03 - Organized Grime (9 page)

Lydia circled her French manicured finger in the air and looked at me blankly…or was she just acting? “Rewind some. The answers to what?”

“Who bombed your husband’s office building and set fire to his housing development.”

Her composure broke, but only for a moment. Immediately, she snapped back to her intensely controlled demeanor. She obviously wanted to call the shots in this conversation. Most likely, she wanted to call the shots all the time. She just seemed like that kind of person. “Why would I know that information? I have nothing to do with my husband’s company. It doesn’t concern me.”

I leaned toward her. “Your divorce is about to be finalized. Do you stand to gain anything from these incidents?”

“I beg your pardon? What are you accusing me of exactly, Ms. St. Claire?” Lydia’s thin eyebrow popped up, arching with more skill than a gymnast at the Olympics.

Riley put his hand on my arm, effectively stopping me from answering. That was probably a good thing. “Gabby isn’t accusing you of anything, Lydia. She’s just concerned about her friend. Her friend indicated that you had some answers.”

“I don’t know what exactly these elusive answers are. I have no idea why someone would blow up my husband’s business.” She paused and tapped her finger a second. “Well, that’s not exactly true. He does have a lot of enemies.”

“Like who?”

“Well, there was the environmental group who claimed he was wasting our nation’s natural resources by building on the property where the fire occurred.”

Check, I knew that. I’d add them to my list of people to question, though.

“And there’s that community group who already thinks we have enough traffic in the area where he wanted to build. A bunch of conspiracy theorists if you ask me.”

“Okay.” I could check them out, I supposed.

“Oh, and don’t forget that Native American group.”

“Native American group?”

“Right. They found some bones when they began to prep the area for the housing development. Turns out it was the ancient burial ground for a local tribe. James went through all the hoops to get the remains moved. There were some natives who were not happy about all of that, though.”

“Interesting.”

She smirked. “I’d say.”

“Can I talk to your ex?”

“You’d have to ask him.”

“Where can I find him?”

She shrugged. “I couldn’t tell you. I haven’t spoken with him in weeks.”

I bit my lip and leaned back in my chair.

I had to find Sierra. But how would I do that when every road led to a dead end?

***

“What next, detective?” Riley asked as we walked back to his car. The snow had never really started. The sky just seemed to randomly release cold spittle at will. Every once in a while, a piece of chilly ooze would find my cheeks. Otherwise, a brisk wind slapped any exposed skin it could find—mostly my toes, which, unfortunately, were unhindered in my flip flops. Flip flops in the winter? Don’t worry. These were my wool-lined ones, designed especially for crazy people like me who wanted to wear the shoes year-round.

“So many choices, I hardly know where to start. I want to know more about this Native American group. Can I use your smartphone?” I climbed into his car, embracing the shelter from the wind and elements.

He slid into the driver’s seat and cranked the engine. Heat poured out from the vents as he handed me his phone. “Here you go.”

“Perfect.” I waited for the Internet to load. “I’m so glad you make enough money to have a phone with 4G.”

He pulled out of the parking space, the light from the gray sky outside outlining his profile. Just seeing him and having him beside me brought such a measure of peace. “I remember when 4G was my seat at a baseball game.” He ran a hand through his hair and stole a glance at me. His eyes twinkled. “I think I’m getting old.”

I shrugged, knowing better than to pass up an opportunity. “You do still have a landline phone, so the odds are stacked against you in the age department right now.”

He cut his gaze toward me. “What’s wrong with a landline phone?”

“Nothing’s wrong with it, other than the fact that only people over thirty have them.” I didn’t really have room to talk since Riley was only three years older than me. But I did it anyway.

He scowled and pointed to his phone. “Did you find anything?”

“There’s one mention of the group here in a newspaper article. The tribe is the Mishcosk.  There’s one person who acts as the group’s spokesperson. He’s quoted here in the article. Let me see if I can find his contact information.”

I did a quick search and, what do you know, he was listed online. I made a quick call and he agreed to meet us at the housing development in thirty minutes. Easy enough. Too easy?

“We’re not any closer to having answers, are we?”  Riley gripped the steering wheel so hard that his knuckles were white.

“I don’t even know if we’re looking in the right direction. I just know I have to keep looking.”

We pulled up to the housing development and stepped out of Riley’s car. I squinted against the deceitfully bright sun, a sun that made it seem warmer than it really was. The wind bit through my clothing as its breezes swept across the river beside us.

The land really was lovely, located on the banks of the Elizabeth River with tall marsh grasses jutting upward. The construction crew had started to build three houses on prime spots along the river. Now, only one of the houses stood. The other two were ashes.

A lone truck, one in desperate need of a paint job with its dull gray finish, sat at the end of the lane. A tall, broad man leaned against the back, his arms folded over his chest, and his eyes watching us. He didn’t move as we approached, he only stared. His long dark hair was swept back into a neat ponytail, and his honey-colored skin gave him an exotic look.

“That must be Broken Arrow,” I whispered.

“Broken Arrow?”

I shrugged. “That’s his Native American Name. His real name is Wayne Wood.”

“Broken Arrow is way cooler.”

I held out my hand as I approached. “I’m Gabby St. Claire and this is…” I glanced at Riley. How should I introduce him? My friend? My neighbor? My… “… my male secretary, Riley Thomas.”

Riley’s eyes widened until he shook his head, a hint of a smile playing at the corner of his lips. Just as quickly, he pulled his lips back down in a respectable non-expression.

I turned back to Broken Arrow. “Thanks for meeting with us.”

Broken Arrow didn’t smile or take my hand. He only glared at me, as if I’d done something wrong. I’d done lots of things wrong, but none so specific that he would know about them.

“You have some questions about the burial ground?”

I jammed my hands into my pockets, trying to keep them warm and to erase the awkwardness from the unreturned handshake. “We wondered if it had something to do with the fire here.”

“I’ll tell you like I told the police. We’re a peaceful people. We wouldn’t do this. Why is it your concern?” He spoke slowly, as if he chose each word with precision.

“My friend is being implicated for the crime. I need to prove her innocence.”

He showed his first sign of emotion. He blinked. “Sierra? Your friend is Sierra?”

“You know her?”

He nodded once. “I met her once. She was trying to get a meeting with James Harrison at the same time I was trying to get a meeting with him. We chatted for a few minutes afterward. You don’t easily forget someone like Sierra.”

Not forgetting her was one thing, but … “How did you know she’s being implicated?”

“Her name and picture were on the news today.”

I gasped, but the rush of cold air into my lungs caused me to cough. “What? They can’t do that!”

“They said she’s a person of interest.”

“I can’t believe Parker would do this.” I jammed my fists into my hips.

“He has to do his job, Gabby,” Riley said. “Right now, his job is to find Sierra and get some answers.”

One thing was growing more and more certain by the moment—I had to find Sierra before anyone else did. Her future depended on it.

Chapter Ten

The car ride as we pulled away from the housing development was silent. I chewed on my thoughts, trying desperately to make sense of some of them as the landscape and traffic blended together outside my window. It was no use. Logic eluded me.

Sierra was on the news. Really? Parker had to know she didn’t do this, even if she did look as guilty as sin.

I stared out the window, trying to keep my spirits up, to hang onto that fighting spirit I was known for. As I stared into the side view mirror at the traffic behind us, I straightened.

“Riley, you see that car behind us?”

He glanced in the rearview mirror. “I see a lot of cars behind us.”

“The maroon, economy type car.” I craned my neck around. “Three cars back.”

His eyes flickered up. “Okay, yeah, I see it.”

“It’s following us.”

Riley quirked an eyebrow at me. “Are you sure?”

I nodded, a little too adamantly. “Positive. And that’s the same car that was following me on the night Harrison Developments was bombed.”

Riley sighed. “Splendid.”

“Pull over right here. Get into the right lane.”

“Why?”

“I want to lose them from behind us. Then
I
want to follow
them
.” The hunter becomes the hunted. Okay, maybe I watched too many movies. But still, I had to find out who was following me.

Riley looked over at me, his eyes widened in shock. “Why would you want to do that?”

“Maybe they’re my connection to Sierra. Maybe whoever is driving that car knows where she is.”

Riley’s jaw twisted, and I could tell he wasn’t keen on my plan. But, to my surprise, he swerved into the right lane and braked. The maroon car didn’t have room to swing into the turn lane. It sped past. I craned my neck trying to get a look at the driver.

Tinted windows. Rats. I could only see an outline.

Riley jerked back into the left lane and began tailing the car. I loved this man. I did.

“I hope I don’t regret this,” he muttered

“If it helps us find Sierra, then what will there be to regret?”

The driver of the maroon car seemed to sense what we were doing. He accelerated toward a yellow light. I gripped the arm rest as I pondered what Riley would do. Run the red light? Slam on brakes?

The maroon car squealed through the intersection, causing oncoming cars to slam on their brakes. My eyes widened as the scene unfolded in front us. I waited to hear the crunch of metal. I waited to feel the impact of a crash.

Riley pressed on the brakes until we came to a screeching halt. My racing heart pounded in my ears as the car froze.

“Sorry, Gabby. I couldn’t do it.”

“It’s okay.” I glanced over at him. “Something’s going on here, Riley. I have no idea what it is. I can’t talk to Mark Daniels until tomorrow when he gets to work. I hate feeling so helpless.”

“You’re doing everything you can, Gabby.”

“There has to be something I’m missing. I just don’t know what it is.”

My cell phone beeped. I didn’t recognize the number so I answered with, “Trauma Care.”

Someone else needed me to clean a crime scene as soon as possible. I supposed I had nothing better to do at the moment—at least, I couldn’t think of what it was. I wanted to track down clues and follow the evidence, but I’d come to a dead end. I might as well earn some money.

“Another job?” Riley asked.

I nodded. “Yeah, another one.”

“I’m going with you.”

“I’m going to have to put you on payroll if you keep coming with me.”

“When’s Chad getting back?”

“He called this morning and said he’d decided to stay all week. I told him I could hold the fort down while he was gone.”

“But can you?”

I shrugged. “I just know that forcing Chad to come back here and work instead of skiing is a fast way to get him to quit. He’s a free spirit and isn’t great at the whole ‘being tied down’ thing.”

“Are you talking about working together or a romantic relationship?”

I glanced at Riley, surprised by his question. He rarely asked me about my dating life, yet he sounded so earnest right now.

“In some ways, both. But Chad and I would never make it dating. I’m convinced that we’d kill each other.”

“At least whoever acted first would know exactly how to clean up the evidence.”

I couldn’t help but laugh. Riley was beginning to pick up on my sense of humor. He’d been hanging around me too long, obviously.

“That’s awfully considerate of you to let Chad off the hook.”

I shrugged. Did Riley know the real reason? Ever since I’d told Chad I couldn’t date him, things had been awkward between us. Working the jobs by myself was just as well…other than the fact that there could be a serial killer out there with my face plastered to his practice target.

Chad really was a great guy, though. When he found the right girl, he was going to make someone really happy. And that would make me happy.

“Did you tell Chad about Sierra?”

I cut a sharp glance at Riley. “No, why?”

Riley shrugged. “Just wondering.”

“I figured that would only want to make him come home early. What good would that do?”

Riley pulled up to our apartment complex. “Right. What good would that do?” He patted my knee. “Let’s not waste any more time.”

***

Raymond Morris was known in the world of contractors as “the plaster guy.”  How ironic was it that I had to pick parts of a plaster-guy’s bones from the once-smooth plaster? Had he spread this plaster himself? How unfair that not only had a gun taken his life, but it also ruined his beautiful work all in one fatal shot.

As I carefully used my tweezers to get bone fragments from the wall, Riley stood behind me watching. We’d already washed down the walls and removed the carpet. The gore was mostly confined to this one small space.

I turned my head toward my friend. “This is really a one-person job, Riley. I’m sorry that your time is being wasted.”