Christy Barritt - Squeaky Clean 04 - Dirty Deeds (7 page)

“By yourself?”

He chuckled again. “Yes, by myself.”

“Sounds relaxing, but don’t you miss your family?” I tugged at my collar as I realized I was pushing a little too hard. But in the distance, I could see Deanna nodding at me from behind the alcove. She was counting on me. And, though I didn’t know the woman, I didn’t want to let her down.

It was twisted logic. I knew that. But it was all I had at the moment.

He offered a sad smile before shaking his head. “I am what you call unattached. So, no, there is no one to miss me. Not really.”

I nodded. The grief and melancholy in his eyes made my guilt pound even harder. “I’m sorry to hear that. I know you’ll have a wonderful stay here, though.”

He nodded crisply and stared into the distance a moment. “I hope I will Miss St. Claire. If I meet more people like you, I am sure I will.”

I nearly blushed. Which wasn’t good, because I was engaged. Happily engaged at that. Just because this man had a rockin’ accent and a tragic past didn’t mean I was attracted to him.

It did, however, mean that he should apply to be on
The Bachelor
or one of those other reality dating shows. Those bachelorettes would swoon all over him. It would be ratings gold.

I cleared my throat. “I should go.”

He nodded slightly, almost like a mini-bow. “Take care.”

I released a deep breath as I walked away. Okay, I had Deanna’s answer. Now I hoped that Deanna would help find one for me as well.

CHAPTER 7

Riley disappeared to his conference, and I still had four hours to kill before I met Deanna and her friend from security. I’d been surprised at his lack of questioning to what I’d been up to, but maybe that just went to show how much he trusted me now. Our relationship had come a long way.

Riley had told me on the way here that I should go down to the spa and utilize some of the services there. Or maybe get some sun or play in the pool. You know, things that normal people did on vacation.

But I was still thinking about Jackie-O and Clint.

I was thinking about Riley’s friends and how different they seemed than him. I wasn’t sure what I’d expected. But not the group of people I’d met here.

Riley’s friends, in the brief amount of time I’d been around them, seemed so into themselves and money and titles. Riley had given up what most people considered “the good life” in order to help people. I’d imagined him hanging out with other do-gooders, not people who seemed so … I’d never used this word before—and a part of me inwardly rebelled against it—but “worldly.”

I glanced around at the people passing by. Some were well dressed. Some were eccentric. I wasn’t sure what it was that screamed “rich” when I looked at them. Maybe it was just the way they carried themselves. I couldn’t pinpoint the exact differences.

Just for the record, I really didn’t have anything against rich people. If someone who was a part of the “One Percent” wanted to come to my house for dinner, then they were more than welcome.

Maybe there was just a part of me who was more Robin Hood than James Bond. I liked helping commoners who had little resources at their disposal. The rich had so many advantages just because they had money.

Or maybe I was uncomfortable around wealth because of Carina Armstrong. Carina had gone to high school with me and never missed an opportunity to remind me that she thought she was better than I was. Truth be told, I didn’t really care. I was happy with myself, so that was all that mattered. That’s not to say that I wasn’t at fault for that science experiment that went wrong, resulting in Carina’s hands being stained green for two weeks.

I paused in the lobby, near the concierge. I took a step toward her, ready to ask about something asinine like how to sign up for a falconry course. Before I could, a deep voice sounded behind me.

“You’ve really done a number on Riley, haven’t you?”

I turned and spotted Derek “Playboy” Waters. He stood behind me with a twinkle in his overly confident eyes. He stood close—too close—with his hands stuffed casually into his pockets.

I raised my eyebrows and tilted my head, certain I hadn’t heard correctly. “What was that?”

He shrugged, that same satisfied smirk on his face. “Riley. He’s … he’s different. He’s changed since I saw him last.”

I shrugged, really not sure what to say, which was unusual for me. “People do change.” I certainly had. In fact, I’d changed mostly since I’d met Riley, and it was all for the best. He’d shown me how empty my life was before. Not before him, but before I understood how desperately I needed Jesus.

There was a time when I’d never thought I’d say those words. Now I couldn’t imagine not saying them.

“All right.” Derek looked me up and down like I’d just offended him. “I’m just saying I never thought I’d see the day when Riley Thomas would turn down a party.”

I nearly choked. Thankfully I didn’t have anything in my mouth or it would have been ugly. I tapped my chest just to make sure I hadn’t gone into shock. “We must be talking about the wrong person.”

Derek grinned, his eyes lighting with amusement. “He didn’t tell you?”

“Tell me what?”

He nodded in that very urban, uppity manner that seemed to fit him so well. “You’ll have to ask him about it.”

My brain whirled faster than a computer at NASA. “I will. Believe me.”

Just then, Ajay rounded the corner. “Miss St. Claire!”

I caught a quick glimpse of Derek. Why were his eyes dancing in amusement? It almost seemed like he was making assumptions that he shouldn’t be making. The little turd.

Ajay held out something in his hands. “You left this.” He handed me some lip balm I’d left at his table.

I blushed as I took it from him, which was ridiculous. There was just something so chivalrous about the man, something that time seemed to leave behind as a relic of the past. Even Riley, who was extremely considerate, didn’t seem quite as charming when he treated me like a lady. “Thanks. Sorry about that.”

“No, really, it was my pleasure.” He offered a slight bow before continuing on his way.

When I looked up, Derek’s eyebrows were suspended and a sly grin stretched across his lips. “Interesting.”

My hands went to my hips. “What’s interesting?”

“This can be our secret, Gabby.”

My eyes widened, and I shook my head. “It’s not like that.” I was going to have to pull out some crime scene stories here soon, just to horrify him enough to change the subject. It worked every time.

He nodded, appearing unconvinced and as smug as ever. “It’s okay. I get it. Now I know where you were sneaking off in the middle of the night.” He flashed another grin.

I forgot about my crime scene story strategy. “You saw me last night?” My mouth gaped wider.

“I’m a bit of an insomniac. But it’s like I said. You don’t have to worry.” He straightened the starchy white collar of his shirt. “I make a living keeping secrets.”

I stepped close enough that I could hiss and still be heard. “I’m not worried about you keeping any secrets, because you have no idea what you’re talking about. You’re full of hot air.”

“Feisty.” His raised eyebrows clearly showed that he didn’t believe me. “I look forward to getting to know you this week, Gabby.” He snapped his arm up and glanced at his watch. “Now, I’ve gotta say that I’m late for my workshop. Don’t tell my boss. Oh right, that’s me!”

I let out a fake laugh, one that quickly ended as soon as Derek walked away.

Our conversation wouldn’t leave my thoughts quite as easily. Riley? A partier? Those words didn’t compute together in my brain.

Riley was the good boy who always went to church every Sunday. Who read his Bible every morning. Who turned to prayer right away when things got tough—and even when they didn’t.

Riley was not a partier. Certainly he would have mentioned that at some point during one of our conversations.

But now that I thought about it, we didn’t really talk much about his past. I knew he’d grown up in a Christian home, so I just assumed he’d always stayed on the straight and narrow. He just seemed like the type to never wander off that path.

Oh yes, Riley and I were going to have to have a talk. There were more layers to that man than I’d guessed. In all of my investigations, there was one person whose background I’d never thought about looking into.

Thankfully, I had a lifetime to investigate this case.

CHAPTER 8

“Are you here for the tour, ma’am?”

I swung my head toward the concierge, a woman who was probably in her early thirties and wore her dark hair pulled back into a tight bun, a look that didn’t in any way compliment the unflattering, standard-issue suit. She stood behind a desk with a granite-countertop that came to her chest and had numerous brochures neatly organized on top.

“The tour?”

She nodded. “Of Allendale. One of our historians will walk you through the property and explain the historical significance of each section of the building. Most find it enlightening.”

The tour sounded downright boring to me. But maybe it would give me some insight to the place and wouldn’t look as weird as me wandering around aimlessly. “I’d love to go.”

A group of seven other people joined us at the desk. Then a man with a monocle and a tweed suit called for our attention. A monocle? I had no idea people used those anymore. All he needed was a pipe and he’d fit my every stereotype of the type of person who frequented places like this.

“I’m Jefferson Willis.” He tugged at his jacket lapel and addressed everyone pensively. “My family has worked at Allendale for three generations. It’s my pleasure to guide you through our wonderful facilities.”

We began our tour at a brisk pace. The guide rambled about how more than one-hundred years ago a man named James Allen, who’d at one time owned a coal mine, had forever changed the fate of Healthy Springs when he opened a resort here that soon became a playground for the rich.

The resort fell into some hard times around the Great Depression, and the family lost ownership. Twenty years ago, it was sold to some big corporation who still owned it to this day. The Allens, however, like many other families, still worked here at the resort.

The natural springs were said to have healing properties that lured the “who’s who” of the world here. Presidents had campaigned from the porch. Generals had taken breaks from battles in the springs. The rich had bought rooms so they could stay year-round. Blah, blah, blah.

We passed ballrooms, one of the original horse and buggies that had carried dignitaries, and shrines with pictures of the place when it had first begun.

My mind was not on anything the historian was saying, though.

No, my thoughts were on Jackie-O.

For her to have been kidnapped here, only hours after arriving, someone would have to plan very carefully. The kidnapper would have had to know about this trip, when Jackie was arriving, that she’d go hiking, and that she’d go hiking alone.

They’d had to know that no one was in her room when they ventured inside to leave the ransom note.

They’d had to know that she was loaded and that one day’s time was adequate for getting a large amount of cash like the ransom had demanded.

There were a lot of variables in that scenario that could have easily gone wrong
, I mused as we started upstairs, passing some of the guest suites.

What had Riley said? That Jackie was an Assistant District Attorney. She was the one who put the bad guys behind bars. Had someone she’d put behind bars been stalking her, waiting for just the right minute to exact their revenge? Perhaps her abductor was someone who wanted to teach the family a lesson?

I shook my head. Something just didn’t seem quite right about the situation to me.

What if one of Riley’s old law school buddies was somehow involved in this whole fiasco? Lane had been engaged to her. What if he didn’t like seeing her with someone new? Derek was a self-proclaimed playboy. Those malpractice attorneys seemed like they could twist and turn anything to get what they wanted. Would he have gone as far as to kidnap an old classmate?

None of my theories made sense. Not yet. First, I needed more information.

I heard the door open not far away and someone say, “I’m just going to go on a walk and stretch my legs some.”

I glanced back, and Clint appeared in my view.

Clint.

He was leaving his hotel room and walking in the opposite direction.

I made a split-second decision and slipped away from the tour group to run after him. “Clint!”

He slowed and turned to face me. Grief lined his eyes, as well as uncertainty.

I sucked in a deep breath, trying to regain my composure. “I’m not sure if you remember me. Gabby St. Claire.”

He nodded, glancing behind me before meeting my gaze again. “Yeah, I remember.”

I pulled a hair behind my ear, trying to collect my thoughts. “How are you?” I fell in step beside him as he started down the hallway at a lazy pace.

He shrugged. “As well as you can imagine.”

“Anything new on Jackie?”

He shook his head. “We’re just counting down the time.”

“In case I haven’t said this, I’m really sorry.”

He nodded and stuffed his hands deeper into his pockets. “Thanks.”

“Look, I know this sounds weird, but can I ask you a few questions?”

He stopped and stared at me. “About?”

“About Jackie.” I locked gazes with him, hoping he could see the sincerity in my eyes. He stared at me as if trying to determine if I was trustworthy or not. When I thought he was going to refuse, I offered, “I was a professional investigator for a while. I may be able to help.”

Finally, he nodded. “I guess.”

We started walking again, though I had no idea where we were going. We were ambling aimlessly, I supposed, but that was okay with me. “Who knew she was coming here this week?”

“Everyone in her office back in Atlanta, I suppose.”