Her eyes widened when she opened the door and saw me there. She didn’t say anything, just pulled me into a hug. People were doing that a lot lately. I must look terrible because people just gave me one glance and had no words.
Mary Lou had a plump, matronly figure, kind eyes, and an infinite love for her grandchildren. She was a killer baker and her demeanor always screamed of southern hospitality and goodness. Riley loved having her work for him.
She ushered me inside, and I sat on a floral patterned couch. Before I realized what she was doing, I had a sweaty glass of sweet iced tea in my hands and a slice of lemon pound cake in front of me.
I’d lost weight this week. I didn’t know how much. I didn’t bother to check. But I knew my jeans were looser than before. I didn’t have much of an appetite, but I did nibble on the cake. It was surprisingly tasty given that nothing sounded tasty.
“How are you holding up, Dear?” She sat across from me, her hands clasped in front of her. Rain beat against the wall of windows that usually presented a breathtaking view of the lake.
For a moment, the streams of raindrops flowing down the window made me think of God, made me wonder if He was crying with me.
I shrugged. “As well as to be expected, I suppose.”
“No changes in Riley?”
I shook my head. “Nothing. So we just wait.”
“And pray,” she added.
I nodded, though I didn’t feel confident, at the moment, that prayers would get me very far. I hated to feel so fragile in my faith this early on in my relationship with God. But I was wavering big time right now.
I set my tea onto the crocheted coaster on the table beside me. “I need to ask you some questions, Mary Lou.”
She tilted her head. “About?”
“About Riley.”
She smoothed the lacy doily on the arm of her chair. “I’ve already talked to the police, Gabby.”
“Maybe they missed something.”
“You’re too close to this. That’s what my husband would say.”
“Maybe because I’m so close to this I have the passion to find the answers. The police aren’t doing enough.”
“They’re working hard.” She set her tea down on the coffee table, probably so she could offer me her full, undiluted sympathy.
“Please, Mary Lou. I need to do something.” I didn’t want to beg. I really didn’t.
“What if doing something gets you killed?” Her voice sounded soft, questioning, and compassionate. “Riley wouldn’t want that.”
But I already knew my answer. “Being killed while trying to find justice for my fiancé? I could think of worse reasons to go.”
“Gabby . . .” She smoothed that doily again.
“Please, Mary Lou.” I would beg if I had to.
She considered me a moment—a long, tension filled moment—and then nodded. “What do you want to know?”
My shoulders relaxed. “Who was mad at Riley? Certainly he made someone mad recently. Had anyone threatened him? Anyone other than Jones?”
She folded her hands together in her lap. “A lot of people get upset. But they don’t mean it. Their threats are idle, said in the heat of the moment. You know how people can be.”
“I promise. I won’t jump to any conclusions. I just need a place to start.”
She fidgeted again and let out a slow breath. “Garrett Mercer.”
“Who’s Garrett Mercer?” His name didn’t even begin to ring any bells with me. I hated feeling clueless.
“Riley is working on behalf of a client to file a lawsuit against his company. Riley’s client believes that she was unfairly targeted and eventually fired because of her religious beliefs. When Mr. Mercer heard about the lawsuit, as well as the negative publicity he may receive in return, he stormed into the office and demanded to speak with Riley.”
Why hadn’t Riley told me any of this? I mean sure, there was attorney-client privilege and all of that. But still. An angry man storming into the office seemed like something Riley would mention, if nothing else during one of those lulls in our conversations.
Mary Lou scrunched her eyes and wrinkles fanned across her face. “I can see you’re hurt. Just know that Riley only wanted what was best for you. He knew you’d worry about him, and he figured you had enough on your mind.”
That sounded like Riley. Always trying to protect me. “When did this happen?”
“Mr. Mercer came into the office on the Friday before you and Riley left for Allendale Acres.”
Riley and I had an entire five-hour car ride to that resort when he could have mentioned the confrontation. So why hadn’t he? “And have you heard from this Garrett Mercer since then?”
Mary Lou shook her head. “No, not a peep. That’s why I didn’t think much about it.”
“Did you tell the police this information?”
“Of course.”
So the police had talked to the Mercer man. Who else had they talked to? What information did they walk away with?
Asking questions never hurt anything. Only I could think of a million exceptions to that reasoning. I could think of uncountable instances where asking questions had clued in the wrong people to what I was doing. Questions could drive people to fear, and fear could drive people to do things that they might later regret.
“Is there anything else you can think of?” I asked. “Anything at all?”
“Just be careful, Gabby. Whoever shot Riley did it without blinking an eye. If they did that once, they probably won’t hesitate to do it again.”
Her words were a chilling reminder about the person we were dealing with here.
That wasn’t going to stop me, though.
***
My mind raced as I pulled up to my apartment building that evening.
I usually loved coming home. I anticipated catching up with Riley. I looked forward to running into my best friend Sierra. In my own way, I looked forward to hearing my neighbor and radio talk show host Bill McCormick’s tangents on politics and his ex-wife. I anticipated when my upstairs neighbor Mrs. Mystery, as I called her, might emerge from her writing cave.
Today I had to drag myself upstairs. I hoped no one would stick his or her head out. I just wanted to be alone.
At once, I wondered what it would be like if Riley never came home. I had a flash of what it would be like to pack Riley’s stuff up. To plan his funeral.
I pictured what my life would be without Riley.
Tears tried to push their way out. Agony kept pressing closer, threatening to squeeze out any other emotions. I kept fighting, desperate to keep myself together.
If I fell apart, I feared I might never piece myself together again.
Disappointment bit at me. I was a Christian now. I was supposed to be stronger than this. Supposed to trust God that He worked through all things for our good.
Lord, I don’t even know what to pray, except please bring Riley out of this. Please let him be okay.
Since I’d stopped by the hospital once more after visiting Mary Lou, I knew Riley’s parents were still there. I didn’t have to worry about running into them as I trudged upstairs. They were staying in Riley’s apartment while they were in town. I didn’t feel like making small talk with them again.
I unlocked my apartment and stepped inside. I still shuddered every time I walked in here. Milton Jones, the notorious serial killer, had snuck into my place and not only threatened me but decorated my walls with blood. It made me sick to think about it.
There were other places I could stay. It only felt right to be here, though.
As soon as I’d pulled the chain across my door, someone knocked. “Gabby, it’s me. Sierra. Can I come in?”
My best friend. We’d had so little time to talk since she’d returned from her honeymoon. She’d come home early after a hurricane in the Gulf shut down their resort. Hurricane season was now officially in effect here on the East Coast.
Sierra had sat with me at the hospital several times
and we’d said almost nothing. Wasn’t that the hallmark of every great friendship, the ability to communicate without saying a thing?
I unlocked the door, and Sierra stepped inside. Sierra was a second-generation Japanese girl, petite with plastic framed glasses, and a pierced eyebrow. She worked as an animal rights activist and had more passion for animals than most people had for life itself. The Yale graduate was known for doing whatever it took to save the lives of innocent animals both near and afar. Despite her obsession, I felt like she was the sister I never had.
Her gaze assessed me as she stood in the doorway with her hands on her tiny, nonexistent hips.
I hated that she’d returned from her honeymoon to this.
But I hated that Riley was in the hospital even more.
She continued to stare at me. “How are you?”
I lowered myself onto my couch. “Been better.”
“I know. It was a stupid question.”
“It wasn’t. Not really.” I looked off into the distance, searching for the right thing to say. I came up empty. “It’s just that . . . you know.”
She nodded and sat beside me. “I’m sorry, Gabby. I can’t stop thinking about Riley. Any changes?”
I shook my head. “No. Nothing. It’s just more of the same.”
“Is there anything Chad and I can do?”
“If anything comes up, I’ll let you know. But right now all we can do is pray.” And try to track down the person who did this. I leaned forward, trying to clear my thoughts for a minute. “Tell me something to take my mind off of all this. What’s new here?”
“We had an interesting visitor here today at the apartment building.”
My curiosity piqued. “Who was that?”
“Mr. Sears’ granddaughter.”
Mr. Sears had been our landlord ever since we lived here. But he’d been found dead nearly two weeks ago. I hadn’t even given much thought as to what would happen with this building now that he was gone. I’d had too many other things distracting me, I supposed. “What did his granddaughter say?”
“She’s putting the building up for sale. She said she doesn’t want to be a landlord, she lives too far away, she’s not cut out to be a manager, etc.”
My spine straightened. “Really? What’s that mean for us?”
“Apparently, that all depends on who ends up purchasing the place. They could choose to keep it as an apartment building or they could make it into a private residence. That’s what I’ve always been afraid would happen. This home has a lot of character. Someone who wants to preserve historic buildings might be interested in snatching it up and making it into their dream home.”
My stomach sank farther. Despair threatened to bite deeper.
Riley was in a coma, and now my apartment building could be snatched away as well?
I knew people said the only thing constant in life was change. But why did the hard times keep raining down on me? Couldn’t life cut me any slack?
“When will we know?”
“I guess all the papers are being signed this week, so we’ll know something soon.”
I cleared my throat, ready for yet another subject change. “How are you and Chad? How’s married life?” It still seemed weird to say those words.
Her face brightened. “We’re good. I mean, driving each other a little crazy. I know people say we jumped into this whole marriage thing, but I think we did what was right for us. When you love someone, why waste time playing games?”
I smiled bittersweetly. “I’m happy for you. I really am. I never thought when I met Chad last year on that crime scene cleaning job that the two of you would end up married.”
“Me neither. Life has a funny way of working out sometimes.”
“If anyone deserves a happily ever after, it’s you.” Moisture filled my eyes.
Sierra scooted closer and put her arm around me. “You’re going to get your happily ever after, Gabby. I know it may not seem like it, but you will. Everyone’s praying for Riley. How could he not come out of this okay?”
I nodded, appreciating her faith in the situation, especially when I considered that she was an agnostic.
“I need to get my mind off of all this. Any chance you want to catch a movie?”
“Sure thing. Which one are you thinking about?”
“The Princess Bride.” Sierra gave me a questioning look, and I shrugged. A sappy romance with a wedding in it? I could see where it might not be the best idea. “It’s got it all. Love, hate, revenge, fighting for what you believe in.”
And I promise, I thought silently, not to take any tips on revenge from Inigo Montoya.
CHAPTER 6
The next morning, I stepped inside the headquarters of the Global Coffee Initiative, or GCI. I’d researched the company last night. Garrett Mercer owned the business, one that was known for being conservative with natural resources and liberal with values.
I’d read up on Garrett last night. He was quite the prodigy. He’d started his company at twenty-three-years-old and had grown it from a storage unit operation to a worldwide company that impacted people from all walks of life.
Today, he was thirty. From the pictures I’d seen online, I’d noted that he was a tall man with a shock of dark hair and broad shoulders. He had green eyes with a touch of mischief, loads of charisma, and enough passion to make people pause in curiosity.
I was hoping he could squeeze me into his schedule today.
GCI was located in an old warehouse. Stained, sealed cement floors met my feet. The space was wide open and airy. The ceiling had plenty of skylights and stretches of windows were carved out of the walls.
A toy plane circled on a string attached to the ceiling overhead. Statistics on world hunger flashed on a screen on the opposite wall. And there was an entire table of coffee of every sort—decaf, bold, breakfast blend, hazelnut, and even one called loco.
Most of the employees I saw wandering around in the distance wore trendy jeans, oversized glasses, and earth-toned clothing. My gaze paused at one employee. A man, probably in his mid-twenties, with light brown hair, a confident gait, and a trim figure, talked at a nearby desk. Where had I seen that man before? I put the thought aside for a moment, hoping who he was would come to me later.
I smiled as pleasantly as possible at the woman behind the front desk as I approached. She was a twenty-something black woman with a stylish Afro and a stunning profile. She screamed “hip” and “urban,” which meant she fit in with the rest of the office space.
I tapped my fist on the wooden desk in front of me, feeling no-nonsense. I was usually up for being rascally at any given time. Not right now. “I’m here to see Garrett Mercer, please.”
She paused from tapping at the computer in front of her. “Do you have an appointment?”
I shook my head. I hadn’t concocted any type of cover story that would explain why I was here. I decided to go with the truth instead.
“I’m investigating the shooting of a local attorney named Riley Thomas. I believe Mr. Mercer may have some information that will be helpful in the search for the gunman.”
The woman’s eyes widened. “Let me see if he’s available.”
She picked up the phone, dialed a number, and a moment later she nodded me back toward a hallway.
I navigated the space. On one side of me, there was an open area full of desks, and on the other side were what I’d call the executive offices. I stopped by the one with “Garrett Mercer” on the nameplate beside the door.
The door was open, so I stepped into the office. Since the man’s back was toward me, I took a minute to soak in the minimalist decorations. His desk was in the center of the room and had clean lines with lots of space between the drawers on either side. A modern red upholstered chair sat against one wall, and behind it were canvas photos of Garrett with children from across the globe. A bookcase stretched to the ceiling on the other side of the room. Bright windows spanned the outside wall.
Garrett sp
un around in his chair, his gaze falling on me with an inquisitiveness that had me sucking in my breath. I paused for a moment. I’d expected him to be cold, rigid, arrogant. Success had a way of doing that to people. I wasn’t getting any of those vibes from him now. He held himself with an aura of confidence, yet a friendly easiness seemed to emanate from him.
He crossed around from behind his desk and approached me with an outstretched hand and a subdued smile.
“I’m Garrett.” A British accent rolled off his tongue.
“Gabby,” I mumbled, all of my mental preparation vanishing.
He straightened the sleeves of his pressed shirt and leaned against the back of his desk, comfortably crossing his ankles. “Did you help yourself to a cup of coffee?”
“I’m not thirsty.” Actually, coffee sounded great. Why hadn’t I grabbed a cup?
“Please, help yourself before you leave. Until then, what can I help you with, Gabby?”
“I’m investigating the shooting of Riley Thomas. I understand you had an altercation with him a couple of weeks ago.”
His shoulder twitched upward, his demeanor not appearing ruffled in the least. “Altercation would be overstating it, I think.”
“What would you call it then?”
“We had a discussion.”
“I think ‘discussion’ would be understating it. I understand you were very upset. That you threatened him, for that matter.”
He let out a slow breath and stared at me before nodding and rubbing his chin. “You’re a P.I.?”
I raised my eyebrows, remaining noncommittal. “I’m investigating.”
Half his lip curled in a smile. “Look, I don’t know why you’re here—”
“I think I made that clear. I’m investigating the shooting of Riley Thomas.” I refused to break eye contact. I wanted this man to know I was serious.
Any hint of amusement disappeared, and he nodded. “Very well. What would you like to know?”
“I want to know why you were so upset with him instead of the person who filed a discrimination lawsuit against you.”
To Love, Honor, and Perish Page 4
