?”

  He looked in the distance and drew in a tight breath. He’d always seemed a bit brittle and uptight, but even more so today. “I did see her on Friday. She came by my place.”

  “Why?”

  He ran his hand over the condensation on his glass. “She wanted to pick up some papers from me.”

  “Papers that told her how to build bombs and use them for ecoterrorism purposes?”

  Just barely, and just for a millisecond, I saw his eyebrows flicker in surprise. “Yes, I did give her those papers, but not on Friday.”

  “Why in the world would you give her those papers? She’s not the bomb building type.”

  His gaze flickered up to me. “You’re right. She’s not. She wanted to get the information out of my hands so I didn’t do anything stupid.”

  “So you were thinking about bombing something? Harrison Developers, perhaps?”

  He shook his head. His gaze looked burdened…or guilty. “It’s not like that.”

  “Tell me what it’s like then.”

  His nostrils flared again, and he remained silent a second. He pushed back in the booth and, for a moment, I thought he might flee. Instead, he sighed. “It’s complicated, Gabby.”

  “That’s what everyone keeps telling me. Make it uncomplicated.”

  “She didn’t want me to do something I’d regret. She came over to talk me out of it.”

  “Did it work?”

  He paused again before nodding. “It did. I saw the error of my ways.”

  “Why do I feel like there’s more to this story?”

  His gaze shifted again. The action made him seem untrustworthy. “She left after giving me a verbal lashing. I haven’t seen her since then.”

  “Do you have any idea where she went after she left your place?”

  “No.” His gaze shifted again.

  “I don’t believe you.”

  “What do you want me to do? Lie to you? I don’t know.”

  “There’s something you’re not telling me.”

  “You’re grasping at straws. I’ve told you everything I know.”

  “Don’t you even care that your friend is in danger?”

  He tapped the table and stared at me. “I do care. I don’t want her to get hurt.”

  “So tell me more.”

  He stared at me another moment, and I thought he was going to tell me something that would blow my investigation out of the water. I stared back, waiting, trying not to break the moment. He opened his mouth, but then shook his head. “That’s all I know. That’s it.” He stood up and tossed some money on the table. “Take care, Gabby.”

  I leaned back into the booth and closed my eyes. Really? I’d have more luck trying to infiltrate the mob than I was having trying to break this case.

  My cell phone rang, breaking me out of my raging thoughts. I saw the number listed as the Norfolk Police Department. Interesting. Why were they calling me?

  With a lead in the case? Like I’d be that lucky. But still, a girl could dream. I popped the phone to my ear. “Gabby St. Claire.”

  “Gabby, it’s your dad.” His voice sounded strange. Low, mellow…craggy with emotion.

  My alerts instantly went to red. “What’s going on, Dad?”

  “Gabby, I need you to come down to the police station.”

  I straightened in the booth, feeling as rigid as Tree had looked. “Are you okay? What happened?”

  “I need you to bail me out.”

  I froze, my thoughts screeching to a halt. “Bail you out? Dad, what’s going on?”

  “I was arrested for drunk driving.”

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  I glared at my father from across the table in the police precinct. I shouldn’t have paid his bail. I should have let him rot in jail. So why didn’t I? Why was I here, making life too easy for him again?

  “Let’s go.” I started toward the door, not bothering to check if he was following me.

  Unfortunately, he was. Outside, he climbed into my van. We sat there in silence for several minutes before I finally found some words.

  “What happened? I thought you’d turned over a new leaf?”

  He looked terrible with his red-rimmed eyes and unshaven face. His wrinkles even seemed deeper today. “I thought I did too. I don’t know what happened. Teddi and I got into a big fight. I did what I do best. I started drinking, hoping to drown out my troubles.”

  I tapped my finger on the steering wheel, trying to rein in some patience. No luck. “Did it work?”

  My dad openly cried again. I’d never seen him cry before this week, and now I’d seen him weep twice. I didn’t have any tissues, so I handed him a fast food napkin, the best I had at the moment. He blotted his eyes and blew his nose with enough force to wake an army. “I shouldn’t have done it. Old habits are just so easy to fall back into.”

  My compassion was running low today. “You said you were past this.” I started my van and pulled onto the street, my patience also depleted apparently.

  “I thought I was past it.”

  “You could have killed someone.” Didn’t he know how serious drunk driving was? I knew he did.

  “I know.”

  “You’re going to have your license taken away from you, and I’m not going to drive you around everywhere, Dad. I’m done with this.” I sliced my hand through the air. “You’re a grown man. I’m sorry for all the bad things that have happened to you in life, but do you know what? Bad things have happened to me too. I lost my mother. My brother was kidnapped. I had an alcoholic for a father. Do you think those things were easy? Do you think I wanted to drop out of college? Did you think I wanted to give my freeloading father money to pay his bills because he claimed he couldn’t work himself?”

  My dad started to say something, but I forged ahead. I jammed my finger into my chest with enough force that I nearly flinched. “Why did I do that? I did it because I felt guilty. I felt like it was my fault you were like this. If I had just kept an eye on Tim that day, you wouldn’t have turned to alcohol. I thought that you were my fault.”

  His wrinkles on his face seemed to ripple with pain as he grimaced. “I’m sorry, Gabby. I’ve been a terrible father.”

  “You’re right. You have been. And then you said you turned over this new leaf, that you were a new person. Your son is back in your life even. You have no excuses.” I pulled up to a red light, fuming. I could feel the steam coming out of my ears, and I knew I should stop myself. But I couldn’t. I’d bottled these things up inside me for years. Maybe this wasn’t the way I should express them, but it might be my only shot.

  My dad opened his door and s
tepped out onto the street, between the cars at the light.

  “What are you doing?”

  “I’m sorry, Gabby. I won’t mess up your life anymore.” His voice crackled as he slammed the door and walked away, dodging traffic.

  I lowered my head onto the steering wheel. I’d really screwed that one up, hadn’t I? Dad was trying to do better and I’d raked him over the coals.

  I closed my eyes, my head pounding.

  Should I follow him? Chase him down and apologize?

  The car behind me pressed on their horn, so I had no choice but to turn—away from my dad. Maybe it was best that way.

  ***

  “You sure you’re okay, Gabby? You’re not acting like yourself.”

  I nodded, still staring off into space as I sat across from Riley at The Grounds. I hadn’t even touched my latte yet, and me with a cold latte was never a good sign. Riley had known me long enough to know that.

  “Yeah, I’m okay.” But my voice sounded listless, even to my own ears.

  He reached across the table until his fingers touched mine. Those lovely blue eyes of his met mine. “Give your dad some time. Give yourself some time. And then talk again. You guys can work this out.”

  At the mention of my dad, all happy thoughts vanished. “He got drunk and went driving around town, Riley. He could have killed someone. He could have killed himself. He tells everyone that he’s changed, but he hasn’t.”

  “Sometimes change takes time, Gabby. What he did was horrible. I agree with you, and I don’t have any tolerance for drunk driving. More so, I’m sorry he hurt you. I know you’ve been trying to repair your relationship for a long time now.”

  I straightened, not wanting to talk about this anymore. I had to figure some things out and wrestle with my own thoughts for awhile before anything would make sense.

  Instead, I looked beyond Riley. I looked at those paintings that depicted my life. Sharon had offered to take them down, but I told her not to. I still held onto the hope that maybe I’d be able to corner the artist if she stopped by again.

  I had so much to process.

  My thoughts drifted to Sierra again. Where was my friend right now? It wasn’t the same hanging out here without her. I needed to hear her crazy stories. I needed to tell her my crazy stories so she could tell her crazy friends. I wanted her to be here laughing with me about whatever misunderstanding it was that had stirred up this whole mess.

  Would that be how this all ended? Would we ever be able to laugh about this situation? Or would it end in tragedy?

  My cell phone rang—again. Who was it this time with bad news? I saw Parker’s number on my caller ID. My stomach sank. “What is it?”

  “Someone else has been murdered, Gabby.”

  “And you’re calling to tell me. That’s a first.”

  “You haven’t been here to clean up because the scene hasn’t been released. There’s a picture of Sierra here, though. I thought you’d want to know.”

  “What do you mean a picture of Sierra?”

  “Someone stuck it on the bookshelf between pictures of the family.”

  “What kind of picture is it?”

  “Gabby, I don’t know how to tell you this, but it’s a picture of her with a bullet between her eyes.”

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  The room felt like it was spinning. “I want to see it.”

  “You can’t see it. It’s evidence. Besides, you shouldn’t see it.”

  “Is it real? Is the photo real?” It couldn’t be. This couldn’t be true.

  “We’ll send it to our lab for them to look at it. It’s hard to say.”

  “Who died this time?” Which crime scene was this at?

  “I can’t release that information. The family hasn’t been told yet. As soon as the information is public, I’ll let you know.”

  A sob escaped as my phone fell to the floor. I closed my eyes. Pinched the bridge of my nose.

  “What is it?” Riley, who’d been staring at me, eyebrows scrunched, now slid his chair across the floor until he was beside me. “Your dad?”

  I shook my head. “Sierra. They found a picture of her. Dead. She’s dead.”

  Riley pulled me into his arms. “I’m so sorry, Gabby.”

  “This is my fault. I should have helped her. I should have tracked down the bad guys faster. She begged for my help every time she called, but I failed her.”

  His piercing gaze met mine. “That’s ridiculous. You’re not guilty here, Gabby. Whoever is playing this terrible game is.”

  No, I wouldn’t relinquish—my guilt or my responsibility—that easily. “I shouldn’t have been having shrimp boils and rejoicing that my brother is home again. I shouldn’t have even been going to class or bailing out my dad. I should have been spending every moment looking for my friend.”

  He shook his head, probably the way he did in court when he argued before a jury. “You did everything you could. You followed every lead. You’ve been worrying yourself sick. Gabby, you’ve got to listen to me. This isn’t your fault. Do you understand that?”

  I barely heard him. “I’m going to figure out who did this. I will find them...”

  “I don’t like this, Gabby. I don’t know what’s going on here, but I don’t like it. I think you should step back from this investigation.”

  Step back from this investigation. Those words pulled me from my daze and ignited something in me. “Nothing can keep me away now. Nothing.” I wiped a tear that flowed down my cheek. “I hate this. I really hate this.”

  Riley cupped my cheek with his hand. “I’m so sorry, Gabby.”

  He held me for a moment. I tried to digest everything, but I couldn’t. I needed some space for a moment.

  I pulled back and grabbed a napkin to wipe under my eyes. “Riley, would you go get some ice cream?”

  “Ice cream?”

  I nodded. “Chocolate ice cream. I just need to process things, and ice cream always helps. I know the request seems odd, but…”

  He nodded, seeming to understand. “Don’t explain. Do you want to go with me?”

  I shook my head. “I’ll wait here.”

  “I’ll run to the market up the street and when I get back we’ll go back up to your place and try to sort this out. Okay? There’s nothing you can do right now, so we might as well talk and clear our heads.”

  Ice cream. Talking through things with Riley. I could handle those two things.

  Most of all, I could handle a few minutes alone so I could figure out my next plan of action. Who should I track down first about this? Lydia maybe? Broken Arrow?

  I nodded. “It’s a plan.”

  ***

  I tried to wait at The Grounds, but I really just wanted a moment alone and I wasn’t getting that here among the chatter of patrons and strands of acoustic love songs. Instead, I crossed the street, trying to ignore the frigid wind that crept through my clothing and chilled me to the bone. I’d told Sharon to pass on the message to Riley that I’d headed back to my place.

  My head pounded when I walked up to the apartment building. How could this have happened? Could it be true? Could Sierra really be dead?

  Could things be any more of a mess? And, to top everything off, I’d missed my class tonight. I couldn’t miss any more. I had to graduate or I’d let myself down—again. I wasn’t sure my ego could survive another disappointment like that.

  At least I was alive to even contemplate these things.

  I nearly felt too exhausted to even lift my key and shove it into the lock. Somehow, I managed. Inside, the stairway was dark. Had the light burned out again? Something had to be wrong with the socket. I needed to tell our landlord about it, because I was tired of changing that light bulb myself.

  I stopped in front of Sierra’s door and felt more tears prick my eyes. She wasn’t dead. I refused to believe that it was true. She’d emerge from her apartment again one day with a plate of acorn brownies in her hands. Or she’d be wearing her tiger costume
that she liked to don when protesting the circus. Sierra… well, she’d made me feel normal with her outlandish ways and that was quite an accomplishment in itself.

  I took a step toward the stairs when I heard a creak. I paused. Or did I hear a creak? This place was old and full of odd sounds.

  I tried to ignore that tension that pinched my back muscles, tried to ration that I was paranoid.

  Just as my hand gripped the railing, a figure flew out from behind the staircase. His fist collided with my face, the force of the punch knocking me into the wall before I slid down onto the floor. My world began spinning, and I tried to right it. But before I could, another punch connected with my jaw.

  Everything blurred around me as pain screamed down every inch of my body.

  A man. Dressed in black. Ski mask. I tried to observe and soak everything in. I never got very far, though. His fist rammed into my stomach, knocking the wind out of me.

  Fight back, Gabby. Fight back.

  But I couldn’t even stand up. How could I fight back?

  This man was going to kill me, wasn’t he?

  Lord, help me.

  The man jerked me to my feet and threw me back into the wall. Before I could even scream, he jerked me toward him, spun me around and shoved me back against the wall again. He pressed into me, pinning my arms at my side.

  I could feel his breath on my neck and the very feel of it caused sickly sensations to pool in my stomach.

  I needed to fight back. But I couldn’t move. The parts of my body that didn’t ache felt frozen. Tears rushed to my eyes as fear caused trembles to overtake me.

  “Listen closely, Ms. St. Claire.”

  I said nothing, so he rammed me into the wall again. My forehead slammed into the wood causing flashes to blink in my vision. My shoulder collided with the wall also and a screeching pain ripped down my arm.

  “Are you listening?”

  I nodded.