Hazardous Duty (8 page)

“There’s a good chance they won’t be
able to hold him.” Riley sat down on the other side of Mildred. “As long as
he’s being cooperative and they don’t find evidence of anything stolen from the
property in your possession, they’ve got nothing. They’re probably just
covering all the bases.”

Or trying to pin this on someone. I’d
already seen firsthand that Detective “Pitt” was capable of that.

“I hope so. I need him at home to help
me take care of Keisha and Donovan. I’m too old to raise those grandkids alone.
I’m just too old for all of this.”

Mildred suddenly sat up straighter. “The
grandkids. How could I have forgotten? They’re supposed to be home from school
any minute.”

“We can go meet them.” I met Riley’s
gaze. He nodded slightly, letting me know it was okay.

“Are you sure?” Mildred asked.

“Positive.” I rose. “We’ll take good
care of them. I promise.”

With one more hug, we started to the
car.

“I feel horrible leaving her alone at a
time like this,” I whispered.

Riley pushed the door open, and it felt
like opening an oven. Waves of heat washed over us. “I would have offered to
pick them up myself, but I didn’t think that would go over well.”

“I just hope they release Harold soon
and realize this was all one big mistake.”

Riley opened the car door, and I slid
inside. My gaze roamed the interior. A straw wrapper stuck up between the seat
and console. Dried grass wove its way into the floor mats. It seemed like
Riley: simple, down-to-earth, attractive.

“You okay?” Riley asked, waiting in the
driver’s seat.

“I just can’t believe this. It seems
like a bad dream.”

Riley waited for a minute and then
cranked the engine. It gently hummed as we pulled away from the station,
leaving Harold in the hands of one of the most ignorant people I’d ever
encountered—Detective Parker. I’d call Sierra later and see if she wanted to
interview him for her “Stupid People” book.

“Were you pretty close with Harold?”
Riley asked.

“He used to be a janitor, but he retired
and wanted to do something to make a few bucks. I hired him after our first
interview. He just seemed like such a gentle and kind man.”

“Things will work out, Gabby. Even
though it might not look like it now, they will.”

“Thanks for the reassurance.” I leaned
the crown of my head against the cool window. “How do you know so much about
police procedures? You sounded like an old pro in there.”

“Just things I picked up here and
there.”

I didn’t ask any more questions, though
my gut told me more details existed to the story.

I directed Riley into an older, rundown
subdivision. A few turns later, he pulled the car up to a small,
well-maintained brick house, with bright blue shutters and colorful mums
dotting the flowerbed.

It reminded me of my house growing up.
Dad sold it when mom died, and he moved into a trailer. He said he couldn’t
maintain the property. I believed him—he couldn’t even maintain his shaving
routine. Of course, he’d always gone for that beach bum look. I always told him
the look was a total wipe out and it didn’t send good vibrations.

Riley and I climbed out of his car and
sat on the porch to wait for the bus.

“So, I’ve been wondering—what made you
decide to be a crime-scene cleaner?” Riley asked, his elbows resting atop his
knees. Those eyes turned all their attention on me. He really should be an eye
model, if such a thing existed.

I turned and leaned against the post
beside me. The thick heat covered me like a sweater. Should I tell him or not?
The last thing I wanted was anyone feeling sorry for me. But those eyes
beckoned my trust.

“You want the long version or the short
one?” I finally said.

“Whichever one you’re willing to give
me.”

I drew in a deep breath. “I went to
college to be a forensics specialist, but my last semester I had to quit. My
mother passed away and my father couldn’t support himself. There was just too
much going on to go back to college. It seemed like every time I planned on it,
something else happened. I had to come up with a plan . . . so
here I am. A college dropout, but a proud business owner.”

“What did your dad say? He didn’t care
you dropped out of college?”

I snorted. “All my dad’s ever cared
about is himself, believe me. I didn’t grow up in a Leave it to Beaver
household. It was closer to the Osbournes.”

“Sounds tough.”

“Yeah, it was. But I needed to make some
money, and I wanted to do something that would keep me close to my career
goals. I remembered hearing about crime-scene cleaners and decided to see if
there were any in the area I could work for. There weren’t.”

“So you went into business for
yourself?”

“I sure did. It’s not an easy job, but
it just makes me feel like I didn’t give up everything, you know? Of course,
half of my equipment is now ashes and my only employee might go to jail.” I
sighed at the irony of it all. Maybe dad was right and life was a beach.

“It will all work out, Gabby.”

“I know it will. But it’s still hard,
you know?”

His gaze warmed me. “I do know.”

I felt him studying my face. Only I
didn’t feel uncomfortable. There was something different about Riley. He seemed
to truly care about the situation. How weird was that? He barely knew me, yet
he’d gone out of his way to help. Maybe he was too good to be true. Better yet,
maybe he really
was
an alien.

“Have you ever thought about taking any
classes locally to finish your degree?”

If only he realized there wasn’t a
simple answer to that question. “I’ve thought about it. They say once you quit
college, it’s hard to ever go back. I can barely make ends meet as it is. And I
basically have to be on call any time of the day or night. If I’m not, I might
lose a job and I can’t afford that.”

The roar of the bus coming down the road
jarred us from the serious conversation. The gears ground until the yellow
vehicle stopped and a set of elementary-aged twins ran to the front porch. They
slowed down when they spotted me and Riley.

“Hey, guys! How are you?” I stood and
plastered on my best smile.

“Hi, Aunt Gabby. Where’s Nana?” Keisha
asked. The girl faltered. Her wide, perceptive eyes soaked in Riley and then
turned to me. The emotions I saw there nearly broke my heart. Since my own
childhood had been so screwed up, nothing pained me more than to see a child
lose the innocence of youth.

I saw it on my job often enough—when
someone’s dad or brother or uncle died. The image of young tear-brimmed eyes
and trembling chins always got to me. As much as I tried to forget about it, I
knew it was because I’d been that child not so long ago. I’d been the one
wondering why my brother was gone and when he’d come back.

I softened my voice. “Nana had something
come up at the last minute. She asked if my friend, Riley, and I would meet
you. Is that okay?”

Keisha nodded.

“You mean, we don’t have to work on our
homework now?” Donovan’s brown eyes lit up and his book bag slid from his
shoulder.

“Nope, we’re making an exception today.”
I touched the little guy’s head, as he pulled his arm back and muttered, “yes.”

The next hour we played
Ring-Around-the-Rosy, London Bridge Is Falling Down, and gave the two
kindergartners twirls around the yard. The wrinkles of worry finally
disappeared from Keisha’s forehead, and both of the children giggled with each
new game.

After a couple of hours, I took a break
and perched on the steps. My heart thudded with sadness as I realized what
these children might face in the coming months. I closed my eyes and tried to
erase the mental picture.

Someone plopped down beside me. I opened
my eyes and spotted Riley leaning back on his palms, sweat trickling down his
face. My gaze traveled to Keisha and Donovan as they chased each other around
the yard, the sound of the laughter filling the air in a beautiful music.

“Praying?” Riley asked, his gaze
catching mine.

A laugh caught in my throat. “No, I
don’t waste my time with that anymore.”

“I’m sorry you think it’s a waste of
time.”

“You don’t?”

“I know it’s not.”

I wondered why he was so sure. He seemed
smart, not like the type to fall for the hocus pocus of religion. I couldn’t
see Riley passing around a snake or giving all his money to some kook who
promised to heal the sick on national TV. Before I could ask any questions, a
familiar beat up Oldsmobile pulled into the driveway. I held my breath. Keisha
and Donovan paused as if sensing something was wrong. When I spotted two heads
in the car, my shoulders relaxed.

They’d allowed Harold to come home.

Keisha and Donovan ran to the car and
jumped into their grandparents’ arms while Riley and I stood at a distance. I
wanted to throw my arms around Harold, too, but didn’t want the kids to get
suspicious with the unusual display of affection.

Harold’s eyes met mine as he approached
on the cracked sidewalk. They were full of emotions that Harold usually
concealed so well. My throat burned.

I patted his arm and whispered, “Good to
see you.”

“Let’s sit on the porch, Gabby.
Mildred’s going to go inside with the kids so we can chat.”

His tortured gaze shifted behind me, and
I realized I hadn’t introduced Riley yet. “Oh, Harold this is my neighbor
Riley. Riley, Harold.”

The two men shook hands. After the front
door slammed, quiet fell over the outside. Harold plopped into a wooden rocker,
and I took the other one. Riley leaned against a post.

“What did they say?” I swallowed,
bracing myself for whatever the news.

“I guess they didn’t have enough to hold
me, but I’m not off the hook yet. They’re searching for anything they can find
to frame me for this.” His wide, watery eyes met mine. “I don’t want to go back
to jail, Gabby.” He reached for his temples and lowered his head in despair. “I
don’t want to go back to jail.”

Chapter Nine

I cleared my throat, trying to
hold myself together. I grabbed Harold’s sweaty, thick hand. “Harold, why
didn’t you tell me that you had a criminal record?”

He raised his head, but that same pained
expression still remained. “I didn’t think it was important. I was with the
wrong people at the wrong time. I figured it would only work against me to tell
you, especially since I didn’t do anything, except have a lapse in judgment.”

Riley crossed his arms, his forehead
wrinkled. “What did the police say?”

Harold’s shoulders stooped. “They said
for me not to leave the city, that they may need to talk to me again.”

“They say anything about motive? About
why they would think you’d do something like this?” Riley continued.

Riley’s stance was casual, but his voice
said otherwise. He seemed interested in Harold’s fate, for some reason unknown
to me.

“They claim maybe I stole things from
the house and burned it to conceal the evidence.” He shook his head. “You know
I don’t want a lot in life, just a happy family and some place to keep warm. I
didn’t steal nothing, Gabby.”

“They’re not going to be able to frame
you, Harold. You have witnesses who saw you at Donovan’s T-ball game. That will
prove you’re innocent—” I paused as Harold swung his head back and forth. “Why
are you doing that?”

His fingers laced and unlaced in front
of him. This was a man that I didn’t believe could get rattled less than five
hours ago. Now, he was close to crumbling.

“I got caught in traffic. Then I decided
to stop by the house and shower. You know how the smell of blood just saturates
you—”

I touched his arm. “I know.”

“I’m the perfect suspect.” Harold
lowered his head into his hands again.

“I believe you, Harold.”

“Now you just have to make sure the
police believe you.” Riley uncrossed his arms and stepped closer. “Did they say
anything about a search warrant?”

“They’re trying to get one right now.”

“Do you have a lawyer?”

“Not yet.”

Riley began pacing. “You need to get a
lawyer. You should have had one in the first place. They did tell you that,
didn’t they?”

He shrugged. “I was so overwhelmed, I
don’t remember what they told me. I just knew I wanted to get home. I wanted to
wake up from this nightmare.”

As if on cue, a police car pulled to a
stop in front of the house, followed by a black sedan.

Detective Parker, I realized. My stomach
rolled with nausea.

The Brad Pitt look-alike stepped out of
the car, sunglasses on and hair gelled in place

“I guess that search warrant came
through pretty quickly,” I mumbled, standing. I stepped between Harold and
Parker as the officers approached.

Parker’s smirking gaze fell on me, and I
wished I’d never mentally complimented him with the Brad Pitt comparison.
“Well, if it isn’t Nancy Drew. Why am I not surprised to see you here?”

“Tell me, is it that you’re stubborn or
ignorant that prevents you from admitting the truth?”

His eyebrows shot up and, though I
couldn’t see his eyes, I would bet he was scowling beneath those dark glasses.

“I’ve told you to leave the
investigation to professionals.” His words were as clipped and tight as his
expression.

“You guys are as professional as Bozo on
his first day at the circus. Do you need me to remind you of what a lousy job
you’ve done so far?”

Harold laid a hand on my arm, but my
heart still raced with adrenaline. “It’s okay, Gabby. Let them go on and search
the house. They won’t find anything.”

Parker slipped his movie star glasses up
and gave me a smoldering glance before following the officers into the house.