A server placed our food on the table. The smell of cilantro and onions made my stomach growl. I waited while Riley silently bowed his head before digging in.
My mind drifted to Harold. I wondered what he was doing today. Sitting behind cold metal bars, missing his wife and grandkids, being blamed for a crime he didn’t commit. Why was I the only one who could see it?
“Something on your mind?” Riley asked.
“I’m just trying to figure things out.”
“That’s a big job.”
I raised my eyebrows. “Tell me about it.”
I studied Riley’s face, the defined etch of his cheeks, the slight scruff on his chin. There was something different about him. I’d known it from the first day we met.
“Can I ask you a question?” I took a bite of my burrito.
“Shoot.”
I put my fork down and wiped my mouth. “You seem like a logical person. Why do you believe in God?”
“Why wouldn’t I believe in God?” He looked out the window, before meeting my gaze. “Life seems pretty empty without Him.”
“But do you really believe that this guy in heaven made the earth in six days and rested on the seventh? That He made woman from a man’s rib? That a fallen angel became Satan? It’s the stuff of Greek mythology.”
“Where do you think we came from?”
I shrugged. I hadn’t really thought about it since high school science class. “I don’t know.”
Riley pushed his plate away. “Let me ask you a question then. Why don’t you believe in God?”
“Because if there’s a God up there, He doesn’t care about me, so why should I give Him my love?” I wished I could take the words back, that I could retreat somewhere and not feel vulnerable like I did at the moment. I met Riley’s gaze, expecting to find condescension or pity. Neither of those emotions were present, though. Instead, compassion shone in his eyes.
“It’s easy to confuse life with God,” he stated.
“What do you mean?”
“I mean, sometimes we assume that life is a reflection of God. But it’s not. Life is this way because God gave us a choice on how to live, and, as humans, we screw up. Therefore, we have a lot of ugliness around us. But that’s not a picture of God.”
I let the thought settle in my mind. “And you think I’m confusing life with God?”
“Your experiences have shaped your perspective. The truth is when bad things happen, God grieves over them just like we do.”
Something about what he said made sense. I needed time to turn it over in my mind, though. “You’ve given me something to think about.”
“Anytime you want to talk about it, I’m here.”
Somehow, I knew Riley would always be there. He gave off that aura and I found extreme comfort in the fact. Deep inside, I longed for the security of steady companions. I hadn’t found it in my family. And it seemed each time I made a friend, they ended up moving. Sometimes, life felt so lonely.
“Gabby . . .” Riley started. He hesitated. “Who’s Timmy?”
“Timmy?” I repeated. How had he heard about my brother?
“You said his name when I found you locked in the trunk.”
“Oh.” I never talked about what happened to my brother. I hadn’t since the police gave up on the investigation. I knew it was my fault those men had taken him. If only I’d kept an eye on him. I glanced up at Riley’s expectant gaze and shrugged. “It must have been a dream or something.”
“Looked like more of a nightmare.”
I pushed my half-eaten burrito away and glanced at Riley’s empty plate. “You ready to head back?” I stood.
His gaze stayed on me a minute as if he contemplated asking me more. Finally, he stood. “Sure, let’s go.”
He dropped some money on the table, and we walked across the street in silence. I remembered that awful flashback I’d had of Timmy when I was locked in the car. It had seemed so real.
The sound of Riley chuckling pulled me out of my sorrowful state. I glanced over at him as he stared at a telephone pole, shaking his head. What kind of poster had someone put up now? I wondered, staring at the papier-mâché pole.
“Sierra put up posters of Lucky.” Riley shook his head. “When she said she’d find the bird’s owner, I was hoping she might place a classified ad in the paper or something.”
I examined the cluttered pole, filled with everything from concert information to strongest man competitions. Right in the middle was a picture of Lucky with the words FOUND underneath.
“That’s Sierra for you,” I said.
We clamored inside and upstairs. I paused by my door and looked up at Riley. “Would you like to come inside a moment? I promise, no talks of murder or chasing down the bad guys.”
I expected him to say no, but instead he shrugged. “Sure, I’d like that.”
We both sat on the couch. “Thanks for all your help, lately,” I told him. “In case I haven’t told you, you’ve been a real godsend.”
“You’ve been a godsend, too, Gabby. You’ve made my transition a lot easier. To tell you the truth, I wasn’t sure how things were going to work out moving here.”
“You never did tell me why you moved?”
“I didn’t, did I?”
I tilted my head. “And you’re not going to.”
The hesitation was obvious on his face. “It’s a long story.”
“I understand.”
“It’s not that I don’t want to tell you, Gabby. I just have to work through some issues first. Tell me you understand that.” He rested one strong hand on my cheek and angled my face toward his. “Please.”
“I understand. At least, I understand as much as I can without knowing anything.”
He chuckled and our eyes met. Riley’s swirled as he leaned closer.
He wanted to kiss me. I could see it. And I wanted to kiss him. I wanted to know if fireworks would explode, if our relationship would work at the next level. I wanted Riley Thomas to be mine and only mine.
His eyes continued to pull me in. Anticipation charged through my veins. I had feelings for Riley that I’d never experienced before. Even if he was a stuffy lawyer, he was still lovable and sweet and on my mind constantly.
I closed my eyes and leaned closer. I waited to feel his lips against mine. I waited to know he returned my feelings.
Riley’s hand slipped away from cheek.
My eyes fluttered open and I saw Riley had turned away.
I clasped my hands in front of me. My gaze roamed the apartment, looking for a distraction, for something to cover my humiliation. Maybe I had imagined that he returned my feelings. Maybe it had been wishful thinking. I mean, why would someone like Riley Thomas be interested in me? Before he could see my burning cheeks, I stood.
The light on my answering machine flashed, so I escaped from the couch to check it.
It said I had three calls. I pressed play. The first was from a charity wanting me to donate money. The second was from a lady needing her entryway cleaned. An intruder had been shot there. She wondered if I could come tomorrow morning.
The next message was left only ten minutes earlier. I glanced at Riley as an electronically altered voice spoke through the machine.
“Listen, you want evidence? Go to the warehouse on Eighth and Main. You’ll find an envelope there that will prove Cunningham is guilty. Come before nine o’clock or you’ll miss your chance.”
Chapter Twenty-Four
“We’ve got to go,” I said, reaching for my purse.
Riley grabbed my arm. “You need to call the police.”
I considered calling Parker. He’d been supportive last night. But this was something I needed to do without him. “I’ll be okay.”
“It could be a set up, Gabby.”
“I’ll be careful.” I softened my voice. “Look, you don’t have to go. But I will.”
“You think I’m going to let you go by yourself? You’re crazy.”
“I’m no
t twisting your arm,” I reminded.
“You should call the police.
“But I’m not.”
He sighed. “Let’s go. But just for the record, I still don’t think this is a good idea.”
Fifteen minutes later we pulled up to the warehouse. I almost changed my mind and decided to follow Riley’s advice when the creepy building came into sight. It looked like a crime scene waiting to happen. Most of the windows were busted, litter tumbled with the wind against the building’s crevices.
“You sure you want to do this?” Riley put the car in park and stared at me.
I was anything but sure. “Let’s go.”
Our footsteps echoed on the shadowed sidewalk as we walked toward the alley. Each pulsation seemed to warn “go back, forget about this.” A fast food wrapper scraped against the ground, moving with the breeze that swept through the streets. My back muscles tensed. I could mentally hear Pink Panther music playing in the background.
“It’s on the door of the dumpster, right?” I asked.
“That’s what the message said.”
The dingy container was only a couple feet ahead. A few more steps and this could all be over.
My gaze darted around. No one hunkered in the dark places. Not even the homeless or a stray cat would come into this eerie place. That should have told me something.
We reached the dumpster and Riley reached for the top. With a loud, piercing squeak he opened it. A legal size manila envelope was taped under the door.
Riley reached for it.
“Wait,” I whispered. I reached into my pocket and pulled out a latex glove. Carefully, I pried the envelope down and held it at the edges. “Fingerprints.”
Riley didn’t say anything. He lowered the top and stared at me. His voice barely audible, he asked, “Aren’t you going to open it?”
“Not here. In the car.”
“Why are we whispering?” Riley asked.
“Good question.”
Mustering up all my cool, I walked back, imaginary spiders racing up and down my spine. The sooner I was gone from here, the better.
Riley placed a hand on my back, the action calming my nerves. Almost there.
Voices rang out from around the corner. I held my breath, waiting to see the source. Riley pulled me closer and an involuntary shiver tinged through me.
Was this really just a set up?
Two teenage boys appeared, not even glancing in our direction. I released my breath.
Riley opened my door, and I slid into his car. My fingers fumbled with the lock until it clicked. It wasn’t until Riley got in that my heart stopped trying to pound its way out of my chest.
“Do you have a knife?” I asked as Riley turned to stare at the package.
He reached into his pocket and pulled one out.
“You used to be a Boy Scout, right?”
Riley arched one eyebrow. “Of course. Eagle Scout.”
“Of course.”
Careful not to touch the letter except with my gloved hand, I slid the blade through one of the creases. Holding the corner, I let the contents slide into my lap.
Pictures.
Riley and I looked at each other, then looked back at my new clue. Naughty pictures.
With my protected hand I picked up a glossy print and brought it closer. “Cunningham was having an affair,” I mumbled.
“Who’s the woman?”
“I have no idea.”
Riley leaned in closer and the woodsy cologne he wore filled my senses. I almost forgot about the pictures for a moment. Almost.
“Does the background look familiar to you?” Riley asked. “It looks like they’re in an office, doesn’t it?”
The picture was shot through a window. It clearly showed Cunningham lip locked with a young auburn-haired beauty. I zoned in on the gold daisy earring she wore.
A professional had taken these pictures. Not a professional photographer—a professional blackmailer. The person who left the message, perhaps? The same person who had blackmailed the mechanic and tried to kill me? It proved that the cases were connected.
I studied the picture some more. “You see that tail in the corner? That’s one of the mermaids the city has decorating the downtown.” I leaned in closer. “It almost looks like this one has sequins on it, doesn’t it? Look at it, it’s not smooth like some of the mermaids.”
“At least we know it was taken in this area. Cunningham has a law office here, doesn’t he?”
“Yes, he does.” An idea formed in my mind.
“Someone went to a lot of trouble to make sure we got these,” Riley said. “They must be significant.”
“They’re also one beaut of a motive for murder. Cunningham killed his wife because she found out he had an affair. She threatened to go public about it before the election. He couldn’t let that happen because it would blow his chance at winning.”
Riley shook his head. “I don’t know. There have been a lot of stand-by-your-man women out there in recent years. It’s the popular thing to do when you’re in the limelight. Who wants to air dirty laundry to the world? If she went public about it, that’s exactly what she’d be doing.”
“Maybe she’d reached her limit.”
“Do you think she had these pictures taken?”
“I have no idea.”
“If she didn’t, who did?”
“Turn one over.”
I did as instructed. The back was blank, a national film company paper name the only marking. “Nothing.”
Riley started the engine. “You know you have to turn this over to the police. You could be charged with obstructing justice if you don’t.”
“But according to the police, Cunningham isn’t even a suspect.”
“It doesn’t matter. You have to at least show them.”
I leaned back in the seat. “Or I’ll go to jail.”
“Or you’ll go to jail.”
I sighed. “I’ll take them in first thing in the morning then.”
Riley cranked the engine and a few seconds later the car puttered down the road. I continued to stare at the pictures. “Take a left at the next light, Riley.”
He didn’t ask any questions. A few turns later we pulled up to Cunningham’s office building. My eyes scanned the landscaping around it.
“There! There’s the mermaid.” I held up the picture. It was a perfect match. “So he was having an affair with someone at work. The plot thickens.”
“It still doesn’t make him a killer.”
I glanced at Riley and frowned. “He’s got means, motive and opportunity.”
“It won’t hold up in court without more evidence. A lot of people have affairs today. Not all of them kill their wives.”
I closed my eyes, tired of meeting resistance everywhere I went. Why was this so hard?
Riley’s hand covered mine. “I’m not saying I don’t believe you, Gabby. I just want to let you know what you’re up against.”
“Most people would have given up by now.”
“And that’s just one thing I like about you—you haven’t.”
I squeezed his hand. “Thanks, Riley. You’ve been a lifesaver.” I meant it, too. I wouldn’t be here if not for him.
“There’s nothing else we can do now. We should head back and get some sleep. Things will be clearer in the morning.”
***
I couldn’t get the pictures out of my mind all night. I tossed and turned under my comforter, trying to come up with a usable theory. Trying to come up with a way to convince Detective Parker I was right. If I turned those pictures in, like I had the gun, I’d be handing over my only piece of evidence.
What if usable prints were on them, though? I’d be ruining my chance to find out.
Finally, at 5:30 I ended my misery and crawled from beneath the warm covers. The wood floor was cold on my bare feet, so I scampered across the room and slipped on my pink bunny slippers. After pulling on a bathrobe, I plopped at my computer and watched as i
ts blue screen lit the room.
Time to do some research. I pulled up Google and typed in “Gloria Cunningham.” The page filled with search results. The first several were about her murder. I clicked on an article and it appeared on the desktop.
“Gloria Cunningham, the daughter of former U.S. Senator Brad Hall, was murdered in her home . . .”
Her father was a senator. Which meant they probably had money. I tapped my fingers on the desk. He probably helped fund Cunningham’s senate campaign. If Gloria threatened divorce when she found out about the affair, it would have sent Cunningham into a panic. All his financial backing would be gone.
It sounded like a motive to me.
Gloria’s picture smiled from the top of the screen. No one deserved to die the way she did.
Gloria deserved justice. Harold deserved justice. I had to get busy.
I hopped in the shower and scrubbed away my worries with apple scented soap and shampoo. I went through the rest of my morning routines, dressing in my “Brainy is Beautiful” T-shirt, and waiting for time to pass so I could get started.
Someone knocked at my door.
I glanced at the oversized clock on my wall. 7:30. Who would be knocking at my door at this hour?
Moving slowly, as to not give away my presence, I leaned against the door and peered through the peephole.
Riley.
I slid the chain lock and pulled the door open. “What are you doing here?”
“I heard you were awake and was afraid you’d go off to another crime scene by yourself. I thought I’d stop by and offer my services.”
“Your services?” I questioned, cocking an eyebrow.
He shrugged. “I thought I could help. At least give you some company.”
I eyed him. “This isn’t a job for the fainthearted.”
I wondered what was behind his smile.
“I think I’ll be okay,” he said.
I considered it before nodding. “I have to make a stop on my way there. I’m leaving in five minutes.”
“I’ll be ready.”
I closed the door and smiled. I was getting used to having Riley Thomas around.
***
“You didn’t tell me we were going to Cunningham’s house,” Riley said, grasping at the ceiling as I rumbled down the road. He’d swung me by to pick up my van at the police station before heading out. He’d never experienced my driving before, and I was quite entertained watching him now.
Hazardous Duty Page 15
