Another man named Arnold James was also suspected. He’d killed another family in Missouri, had stolen nothing, and left very little evidence. There certainly seemed to be similarities in the cases, but nothing that truly connected James with the Mercers. The man was now in prison, serving a lifetime sentence, so confessing to the murder of the Mercer family wouldn’t have added any real time to his stay behind bars, yet he still claimed his innocence.
Some speculated it was a copycat crime, one meant to mirror Arnold James’ pattern of murder. The problem was, even if it was a copycat crime, they had no suspects for the copycat perpetrator.
There seemed to be absolutely nothing to go on when it came to finding the killer.
Which would make one interesting investigation.
I glanced up at the time on the console of my van and gasped. I was three minutes late meeting Riley.
I threw the folder into my passenger seat, grabbed my purse, and dashed through the parking lot. In my haste, I darted in front of an oncoming car. The smell of burning rubber quickly assaulted my senses and deepened my guilt.
I tapped the hood, waved, and tried to ignore the driver shaking his fist out the window at me. I knew Riley would be fine for a few minutes without me. But a small part of me feared leaving him alone for too long. I feared he might wander or forget who was picking him up.
I was so thankful to have Riley in my life. The past couple of months had been hard, though. Despite the fact that he was recovering physically from his brain injury, he was still having trouble with his memory. The doctor wasn’t sure how quickly those issues would resolve. In my mind, there was a possibility they would never resolve.
Honestly, I just wanted my old Riley back. I felt selfish, but every night, that’s what I prayed for. Over and over again. To the point of tears.
And I had moments of hope. I had moments when I saw glimpses of my old Riley. His humor came out. His protective instinct showed. His intelligence became clear.
But then he had other moments of looking vacant. Of not remembering certain moments in our history. Of looking like he couldn’t find the words.
Those were the heartbreaking moments. The moments when I realized that Riley may have survived the gunshot wound, but he still had a lot more to survive.
I tore inside the building, bypassed the elevator and climbed two flights of stairs. I was breathless by the time I reached the Neurology Wing.
Riley was in the waiting room. He stood when I walked in.
Good. He hadn’t wandered out. Hadn’t forgotten I was coming. Hadn’t panicked.
I rushed toward him and kissed his cheek. “Sorry I’m late.”
“It’s okay,” he insisted.
I studied his face a moment. His blue eyes were gloriously beautiful and clear. He had thick, dark hair and nicely proportioned, even features.
Really, Riley looked the same. If someone saw him and didn’t know what had happened, they’d have no idea. They wouldn’t know the trauma his brain had been through. They’d have no clue that the once successful attorney had put his law firm on hiatus and assigned his cases to other attorneys. They wouldn’t guess how frustrated he became sometimes because his life had been turned upside down.
Today, there was something new in his gaze. Almost … an apology? I couldn’t be sure. I decided I was imagining things.
We started walking back down the hall. “How’d it go?”
He shrugged. “My therapist said I’m making progress.”
“That’s great. It’s going to take time. But it will happen.” I reached down and grabbed his hand. He used to be the one who grabbed my hand, but I wasn’t complaining. Not really. At least, I was trying not to complain.
“That’s what everyone says.” Riley frowned. My old Riley was a fighter, a crusader. He’d been athletic and sure of himself.
It’s going to take some time. But it will happen. My own words echoed in my head. Maybe my problem was just that I was impatient.
We climbed on the elevator, squeezing between three senior citizens, two nurses, and a family with a small child. The ride down felt awkward and tight. There was no need to attempt a conversation.
We stepped off and began walking toward my van. I pulled my canvas jacket closer. Winter seemed ready to stake its claim on the area, even though it was only early November.
As we walked, I sensed a new heaviness about Riley. I wanted him to tell me what it was, though. That was one of the things the therapist said to do. Not to push too hard. To let him deal with things on his terms.
“Did you get any work done today?” Riley asked, changing the subject.
“I worked a little while this morning. Chad and I are renovating fire damage at a house. Can you believe it? It was Chad’s idea. He mentioned something about wanting to expand our company outside of crime scene cleaning.”
“What do you think about that?”
I shrugged. “I guess it makes sense. Expanding would give us more opportunities, though there’s a part of me that’s still holding back. Regardless, I spent all morning learning how to properly use a nail gun.”
He smiled. “I’m sure you’ll master it in no time.”
“I just hope I master it without accidentally killing someone first.”
“Didn’t you say you had a meeting with someone, also?” Riley asked.
“As a matter of fact, I did.” I told him about Garrett’s job offer, probably delving into too many details. But it was something to talk about. Something that wasn’t life changing or a sad reminder in our own lives of what could have been. The topic seemed like safe territory.
Riley looked down at me, that same heaviness still present in his eyes. “You should go for it.”
I shrugged. In times past, I would have been tempted to say yes to the challenge of officially investigating a case. But things had changed. “It’s a tempting offer, but I probably won’t accept it.”
“Why not? It’s because of me, isn’t it?”
I paused right there in the parking lot and laid my hand on his chest.
“Of course it’s not because of you.” I shook my head, realizing that the words I’d intended to be soothing might actually sound like apathy. “I mean, yes, you do play a part in my decision.”
Riley looked confused.
What did I mean? “I’m just trying to say that I want to be there for you. This isn’t a good time.”
He squeezed my arm. “You’ve already made a lot of sacrifices, Gabby. It’s starting to wear you down. I can see it in your eyes.”
I shook my head and looked away, afraid he’d see too much truth in my gaze. “That’s not true.”
He let out a sigh but said nothing. Slowly, almost unwillingly, we started walking again. We took several paces in silence until we reached the garage.
“You’d need to go to Cincinnati if you took the case, wouldn’t you?” Riley pulled away from me and stuffed his hands inside his jacket pockets, his steps slowing.
My eyes widened. “You’ve heard of the case.”
I was amazed at what he remembered and didn’t remember. For instance, he couldn’t remember when we’d almost been killed while tracking down an escaped serial killer whom Riley had put behind bars back when he was a prosecutor in L.A. He couldn’t remember being shot, either. It was probably better that way.
“The story was all over the news back when I was in college.”
I was surprised I hadn’t heard of it. Of course, back then I was immersed in my studies. When I wasn’t studying, I was helping to take care of my mom who’d been diagnosed with cancer. I’d picked up extra jobs to help with the bills.
We reached my van and climbed inside. He picked up the papers from the files and glanced through them as I cranked the engine. “Sounds like a really interesting case, Gabby. I didn’t put it together that Garrett was connected with those murders. I’m sure having some answers would mean a lot to him.”
“You remember Garrett?” Again—how did he reme
mber that detail, of all things?
“I remember you talking about your encounters with him when I was in the coma.”
The coma.
My throat clenched at the memory. Those had been some hard, hard days. The uncertainty of not knowing whether Riley would wake up had wreaked havoc on me both physically and emotionally. Spiritually and mentally, too, if I were honest with myself.
I put the van in reverse, but Riley’s hand covered mine. “Wait a minute, Gabby. There’s something I need to tell you.”
Tension pinched my spine as I slid the van back into park. “Okay, what is it?”
He glanced down at his lap. “I’ve been thinking a lot lately, Gabby. I’ve been talking to my therapist about something, and I think I’ve finally made a decision.”
“Made a decision about what?” Dread formed in my gut.
He licked his lips before his eyes met mine. “I’m going to go stay with my parents for a while, Gabby.”
“Your parents? Why would you do that?” His parents lived up in D.C., about three and a half hours from here.
“Because my mom has offered to help with my recovery. She doesn’t work, and my parents have the resources. They can transport me around without having to rearrange their schedules.”
All the air left my lungs. “Please don’t punish me because I have to work and I don’t have resources.”
He wiped a hair out of my eyes. “Punishing you is the last thing I want to do. I want to do the opposite.”
“Then don’t go,” I hurried. All thoughts of exhaustion and being overwhelmed fled from my mind.
“It’s the only way things are going to return to normal.”
Tears rimmed my eyes. “You’re breaking up with me?”
“No!” he rushed. “I’m just giving you some space. I’m giving me some space. I think this is going to be the best for both of us. At least I won’t feel like a burden this way.”
“A burden? I’ve never thought of you as a burden. If we were married—like we were supposed to be—this would just be one of those valleys, one of those ‘for worse’ moments—”
“But we’re not married, Gabby.” Riley’s words caused my heart to feel like a brick, like a solid lump that made it hard to breath.
“We should be married,” I added. We were a week away from the big day when he was shot.
“Life isn’t fair, Gabby. You and I both know that.”
Circumstances continued to prove that to me again and again. Including this moment right now.
“I want you to stay,” I finally stated.
He rubbed the top of my hands with his thumb. “This isn’t forever, Gabby. It’s just until I’m better. Until I don’t have so many appointments. Until I can start working again. We’ll still talk. Every day. I can come down to visit or you can come up to my parents’ place.”
A little bit of hope pooled in my heart. Still, I couldn’t help but think this was the end for us. I couldn’t help but envision him moving up to D.C. and staying. Or meeting someone else. A nice little nurse who helped nurture him back to health maybe. Or what if he felt like he’d always need his family’s help and support? Or that D.C. was a much better place for his social justice law firm?
“My therapist agreed that I have too much pressure on myself here. I can’t keep going on like nothing’s changed. Everything’s changed, and I have to accept that.”
I pressed the corners of my eyes as tears threatened to overflow. “I can’t change your mind, can I?”
“This is for the best, as hard as it may seem. It’s not ideal, but it’s the solution I’ve been praying for.”
I stared ahead vacantly, trying to grasp another life change, another life disappointment. My throat squeezed out any words that wanted to escape. It was probably better that I didn’t say anything else. I didn’t want to stress Riley out, after all.
He squeezed my hand. “I love you, Gabby. Nothing will ever change that.”
I nodded and stared back at the parking garage.
I wished I believed his words. But my past had taught me that love was hard to come by and even harder to make stick.
CHAPTER 3
Five days later, I sat in my apartment, staring into space. The soundtrack to Les Miserables played in the background. More precisely, the track “On My Own” played over and over again. I may or may not have set the CD player on repeat.
What could be more appropriate right now than a sad little melody about pretending your love was with you when he wasn’t?
I mean, if I had a daisy I might pull off the petals and do a little “he loves me, he loves me not.” But I was too afraid I’d end up with “he loves me not.”
I’d almost watched “Message in a Bottle” or any of those other Nicholas Sparks’ books-turned-movies that would leave me in tears. But I resisted.
Riley had moved out yesterday. By moved out, that just meant he wasn’t physically at his apartment. He’d taken his clothes and toiletries, but his furniture and everything else remained.
That brought me a small measure of comfort.
Still, the whole apartment building was up for sale, which was just one more of many changes I faced in my life right now. Sure, the place was run down and old. And, there was the fact the residents of the old chopped up Victorian were as vastly different as my mood swings had been lately. But this place was home, and I had no desire to move.
Sierra, my best friend, plopped down on the couch beside me and squeezed my shoulder. Her little Asian face, usually determined and tense, looked so compassionate at the moment. “It’s going to be okay, Gabby.”
“Nothing feels okay. I don’t want to whine. I want what’s best for Riley, too. But I can’t help but think this isn’t it.”
Chad—Sierra’s husband and my business partner—sat on the other side of me. He still had that surfer-like air about him with hair that was too long and a face that needed to be shaved. He and Sierra were total opposites, but they seemed incredibly happy together.
My friends were attempting to have a “let’s cheer up Gabby party,” but it wasn’t really working. They’d brought over a few of my favorite things, including pizza and cheese balls—something I only ate if I was really feeling down. We’d tried to play a game of Clue, but my heart wasn’t into it.
“Tell me about this job offer you mentioned,” Chad started, popping another cheese ball in his mouth. “This P.I. gig. It sounds right up your alley.”
I shook my head. “It doesn’t matter. I’m part owner of Trauma Care. I have other responsibilities.” I had to stay focused and forget about any flights of fancy.
“I think you should take the job,” Chad said.
I looked up at Chad, surprised. If I slacked off, he was the one who had to cover for me. That could mean some brutal hours. “It’s too much work for you.”
“Clarice is helping. I think we can manage, especially if you just give yourself a set time limit. I mean, we don’t want you gone for months or anything. But a week or two? We’ll be okay.”
Part of me felt relieved; the other part of me wanted to think I was a little more indispensable than this.
“You said this investigation would take you to Cincinnati, right?” Chad asked.
I nodded.
“My cousin lives there. You could stay with her. She could show you around. Plus, she has some pull. She’s a social worker, and her mom—my Aunt Lydia—is involved in more local causes than one person can count. I’d say between them, you’ll have a wealth of resources at hand.”
“Really? I didn’t know you had connections with the area.”
He nodded. “Yeah, I think you’d really like my cousin. Her name is Holly. Holly Anna, actually. We used to give her the hardest time about her name. Holly Anna the Pollyanna. She’s a trip.”
Maybe things were starting to fall in place.
“Gabby, I think it would be good for you to get away from here for a while. There are too many memories,” Sierra started. “Some
time away might help you clear your head, gain a new perspective. I know you don’t want to admit it, but you’ve been through a lot.”
“People have been through worse.” I hardly believed the words myself.
“Seriously, Gabby,” Sierra continued. “I was just reading up on the stress scale. I took the initiative to take it for you, and with everything that’s happened in your life recently, you have a good chance of becoming physically ill or having a mental breakdown.”
I stared at her a moment, unsure how to respond. Then I realized she was dead serious and truly worried about me.
Now that she mentioned it, getting away did seem like a good idea. Maybe Sierra was on to something. If Chad thought the business was covered, then perhaps there was nothing to keep me here. For a while, at least. It wasn’t like I’d be moving permanently.
But there were other issues to consider. Issues I didn’t want to own up to. But I knew I could trust Sierra and Chad. Besides, if I didn’t open up to my friends, whom could I talk to? I had to start letting down the walls I’d so skillfully crafted … for my entire life.
I rubbed my throat, the memories threatening to take over. “There’s also the issue of investigating a killer. I still have nightmares …”
Sierra squeezed my knee. I didn’t have to finish. She knew exactly what I was talking about. “This is nothing. A little cold case. It’s nothing like Milton Jones.”
“It involves a killer who murdered an entire family.”
“Ten years ago,” Chad added. “I think you can handle this.”
“It will be good for you,” Sierra continued. “Of course I’ll miss you like crazy, but then you’ll come home and tell me all your wacky stories.”
I thought about it another moment. She was right. I couldn’t let what had happened stop me from doing what I loved. The only way to conquer my fears was to face them. And the only way to truly love someone was to let them go and pray that they came back.
Getting away actually sounded like a good idea. There were so many bad memories here right now.
I nodded. “You know what? I think you’re both right. Getting away might just be the RX I need.”
Christy Barritt - Squeaky Clean 07 - Mucky Streak Page 2
