The car sputtered again.
Then it stopped.
“Keep going!” Jones ordered. He slammed a hand on the dashboard.
I tried to start it again. The engine turned over before going dead. “I can’t!”
He growled. Finally, he grabbed my arm and jerked me out of the car. He began pulling me under the bridge. His breaths came out short and quick, the sound causing nausea to roil in my stomach. His fingers dug into my arm so tightly that I almost yelped.
A sound in the distance caught my ear. Sirens. The police. They were coming. But would they find us in time?
Jones swerved his head toward the noise. For the first time this evening, I noticed I noticed that his eyes were glazed. Finally, his gaze settled on the fence in the distance. “Climb it.”
I was so jittery that I could hardly hold onto the chain link. But somehow, I got over it and landed with a jarring thud on the cement slab below. Jones was right behind me, close enough that I could still hear his breathing, still smell the vapor of the swamp that had saturated his clothes and hair.
A staircase stretched in front of us. It was metal, narrow, and steep, zigzagging up—my gaze traveled to the top—probably eight stories.
Jones nudged me. “Go.”
I started up the first step, my knees weaker than spaghetti noodles. Condensation had formed on the platforms and caused my feet to slip, despite the safety grooves. But with the knife at my back, I kept going.
I ignored the slits between the steps that were filled with nothing but air. I couldn’t glance down. Each time I did, a wave of dizziness made my head spin. I forced one leg in front of the other and gulped in deep breaths.
I knew where this maze of stairways led.
They led to the catwalk that ran along side the High Rise Bridge. I’d seen repair crews use it to get to the bridge tender’s office located in the middle of the span. It was barely anything to walk on, only a thin piece of metal that separated you from a horrifying drop into the watery grave below.
With each step, my breathing became shallower. Jones kept a good pace behind me, that knife always close to my flesh. Finally, I reached the top.
The catwalk stretched before me, looking more like a gangplank at the moment. I made the mistake of looking down. The water was so far below that all I could see was a huge mass of black.
Falling off this bridge would be like falling into an endless abyss. Was that Jones’ plan? To throw me off this bridge to my death? I’d almost rather take a bullet.
“Keep going,” Jones ordered.
I took my first step onto the stretch of metal. One foot in front of the other, I told myself. Eyes straight ahead.
The bridge was massively high so that huge Navy vessels and barges could come and go. I didn’t normally have a fear of heights, but looking down now, anxiety clutched my chest. Cars zoomed past us on the Interstate, separated only by a cement divider. Certainly the drivers were clueless.
I briefly considered hurdling the divider, but I knew I’d only end up as road kill.
I didn’t know how this was going to play out, but I couldn’t see it ending well. At least maybe the women would get away.
Sacrifice. Isn’t that what I’d been thinking about lately? Of course, the sacrifices I’d been thinking about lately seemed petty in comparison to the sacrifice of life. I’d been thinking about giving up my dream career for my dream guy. I had to face it: Either way, I would win with those choices.
But right now, my only comfort concerning sacrificing my life was the fact Jones had me, which might mean everyone else would live.
For a moment, I remembered Jesus and His sacrifice on the cross. I wondered if He’d experienced a moment of the fear I felt now. I wondered if He had any second thoughts. I wondered if He’d wished someone could take His place.
My heart cried out for Him. It cried out with love. With understanding. With pleading that He’d intercede right now.
Against my better judgment, I looked back and saw the flashing of blue and red lights below. The police. They were here!
“Go faster!” Jones told me. The knife pressed harder.
A flash of lightheadedness hit me again when I looked at the open space beside me, a flimsy railing the only thing that separated me from falling to my death into the black water below. The wind picked up and swept over the bridge unhindered. I prayed it wasn’t strong enough to push me right over the edge.
We finally reached the peak of the bridge’s arch. Jones pushed me until my head hovered over the railing. Only black air waited below. No one would survive a fall off this bridge. It was too high. The impact from the water would be too great.
“Would you like to go for a swim?” Jones’ twisted humor seemed to return because he chuckled as if he enjoyed this too much.
“You’re not going to get away with this,” I muttered. Famous last words, right?
“No one ever thought I would get this far. Don’t underestimate me. Everyone else did. My sister. My wife. My own daughter even.”
I pulled back so my body weight wouldn’t propel me over the edge. Jones and I faced off. He knew there was nowhere I could go without risking falling into the water below.
“I’ve been underestimated my entire life,” I started. “I understand.” Here I was, trying to find common ground with a serial killer. But still, I spoke the truth. I hoped he could see that in my gaze. It might not make any difference . . . but maybe it would.
“You don’t know anything,” Jones muttered.
Behind him, I saw two cops creeping down the catwalk, coming from the bridge tender’s office. I kept talking, hoping to distract him. My hands gripped the railing, and I licked my lips. “Why are you treating me like your sister treated you?”
“She was a horrible person. I’m not horrible.” His eyes were so wide that I could see the whites ringing his pupils. It only made him look crazier.
“Are you sure about that?”
“I’m getting rid of the people who don’t deserve to be here. I’m helping to make the world a better place.”
The police officers crept closer. Adams appeared on the other side of the catwalk, and I noticed that traffic had stopped flowing on the four lanes of the bridge. Cop cars blocked the road.
I had to buy time. So I kept talking. “How would the world be a better place without those women? Without Mr. Sears? Without me? What did we ever do that was so horrible?”
He pointed a finger at me and laughed. “You see? Right there. You don’t even realize what a nuisance you are.”
“I try to help people.”
He shook his head. “You think you’re superior.”
“There couldn’t be anything farther from the truth, Milton.” I used his first name, trying to get his attention.
“Stop talking,” he muttered. His words slurred into one another.
I was messing with his head, and it was working.
“Why Mr. Sears?” I asked.
He sneered. “He was a casualty. We had to get him out of the way, so we could have access to the apartment building. Rose took care of him.”
“Is that what everyone is to you? A casualty?” I asked, trying to buy time.
“Let her go, Jones!” Adams shouted behind me. “We’ve got you surrounded. This is over.”
“This will never be over,” Jones muttered.
His words sent a chill down my spine. What did that mean?
Riley pushed past Adams. “Take me. I’m the one you want anyway.”
Riley . . . Riley was okay. Thank God! But no way did I want to substitute myself with Riley.
Jones chuckled. “Nice try, Riley. But all along, I’ve had a plan.”
In one swift move, Jones grabbed me and pressed the knife into my neck.
Just then, a gun fired.
The knife dropped.
The force of the bullet propelled Jones away from me. He lumbered backward a step.
His eyes widened. Blood soaked his shirt.
>
Then he hit the railing.
His body flipped over the catwalk. I leaned over in time to see him fall. And fall. And fall.
Finally, his body hit the water with a splash.
All the tension in my body seemed to leave it in one goosh. I nearly sank to the ground, but Riley rushed toward me. He pulled me into his arms and held me up. “I’m so glad you’re okay.”
“The women?” I whispered. “Teddi? Clarice? Nichole?”
“There’s a crew there right now. They’re all okay. Rose has been arrested.”
My heart slowed for a moment. “What happened? What took the police so long?”
“Get this. They got caught by the draw bridge.”
A soft laugh escaped. “Of course.”
“It’s over, Gabby. It’s really over,” Riley mumbled.
Then why didn’t I feel so certain?
CHAPTER 37
Riley and I went to church Sunday morning. We had a lot to be thankful for . . . starting with the fact we were still alive.
Nichole, Clarice, and Teddi were still alive. They might all have to have counseling, but they were still breathing. Thanks to the fact that, in his effort to torture Riley, Jones had been distracted and rushed. He hadn’t had time to carry out his normal method of inflicting pain on his victims. No, they’d all gotten away with bumps and bruises, but they’d escaped the worst-case scenario that I’d feared would be perpetrated on them.
Rose was behind bars and facing so many charges I couldn’t even keep them all straight.
Dale was recovering. He claimed that he came to town early, as soon as he’d heard Jones had escaped. He drove past the crime scene that first day in an effort to follow every lead, to see if Jones’ calling card had been left at the crime. He’d suspected that Rose might not be as innocent as she’d claimed. He found out her family owned the cabin and had traveled out there to check it out. Jones had snuck up on him and knocked him out.
But, despite all the reasons for joy, doubt lingered in the back of my mind. Had Jones really died? Then where was his body? Washed out to sea?
My cell phone rang as Riley and I walked from the church back to our apartment. I recognized the number. Clarice.
I held up a finger to excuse myself from my conversation with Riley for a moment and answered. “Clarice. How are you?”
“I’m going to be having nightmares for a long time.”
“We all are,” I conceded.
“This whole thing really helped me to reevaluate my life. Life is too short for me to be someone I’m not. You really helped me to realize that. Thank you.”
My heart warmed a moment. “I’m glad something good came out of all of this. And people are going to love you for who you are, Clarice. If they don’t, then they’re not worth your time. Don’t forget that.”
“I won’t. And I’ll see you around, Gabby. I’m always available if you need me to help you with any jobs!”
I hoped that wouldn’t be the case. Chad and Sierra were coming back tonight. Thank goodness. “Got it, Clarice. Take care of yourself.”
As soon as I hit END, I looked up and saw Parker waiting beside his car outside of my apartment building. Something about him being there made something shift uncomfortably in my heart.
I gripped Riley’s hand as we walked up. “What’s going on?”
He stuffed his hands deep into the pockets of his khakis. “Just stopped by to give you an update.”
“Did you find Jones’ body?”
Parker’s lips pressed together in a firm line. “Not yet. There’s no way he survived everything that happened, Gabby. Our techs examined the amount of blood he lost. That, on top of trying to navigate the river in his injured state . . . there’s just no way he’s still alive.”
“Then why haven’t the cadaver dogs found his body?” Riley asked.
Parker shrugged. “For all we know, he’s already been washed out to the ocean. It’s going to take some time for the search to be complete.” He drew in a deep breath. “You both did good work. We may not have found him without your help, so I wanted to say thank you.”
“I appreciate that, Parker,” I told him. Compliments weren’t easy to come by with him. He’d probably rather get shot than give one out, so I knew he meant it.
“You guys should go relax, take it easy for a while. You saved the lives of four innocent people. That’s nothing to scoff at.”
In the midst of all the craziness last night, I’d realized that it didn’t matter if I was offered that job in Kansas or not. I wasn’t going to take it. It wasn’t because I thought Riley’s career was more important than mine. It was because I loved Riley, and I wanted to be with him. Besides, Virginia was my home, and I had unfinished business here. I hoped that more doors would open in the future so I could use my degree to its fullest. But, until then, I’d bloom where I was planted, as the saying went.
I looked up at Riley as Parker walked away. The one thing I’d realized throughout this whole Jones fiasco was that life was too short. I didn’t know if I had years to live or mere hours.
“Let’s get married.”
He grinned softly. “I thought we were getting married.”
“No, I mean let’s ditch this whole big wedding. We don’t have the money for it anyway. Let’s get married . . .” I shrugged. “I don’t know. Soon.”
“How soon are you talking about?”
“Well, I do have to get a dress. And I know you have a few people that you really want to be there. We should give them a little notice first, don’t you think?”
He wrapped his arms around my waist. “Absolutely. How much notice is enough?”
I shrugged. “A week?”
He laughed. “You want to get married in a week?”
“Yeah. What do you think?” If we were married, we’d have no choice but to make a decision about our future together.
He kissed me softly. “Let’s do it. One week.”
“On the beach. At night. Something simple. Maybe we can have a reception later.”
“I like that idea.”
I grinned and squeezed his hand. “Okay, then. I’ll have to remind Teddi that we’re going dress shopping. I think that will be enough to lift her spirits.”
That’s right. Milton Jones was not going to ruin my life. That’s exactly what he’d wanted to do.
Riley and I were going to say our vows. We were going to love, honor and cherish each other until we drew our last breath . . . and Milton Jones was powerless to stop us.
###
Don’t Miss These Other Books in the Squeaky Clean Mystery Series:
Hazardous Duty
She always wanted to be a forensic pathologist. But when circumstances force her to drop out of school, Gabby St. Claire starts a crime-scene cleaning business. Suddenly a routine job turns up a murder weapon, and Gabby and her neighbor Riley realize that the wrong man is behind bars! Will they catch the real killer?
Suspicious Minds
Rock and roll may never die, but the King is definitely dead . . . again.
In this smart and suspenseful sequel to Hazardous Duty, crime-scene cleaner Gabby St. Claire finds herself stuck doing mold remediation to pay the bills. But her first day on the job, she uncovers a surprise in the crawlspace of a dilapidated home: Elvis, dead as a doornail and still wearing his blue suede shoes. How could she possibly keep her nose out of a case like this?
It Came Upon a Midnight Crime
Someone is intent on destroying the true meaning of Christmas—at least, destroying anything that hints of it. All around crime-scene cleaner Gabby St. Claire’s hometown, anything pointing to Jesus as the “reason for the season” is being sabotaged. The crimes become more twisted as dismembered body parts are found at the vandalisms. Who would go to such great lengths to dampen the joy and hope of Christ’s birthday? Someone’s determined to destroy Christmas . . . but Gabby St. Claire is just as determined to find the Grinch and let peace on earth and goodwill to men prev
ail.
Organized Grime
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. Crime scene cleaner and wannabe forensic investigator Gabby St. Claire knows her best friend, Sierra, isn’t guilty of killing three people in what appears to be an ecoterrorist attack. But Sierra has disappeared, her only contact a frantic phone call. Crime scene evidence Gabby discovers while cleaning tie seemingly random murders together—and point to Sierra as the guilty party. Just what has her animal-loving friend gotten herself into? If that’s not disturbing enough, who’s the person following Gabby? A federal agent who hopes Gabby will lead him to Sierra? Or someone with more sinister plans? To find Sierra and prove her innocence, Gabby will have to rely on all of her training and abilities, plus the help of a man she loves and the protection of a God she’s only recently begun to believe in.
Dirty Deeds
“Promise me one thing. No snooping. Just for one week.”
Gabby St. Claire knows that her fiancé’s request is a simple one that she should be able to honor. After all, Riley’s law school reunion and attorneys’ conference at a hoity-toity resort is a chance for them to get away from the mysteries Gabby often finds herself involved in as a crime scene cleaner. The weeklong trip is a chance for them to be “normal,” a word that leaves a bad taste in Gabby’s mouth.
But Gabby finds herself alone for endless hours while Riley is busy with legal workshops. Then one of Riley’s old friends goes missing, and Gabby suspects one of Riley’s buddies might be behind the disappearance. When the missing woman’s mom asks Gabby for help, how can she say no?
Secrets abound. Gabby even has some of her own. When the dirty truth comes out, the revelations put everything in jeopardy—relationships, trusts, and even lives.
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The Scum of All Fears: Squeaky Clean Mysteries, Book 5 Page 21
