“Gabby St. Claire knows how to clean up scum. She can get blood out of carpet, pick shattered bones from plaster, and clean up other less-than-enticing fluids from nearly any surface. St. Claire also knows how to clean up another kind of scum— the scum of the earth. She’s known around town as the girl who cleans up crime. The crime isn’t always blood and guts. She’s also cleaning up the streets by helping to put the bad guys behind bars. How does she do it? By using her training in forensics at the very crime scenes she’s cleaning.” He nodded and took another sip of coffee, his eyes still fixated on the newspaper. “Nice article.”
I shrugged. “So I’ve been told.”
Yes, the article—which came out two months ago—was still on my kitchen counter, but I’m not an egomaniac. But when someone finally acknowledges that the work you do is valuable, you’ve got to hold on to it. This article had helped solidify my business in the community. It had made me a bit of a folk hero in some circles. And it had gotten the attention of the medical examiner’s office, the very place where I would love to be employed once I finally finished my degree in a matter of a few months.
Parker’s cell phone rang. He pulled it from his belt and flipped it open. His voice became softer. It must be Charlie. He wandered down the hallway, talking.
Again, I was so glad he’d made himself at home in my apartment. Just what I wanted my ex-boyfriends to do.
An ex-boyfriend who was now having a baby with his new girlfriend. Weird. Very weird.
And here I was, alone.
Okay, not really alone. I mean, Chad would date me if I said the word. And Riley, well, half the time he acted interested in me and the other half like he was having second thoughts. It doesn’t do much for a girl’s ego, but I take what I can get. Besides, I’ve sworn off dating for awhile. Thinking about Sierra kissing Henry was enough to make me swear it off for good.
Parker’s phone rang again, this time a good old reliable jangle instead of the softer chirp he had for Charlie. With the phone still to his ear, Parker charged toward my door. Uh oh. I stepped out of the way so quickly I nearly toppled my halogen lamp.
Parker held his hand over the mouth piece. “We’ve got to go. When Sierra comes home, call me. Got it?”
The three men rushed from my house like floodwaters escaping a dam. I rushed after them, swinging myself around the doorframe in time to see their figures trotting down the stairs.
“Wait! What’s wrong? What happened?” Had they found Sierra?
Parker didn’t even bother to glance back at me. “A bomb just went off downtown.”
“Oh.” A bomb was terrible, but at least that had nothing to do with Sierra.
Parker paused at the bottom of the stairs and looked up at me. “At the office of Harrison Developers.”
Chapter Three
I felt like a bomb had just gone off inside my head as I walked back into my apartment. Parker was way off base with this one. No way was Sierra involved in any of this craziness. She was crazy, but … I shook my head. No, she wasn’t this crazy.
Henry, on the other hand…
Sierra, I hope you didn’t get yourself involved with the wrong crowd.
I leaned against the door, my legs feeling like they might buckle any time. My temples suddenly started throbbing. My stomach turned in a not-so-appealing manner.
Sierra. Where are you?
My little friend had a big heart. Really she did. So what if she protested circuses and sent nasty letters to fast food restaurants and refused to eat eggs. So what if she’d been arrested for freeing crabs and coerced my friends and me into eating acorn brownies.
She was a decent human being. Graduated from Yale. She was smart enough to stay away from federal investigations. Right?
I wiped my forehead, noticed the moisture there. Darn it, Parker. He’d made me nervous enough that I was sweating.
Sierra was in trouble. I could feel it.
I propelled myself across the floor and grabbed my phone from the kitchen counter. I dialed Sierra’s number. I had to talk to her.
The phone went straight to voice mail.
Where had Sierra said she was going when she left earlier today? I closed my eyes, trying to remember the conversation. I pictured her and Henry leaving together. Where did they say they were going? If it was up to Henry, they’d probably be dumpster diving. But I couldn’t help but think that she’d said something about having a planning session…
I closed the phone and then flipped it open again. I tried Sierra’s number. Again I got her voicemail.
“Pick up the phone, Sierra!” I flipped the phone closed and slammed it on the counter. I had to get a grip, not assume the worst.
I forced myself to sit on the couch and try to relax, to pick up where I’d left off thirty minutes ago. Assuming things and speculating would get me nowhere. I needed to watch some late night TV and mind my own business.
Who was I kidding? When did I ever mind my own business?
I couldn’t just stay in my apartment by myself while my ex-boyfriend hunted down my best friend and caged her in jail like one of the poor little animals she fought so hard to save. I grabbed my keys, hurried downstairs and toward my van. I would go downtown and see what all the fuss was about.
The brittle nighttime air froze the breath in my lungs as soon as I stepped outside. I pulled my scarf tighter around my neck and ran to my van. I cranked the heat. Cold air blew through the heating vents.
“Come on!” I pulled my hands away from the vents, wishing more than anything that I’d remembered my gloves. There was nothing I could do about it now. I grabbed a towel from the back and threw it over the steering wheel, so the plastic wouldn’t feel like ice against my hands.
I started down the street like a bloodhound on the scent for quarry. As soon as I turned out of my neighborhood I spotted the plume of smoke rising between the towers of downtown. My heart went ice cold, joining in the rest of my body, as the severity of the situation fell over me. A bomb had gone off—and it had been a big one, not the chemistry class variety. In the distance, sirens wailed. A police car blurred past.
Harrison Developers. That’s where Parker said the explosion happened.
The company had been in the news a lot lately. James Harrison, the company’s CEO, had deep pockets and a huge ego. A performing arts center in neighboring Virginia Beach was named after him, as well as a minor league baseball stadium.
I’d met the man once, by accident really. I attended a benefit dinner with Riley and, in a moment of oblivion, spilled my punch right on the man’s tuxedo. The rich fifty-something had twittered around—his grey comb-over never moving once during the process, I might add. He’d stared at his stained shirt before proclaiming me a “stupid woman.” I’d tried to tell him a great solution for getting out stains, one I used all the time at crime scenes. That’s when he started muttering that he was going to call the police. Riley had politely led me away, doing his customary head shake.
Riley and I have known each other seven months, and I still don’t think he knows what to do with me. Of course, he is Mr. Straight Laced, one who gave up a prestigious job with a top law firm in order to help the less fortunate. Sometimes I wish I could just have a touch of his goodness.
Headlights glared in my rearview mirror. I readjusted it and cast aside my not-so-nice thoughts about tailgaters and what I’d like to do to them. I took side streets around traffic, following the smoke as far I could. Roadblocks stopped me at least six blocks before I reached the scene.
I circled back around and found a parking space on the street. As I pulled into the parallel spot, the car with the glaring headlights sped past. Was someone following me? Why would someone be following me? I had one answer: Parker. I bet he had one of his men tailing me, hoping I’d lead them to Sierra.
I slammed my car door shut and stomped away from my car, ready to give Parker a piece of my mind. But as I approached the road blocks, the reality of what had happened hit me. I prayed no
one had been inside the building when the explosion happened. Whoever was behind this had set the device to detonate at night, when everyone was at home with their families.
That sounded like… something someone with a heart would do. My throat tightened. Not Sierra, though…right?
I walked through the downtown business area. Several tall office buildings stood along the streets. Some of the structures were old, faded and chipped while others were newer, sleeker and more ornate. I knew from being down here before that none of the other buildings were as tall or eye-catching as the Harrison Developers building. The building, finished in marble and sculpted in detail in everything from the windowsills to the ritzy front entryway, had stood like a crown in the downtown area.
A crowd had already gathered to watch the tragedy unfold as if it were a TV crime drama. I couldn’t quite understand people’s fascination with the morbid. My theory was that we’d all become hardened and desensitized to it because of the gruesome crime shows on TV. We’d confused reality with fiction.
A fire truck, several police cars and some unmarked sedans were parked at various angles around the building. The smell of smoke and dust and ashes hung heavy in the air, tingling my nose and making me cough.
I craned my neck to see more and gasped at what stood—or didn’t stand, I should say—in the distance. The seven-story building in front of me looked like it had been part of a war zone. I supposed it had. Half of the structure lay crumbled at the ground. The building’s innards—where the offices used to be—were now exposed, along with metal beams, concrete and wires.
I closed my eyes a moment. Lord, what kind of monster would do something like this?
I opened my eyes again as an ambulance screamed onto the scene. In the distance, I spotted Parker on his cell phone again and the two other suits—Wilkerson and Stephens, I think—chatted with police officers. I shoved my hands into the pockets of my puffy coat, just then noticing how my fingers felt like ice cubes.
Everything seemed surreal, like something out of a movie. Only this movie wouldn’t be over and I wouldn’t return to life as always when I stepped from the theater. Tragedy had occurred. Lives would be changed by this. Certainly the landscape of the city had been.
If the building had been one other than Harrison Developers, I might have wondered if this was an act of terrorism. The people around me wondered that also.
“Is this another 9-11?” someone behind me whispered.
“A holy jihad maybe. I knew an attack would happen on American soil again. I just knew it,” a female responded.
“Why would someone hate America so much?” still someone else whispered.
If I had to bet, this wasn’t your traditional terrorism. If anything, it was eco-terrorism.
Again, Sierra’s face flashed through my mind. I desperately hoped my friend had nothing to do with this, that people had witnessed her this evening at some march for animal rights. I’d even take one of her why-people-are-stupid stories over this.
Chills raced up my spine but not from the cold. I still had that feeling of being watched. I turned and scanned the crowd but saw no one who looked particularly villainous. Mostly the crowd consisted of college kids who’d probably been out clubbing, a few businessmen, a man walking his bulldog, a teenage girl standing with a camera around her neck.
Could the person who’d done this be standing in the crowd right now? Were they watching their destruction unfold? We’d read case studies about this in one of my forensic classes at college. The smartest criminals were those who blended in, which could mean anyone in this crowd could be guilty. I swung my gaze back to the devastation in front of me.
Parker spotted me and scowled. He purposefully strode my way. “What are you doing here, Gabby?”
“I had to see for myself.” I rubbed my nose, which felt like an ice cube. “It’s horrible, Parker. Heartbreaking that someone could be this twisted, and it’s a near miracle that no one was killed. Sierra could never do something like this.”
He scowled again and looked both ways. Finally, he pulled me over the police line where no one could hear our conversation. “If you know anything…”
“I don’t. I swear.” I dropped any pretenses and spoke from my heart. “All I know is that Sierra would never do this. She’s too smart and her heart is too big.”
“That’s not what the evidence is telling us. You’re a scientist. Think about it, Nancy Drew.” Nancy Drew dripped with sarcasm.
I bit my lip. I didn’t want to think about what the evidence was saying. Nor did I want Parker calling me by my old nickname. He’d lost that right when we broke up. This wasn’t the time for that discussion, though. I looked back at the building. “Is everyone okay? Was anyone inside?”
“No, thankfully everyone was gone for the day, except for a janitor but he wasn’t hurt. He was working in the other side of the building and managed to get out in time.” Parker rubbed his chin. “Do you have any idea where Sierra is?”
I shook my head. We’d been over this before, hadn’t we? “None. Why do you look like you don’t believe me?”
“Because I know how loyal you are.”
“Being loyal is a good thing.”
“Not if it impedes an investigation.”
“I’m not impeding an investigation. And while I’m thinking of it, you really don’t have to have one of your men following me.”
His gaze flickered. “I don’t.”
“Then what was up with the headlights on my way here?”
He shrugged. “You tell me. Have you gotten yourself in another pickle?”
I feigned shock. “I would never. And there was a car following me. I still think you put one of your men on me.”
“You should go home, Gabby.” His voice sounded weary and maybe a touch concerned.
“I’m fine.” I rubbed my arms again, thinking about how bitterly cold the weather felt.
“No, I mean you should go home in case Sierra comes back.”
I scowled. Of course. I should go home because that fit his plan, not because he was concerned about me. The exact reason we’d broken up. Maybe I would go home, but it wouldn’t be because Parker had told me to. He placed his hand on my elbow and led me back to the other side of the police line.
“There’s nothing to see here,” Parker growled.
Did he say that to me or to the crowd or both?
I took one last glance at the building, one that had once stood like an urban masterpiece on this busy corner. All it had taken was one little device called a bomb to cause the whole structure to crumble.
I decided to get out of the cold and go home. I’d return to my original plan of snuggling under my blanket and doing happy feet air dances. Staring at these ruins would do me no good.
Back in my car, I noticed those headlights behind me again. If it wasn’t one of Parker’s comrades, then who was driving that car? And should I even go home and show whoever it was where I lived? Or maybe I was beginning to lose it, imagining all of this.
I swerved to the left, taking a side street. I held my breath, watching the car behind me. The sedan continued straight.
I slowed down, shaking my head and chuckling. Maybe I was losing it.
I circled the block until I pulled up to the old Victorian that had been cut up into five little apartments. Home sweet home.
When I stepped inside, I couldn’t help but think about Sierra. The battle raged inside me. Was she guilty or not? And why wasn’t she home yet? It was, I checked my watch, past midnight. The girl should be home by now. She was not a night owl, by any stretch of the imagination. Without sleep, she turned into Mrs. Cranky Pants.
I stared at Sierra’s door to my left. I had a key to her place, and I’d never used it before. How would she feel about me going into her apartment? In this situation, I think she’d be just fine with it.
I fingered her key on my oversized ring. I was going to do it. I just needed to check inside her place to make sure everything was o
kay, to make sure there were no signs that something terrible had happened to her. I was doing this to look out for her best interests, not to snoop. If something was wrong, Sierra would thank me for this.
I slipped her key into the lock. The door clicked open. I pushed past the beads that my friend had strung from her door frame. Immediately, the scent of incense hit me. And she’d left her whale music playing in the background.
Strange, very strange.
I closed the door behind me and scanned the room. Everything appeared to be in place. There were no signs of struggle, though the music and earthy-smelling sage incense made me think she’d left in a hurry. Why would she leave in a hurry?
Because she wanted to escape the authorities before they caught her maybe?
What kind of friend was I, questioning Sierra’s innocence? Friends didn’t question friends like this.
I’d just take a quick peruse through her place to make sure everything was okay, then I’d leave and mind my own business.
Like I ever minded my own business.
I quickly checked her bedroom, where everything was in place. I ignored the images of injured animals that plastered her walls. Apparently, those pictures compelled her to fight even harder for animal’s rights. Maybe it was the same reasoning that caused Christians to hang crosses on their walls, a reminder of Christ’s suffering and our need for a life change.
Her bathroom looked as clean as ever. I even checked her closets. All clear.
There was no sign that a killer lived here.
I’d leave and go back to my evening.
As I breezed through the living room, a paper sticking out from under the couch caught my eye. I backed up and tugged it from under the cushions. It was probably nothing.
I caught my breath when I read the title of the paper packet.
“Building Bombs and How to Use Them. Published by the National Federation for a Cleaner Earth.”
Holy schnikies. What had my friend gotten herself into?
Chapter Four
I shoved the papers under my arm and decided my best option was to simply escape Sierra’s apartment, go upstairs to my couch and sit dumbfounded there for a bit until reality sunk its sharp teeth into my hard head.
Organized Grime Page 2