The Sierra Files Box Set: Books 1-3: Plus a bonus Christmas novella!

by Christy Barritt

  The video continued to record a group of costumed adults. Yes, these were definitely people who were dressed up as superheroes. They wore all kinds of crazy outfits with capes and leotards and masks. It could have been shot at some kind of convention, based on the comic book signs in the background. Could this get weirder?

  The man taking the video laughed, at first lightly, but harder and harder as he zoomed in on one person. It was a man wearing a gold cape, red tights, and a blue onesie. I gasped when I saw his bushy mustache.

  “I can’t believe this,” the man recording the video whispered. “There he is. Brian Bunch, Mr. Tough Ex-Military Security Expert. What does he do in his free time? He dresses like a superhero. A superhero!” The man cackled.

  A bit of a green leaf appeared at the edge of the screen. Someone was recording this while hiding. Tag. It had to be Tag.

  “I think you found your motive,” Gabby said. “Putting something like this online would put Brian’s reputation in jeopardy, which fits after Tag was fired. It would be humiliating. It could make someone mad enough . . . to murder.”

  “I need to talk to Brian.”

  “How are you going to track him down tonight?”

  I hit a few more keys until I found his social media profile. Thankfully, Brian was the type of person who liked to announce to the world where he was going. It wasn’t very smart for someone who prided himself in being a security expert. But it worked to my advantage right now.

  I pointed to the screen at the words “Holden’s Gym” before looking at Gabby. “I’m going to work out. You want to come?”

  A huge grin spread across her face. “You know it.”

  Reef cooed in agreement.

  “Do you think I look out of place being here with Reef?” I asked.

  “Like a beach house in Colorado,” Gabby muttered, glancing around the gym. “But you know what they say? Go big or go home.”

  She started singing a song by the same name, holding an imaginary microphone and raising her other hand in the air like she was in concert. Her mini show only lasted about ten seconds before she got serious again. It was classic Gabby.

  I looked around. This wasn’t one of those family-friendly gyms with a childcare area and a smoothie bar. No, this was a small gym full of bodybuilders, sweat, and lots of grunting.

  Gabby and I stood out like . . . well, beach houses in Colorado. Gabby wore her jeans, T-shirt, and flip-flops. I wore khakis, and a black T-shirt with loafers. Nothing about us screamed, “I want to work out!”

  “Can I help you?” a sculpted woman at the front desk asked.

  Just as she asked the question, I spotted Brian Bunch walking toward the exit with a towel draped over his shoulders.

  Perfect!

  “No, we’re good,” I told the woman, quickly doing a U-turn and falling in step beside Brian. “Fancy seeing you here.”

  He paused and stared at me a moment as Gabby came up on his other side. He visibly bristled.

  “You came into my office Friday,” he finally said, looking tense and as if he expected a confrontation.

  I nodded and pushed my glasses up higher on my nose. “I did.”

  “What are you doing here? I can only assume you’re not working out. Not wearing that and with a baby strapped to your chest.”

  “Well, carrying him is quite the workout, but you’re right. I’m here to talk to you.”

  He paused by the door, which was good. I wanted to talk to him in public where there would be plenty of witnesses.

  “About what?” he asked, his gaze still suspicious.

  “Tag Wilson, of course.”

  Something flickered in his eyes. “I already answered your questions.”

  “We have more,” Gabby added.

  Brian twisted his head ever-so-slightly as he turned to look at Gabby. “Who are you?”

  “She’s one of the area’s top forensic experts,” I answered. It was a slight exaggeration. Actually, Gabby was brilliant. Some people were just slow to recognize that.

  “Forensic expert?” He squinted, partly with alarm. “I’m still not sure what you both are doing here.”

  Gabby nodded at me. This was usually her territory, but she was giving me the lead here to launch my questions.

  “We know you went to Patrick Roper’s apartment a couple of days before your former employee Tag Wilson died,” I said.

  He shrugged, his gaze scanning the gym behind me.

  He was uncomfortable and cornered. Good. I didn’t want him to be too relaxed.

  “So what if I did? Is that illegal?” His arms went to his hips.

  “How exactly did you know Patrick?” Gabby asked.

  “I didn’t. I’d only heard about him. Tag had started talking about those stupid snakes nonstop in the days before I fired him. Mr. Tough Guy didn’t want to admit it, but he hated snakes. That was why he wanted his neighbor to get rid of them.”

  “What’s that have to do with you visiting Patrick?” I asked, still not connecting the dots.

  He sighed and looked to the side again. He was contemplating whether or not to tell us the truth or a lie. He had the classic body language for it. I hoped he chose wisely because I was going to find out either way.

  His jaw flexed but he said nothing.

  Maybe he just needed some more prodding. “I know about the video Tag posted of you wearing the . . . well, you know.” I glanced around, trying to make it clear that I’d announce his secret to anyone close enough to hear.

  Brian’s cheeks turned red. “My lawyer drew up a cease and desist letter for Tag. He had no business posting that video for all the world to see, nor did he have any grounds for following me. That’s called stalking.”

  “Why did he do it? Did he hate you that much?”

  His jaw flexed. “He threatened to post it if I didn’t rescind the termination of his job and reinstate him.”

  “A type of blackmail, huh? Tag wasn’t a very nice person, was he?”

  Brian scowled, becoming tenser by the moment. “You could say that.”

  “Apparently you stood strong and didn’t rehire him,” I said, prodding for more information.

  “That’s right. I can’t let bullies get what they want. I gave him plenty of warnings concerning his job, and he made no effort to change. He’s typical of today’s society—he wants to blame everyone else for his own failings.”

  “It sounds like he must have been very bitter,” I said.

  “To say the least. He said he had bills to pay. I get that. I do.”

  “He could have just gotten another job,” Gabby said.

  “Exactly! It’s a free market. Only I had a non-compete disclosure in his contract.” Something close to satisfaction stained his gaze, like he enjoyed having the upper hand.

  “Why?” Gabby asked. “Do you have proof of concept ideas or something? That kind of clause is usually reserved for innovative types of businesses.”

  “We do a few things that are highly specialized. If my competitors were to learn our exact methods, my business could be compromised.”

  “So he couldn’t have simply gotten another job. It sounds more complicated than that.” I thought about that as two body builders pushed their way past. “You’re a tough guy. It’s like you said: you didn’t want that video out there.”

  He tugged at the collar of his muscle shirt, which was already plenty loose. “Look, I know it’s weird. I know what people think. But it’s nice sometimes just to feel anonymous, and that’s what those costumes allow. As strange as it may seem, it’s my release from the stress of managing my business.”

  “That still doesn’t explain why you went to Patrick’s apartment,” I countered, trying still to get to that prized pearl at the center of this.

  He shrugged stiffly. “I just wanted to teach him a lesson.”

  “By scaring him with a snake?” Gabby countered.

  “It wasn’t like that. I just wanted to prank him. Catch it on video. Have something
to hold as leverage over him. I thought Tag’s neighbor might want to get in on it with me. It’s hard enough to get a date, without a video like that out there.” He squirmed and ran a hand through his thick hair.

  “Did your prank turn into murder?” I asked.

  His gaze scanned everyone around us, and he let out a nervous laugh. “Of course not! I learned that Patrick wasn’t home so I backed off. It was a decision I contemplated in the heat of the moment. I knew Tag was gone all day, working the fields at a farm in Virginia Beach for some extra cash, so I stopped by. As soon as I learned that Patrick was out of town, I forgot about it.”

  Ah ha! That’s why Tag had manure on his boots. “Can you prove that you weren’t involved?”

  He pressed his lips together before letting out a long sigh. “That night I had another meeting with my . . . superhero friends. They can verify I was there all night. I’ll give you their phone numbers. Just please—don’t let this leak. My business—not to mention my reputation—would be ruined.”

  “I’ll take those phone numbers,” I said, reserving my judgment, as well as any promises.

  “Let’s make this quick,” he said. “I’ve got to get Grandma to Purls Gone Wild.”

  Purls Gone Wild? I could totally see his grandmother fitting right in to a group like that.

  Tomorrow I had two objectives: I had to get back to work, and I had to get Mandee out of jail. Basically, I needed to put all of this behind me, and that meant I had to get busy nailing down some answers.

  I was getting close. I could feel it, like a wolf sensing prey hiding just out of sight.

  Chapter Seventeen

  “So, where does this leave us?” Gabby asked once we were back in my car. “Any other suspects?”

  I sighed, beginning to get a headache from the rush of adrenaline compounded with pulsating questions. The good news was that Reef was asleep in the back, so I had a moment to breathe and think.

  I stared out the front window at the dark parking lot stretched before us and the fast food restaurant at the street. Thank goodness, I wasn’t craving meat anymore like I had been when I was pregnant. Talk about feeling like a hypocrite.

  “Provided that Brian’s alibi really does hold up . . . I don’t know,” I finally said.

  “Maybe we need to widen the circle of suspects. Sometimes the most unexpected person is connected and responsible. Is there anyone else you talked to? Maybe someone who seemed innocent or even helpful, but who could somehow be involved?”

  I let my head fall back against the rest behind me and stared out into the dark night. I racked my brain for another idea. So far every lead that had seemed promising had fizzled into nothing. “I suppose there was the neighbor across the hall from Tag. He was drinking before ten a.m., which indicates to me that he could have some problems.”

  “I grew up around that, so I concur with your conclusion,” Gabby said. “Does this neighbor have motive, means, or opportunity?”

  I shrugged. “Opportunity, I guess. He’s probably seen people grab Patrick’s spare key from beneath the doormat. That’s all I know. There was also another neighbor in the building who was very adamant when telling the police about Mandee’s argument with Tag over Zumba. Maybe she protested so much to take the attention off herself.”

  “It’s a possibility.”

  Anything was at this point. My two main suspects apparently had alibis. I was no good at this solving mysteries thing. I should just stick with my crusades to help animals. However, I wasn’t feeling that great about my work there either lately.

  “Who am I kidding? All of this is a stretch. What if someone I haven’t even looked at did this? Or what if the police are right? What if Mandee is somehow accidentally responsible for this? Or what if it was just a terrible mistake? Maybe I’ve been wasting all my time on nothing.” I almost wanted to cry again, but I didn’t allow myself.

  “Don’t give up. Not yet.” She paused. “I’m curious, Sierra. Did Mandee ever tell you where she left that crowbar that was later found in the dumpster?”

  I tried to recall our conversation. “She said she used it on the dishwasher. She’s a bit of a slob, so I’d bet she left the crowbar on the kitchen counter afterward—wherever was most convenient. She said she didn’t throw it away until the next day, after she had the brilliant realization as she slept. Why?”

  “I know you’re tired, but can we go back to Patrick’s apartment one more time?” Gabby asked.

  My need for closure superseded my need for rest at the moment. “Sure. Why?”

  “There’s just one thing I want to check out. It’s a hunch.”

  Reef was currently sleeping, Chad was out of town, and I didn’t have to be at work for twelve more hours. It sounded like a win-win to me.

  “Why not?” I said.

  I put the car in reverse and set off to find more answers.

  “You’re here again,” the drunk neighbor from across the hall said when we walked into the building.

  Could this man have anything to do with all this? I hadn’t even begun to explore what his history with Tag or Patrick might be. I was simply taking the man’s word for it that he and Tag used to be chummy.

  At the same time, I was nearly too exhausted to start all over from scratch. I hoped Gabby’s reasoning for wanting to come to Patrick’s apartment had merit. Knowing Gabby, it did. She had an eye for things other people missed.

  “Yes, we’re back. Still trying to find some answers,” I finally said to the neighbor.

  “It’s like Grand Central around here lately.”

  His words caused me to pause. “What do you mean? Exactly who else has been by?”

  “This guy who looked like he could tear my head off with one hand tied behind his back stopped by about thirty minutes ago,” he said. “The word ‘Viking’ was stitched into his jacket, and that seemed like a perfect description. He was looking for Patrick. I told him he was out of town.”

  My throat constricted. Members of that motorcycle gang were still looking for Patrick. Were they angry enough to kill him?

  Maybe, just maybe, Gabby was right and I’d drawn a circle that wasn’t large enough. However, the last thing I wanted was to start back at the beginning.

  “I take it there have been other people also?” Gabby said. “Besides the Viking guy.”

  “Now you guys are here. That other chick was staying here before that. The police have been in and out. That’s not to mention my mom. Suddenly, she’s Mrs. Social and she’s having knitting club at our place every week.”

  “Are you always here to see everything?” I asked, curious how he had so much time.

  “I’m outta work on disability. Hurt my back working construction.”

  “I see.”

  I didn’t offer any other information. I really just wanted to wrap up this conversation and go inside Patrick’s place.

  Finally, he took the hint, said goodnight, and disappeared into his apartment. As soon as he was gone, we hurried up the stairs. I grabbed the key from its hiding spot, and we scrambled inside Patrick’s apartment. I made sure to lock the door behind us.

  We needed to be careful, just in case those motorcycle guys came back.

  “Okay, why are we here?” I finally asked.

  “I want to look at that vent.”

  “The vent?” I repeated, trying to follow her reasoning.

  “It’s just a hunch. It could be nothing. But, at this point, what have we got to lose?”

  We walked back to the snake room. I kept Reef close to me, just in case there were any more delinquent snakes around. Reef was not going out of my sight while I was in this apartment.

  Gabby knelt down at the vent. She pulled the cover in and out, in and out, several times. Finally, she stood and stared down at it.

  “I’m trying to follow,” I told her. “I really am. But I have no idea what you’re doing.”

  Her gaze remained on the vent. “Why did someone need to pry this from the floor?”
>
  I shrugged. “Because it was in there too tight?”

  She shook her head. “But it wasn’t. Even though it’s slightly dented now, it’s not tight. Based on the hole in the floor and the size of the vent cover, it never was too tight.”

  “I’m still not following. I blame it on my lack of sleep lately. Why does it matter if it was tight or not?”

  Her hand went to her hip and she started doing that pacing thing again. “Whoever used that crowbar didn’t need to use it to pry the vent from a tight space. They could have easily used their fingertips. They used it for another reason.”

  “To implicate Mandee and show malicious intent?” I asked.

  “That’s a good guess. But there were other ways someone could have implicated her. Besides, how did they know she used the crowbar and that her prints would be there?”

  “Good question.”

  She paused and nodded as if her thoughts were finally coming together. “I think they used it because they couldn’t bend down to the floor to remove it.”

  “You mean . . . like someone with a bad back?” My thoughts went to the neighbor across the hall.

  “Possibly.”

  I nodded as her theory sank in. “You’re right. Someone probably looked around the apartment for something to help get that vent cover off. This person found the crowbar that Mandee had used on the dishwasher, borrowed it, and then put it in the trash on their way out, just in case any evidence had been left. They wanted to cover up evidence they’d used it, just to be on the safe side.”

  “Sounds plausible.”

  “This same person may have played with the latch on Chalice’s enclosure to make it extra easy for the snake to get out also. Besides, Mandee did leave for a few hours that night, so someone had enough time. Knowing Mandee, she probably posted online that she was going to a My Little Pony marathon.”

  “Maybe those marks on the floor were from a snare pole—I think that’s what they’re called. Maybe that was the original plan but it didn’t work out.

  “Who has a pole?”

  “Jim, but he has an alibi.”