Suspicious Minds (Squeaky Clean Series, Book 2) (19 page)

Chad drove me back to my apartment, while Riley went down to the jail to see about getting Sierra out. I wanted to go, but Riley seemed to think it best if he went alone. So I let him.

But I was still thinking about Charlie.

Of all people, why did a beautiful woman have to be assigned to partner with my boyfriend? Didn't. Seem. Fair.

"That was a riot, huh?" Chad shut off the ignition and looked at me with those sparkling eyes of his. Sparkling eyes were my downfall, but I wouldn't go there. Not. In. The. Mood.

"Yeah, a riot"

He walked me up to my apartment, seemingly oblivious to my inner turmoil. Either that, or he ignored it. Then again, did he even know I dated Parker? I glanced at Chad with his hands stuffed deep into the pockets of his jeans, his tousled hair, and his oversized, cable-knit sweater. Clueless would be my best guess when it came to Chad.

"Hey, do you mind if I check out your Web site?"

I stopped and leaned against my apartment door with my arms across my chest. "Why?" Did he want to one-up me when he designed his own Web site?

"I'm just curious to see what you've done"

"Am I supposed to believe that?"

He grinned that lazy grin of his. "Okay, fine. I've already seen your site"

"And you want to see it again, why?"

"I had some ideas I wanted to subtly bring up. I thought being subtle wouldn't hurt your feelings as much as the harsh truth."

I ignored that last comment. "You want to give me some Web site ideas. I'm your competition."

"I thought you were my friend."

Oh, he was smooth. Real smooth.

And was he my friend? I mean, sure, we'd been talking quite a bit lately. But friends? I'd have to ponder that one later. Right now, I pondered my Web site. "What's wrong with my site?"

He leaned against the wall beside me. "I really think if you add some before-and-after pictures of your cleaning scenes that it will give people a better idea of what you do"

I hadn't thought of that before, but the feature could be productive. I already had a stack of before-and-after pictures that I'd taken for insurance purposes. If I did use Chad's idea, I wouldn't post the really gruesome photos. I'd like to say that people wouldn't want to see them, but I know there are a lot of crazies who would.

I already had listed on my Web site all of my certifications, the services I offered, even a couple of testimonials. Pictures could do the trick though.

I pushed myself from the door and unlocked it. I motioned for Chad to follow me inside, where I went immediately to my computer. Thanks to Amy, I logged on. I smiled this time when my user name and password worked. Note to self: change user name and password in case anything like that ever happens again.

I typed in my Web site and waited for the pages to appear. As I waited, I stared out the window at the dark, nighttime sky. I couldn't see any stars, not here in Ghent. But a streetlight did reflect on some tree branches and look rather lovely.

My computer was running especially slow today. What had Amy said? I should get a new modem or something. Maybe I'd buy myself one for Christmas.

I tapped my fingers on the keys as I waited for my brilliant business, Trauma Care, to flash onto my computer screen. I'd paid some big bucks to have this Web site done a few months back. I needed to think of an effective marketing ploy to get the word out about my business. I'd done the Yellow Pages ad. I often went to fresh crime scenes to leave my card. But this way, people could be directed to my Web site to get an idea of my prices and what I did.

"Come on, come on." Maybe that new modem wouldn't wait until Christmas.

Finally, my page popped on the screen. "Here it is"

Chad came up behind me and peered over my shoulder at my Web page. I got a whiff of... well, he smelled like salty ocean air, actually. And I liked it. I needed to have my head examined, good and hard.

I blinked at what I saw on my computer screen. It wasn't my page.

I checked the Web address. Nothing wrong there. So what had happened?

Chad leaned in closer. "Did you update it since yesterday?"

I scrolled down on the page and drew in a quick breath. Someone had hacked into my site. Gone were all of my beautiful pages. In their place was the outline of a body and the words, "The only crime scene you need to worry about is your own."

"WHOA"

I stared at the page, imagining all too clearly the outline of my own body on the floor. "Whoa is right. That's a threat:"

Chad's arm draped the back of my computer chair. And though I was in crisis mode, I not only noticed the action, I liked it. Head examined, Gabby. Put it on your to-do list.

"Someone knows you're on to them."

"You think?" Calm down on the sarcasm, Gabby. Calm down. "How did they do this? And how do I get my Web site back?"

"People experienced with computers can do amazing things"

A new thought popped into my mind, and I swerved my head around to face Chad. "How good are you with computers? Did you want to come up here under the guise of helping me when in fact you just wanted to see my reaction to the catastrophe you created?"

Chad backed up. "Whoa"

I stood and glared. "Did you?"

"Gabby, I wouldn't do that to you"

I stepped closer and stared into those hazel eyes of his. "Are you trying to ruin my business by ruining my Web site and disguising it as a threat?"

Chad caught my finger, which at some moment had started to point at him, and jerked it to a halt. His hands covered mine with surprising strength. "No, Gabby. I didn't do that to you. You need to chill"

"Chill? Chill?" I wanted to flail my arms, but Chad still held my hands for some reason unbeknownst to me. "How can I chill when someone is intent on ruining me? Why can't anything in my life go right?"

I wanted to collapse in tears and feel sorry for myself because my boyfriend, whom I loathed, had a beautiful partner. Because my business, which was really just a temporary job on my way to being a forensic investigator, had been tampered with. Because my life, which when compared to the people I cleaned up after wasn't that bad, felt empty.

But I didn't collapse. I didn't believe in feeling sorry for myself. At least not in front of other people.

After I fell silent for a moment, Chad lowered his hands while still holding mine. "Are you okay now?"

"Define okay."

"This isn't the end of the world."

I took my voice down a couple of notches. "But it could be the end of my life. What's the difference?"

Chad locked gazes with me. His look told me he silently pleaded for my logic to return. "You know I didn't do this, right?"

Deep inside I did. "Maybe"

"You should call the police"

"They can't do anything"

"Call them anyway."

"Fine." I would if I got around to it-which I most likely wouldn't. I'd blame it on my growing to-do list. A girl's gotta have priorities.

"And you should be careful. Really careful. You're on someone's list"

I pictured the dead mold man. Yeah, I was on someone's list for sure. In fact, my name was probably highlighted and moved to the top.

So whoever had changed my password earlier had done it on purpose. The action hadn't been a random prank. When would I ever be that lucky? No, they'd hacked into my site and threatened me.

Which of my suspects was capable of doing this? Did Lynette have some hidden tech genius inside? Doubted it. Jamie? Doubted it even more. Rodger Maloney might be capable of it. I remembered all that computer equipment scattered around in his office.

I shivered. I didn't want to think about my own personal crime scene. The next day, after a fitful night of sleep, I cleaned Mr. Hermit's house. I was almost finished with the project, but I had to stop early in order to clean up after an accidental death-by-power-tool. Surprisingly, the scene wasn't too messy, but the family wanted me to remove any reminders of what had happened. The job probably took two hours altogether, and that's only because I threw in some extra services, things like adding some sanitizer to the air and wiping down surfaces around the scene. I take my job seriously and want to leave the houses sparkling and families comforted.

At home that afternoon-after checking on Sierra, who'd been released on bond with a temporary restraining order-I had to make some phone calls, starting with the man who designed my Web site. He said he had a backup of my site and would get my space live again in a couple of days. I didn't bother to ask how much he would charge. I didn't want to know.

Afterward, I briefly considered calling my dad to acknowledge his e-mail. I decided not to. I'd wait first and see if he'd walk the talk. Anyone could claim to change. The hard part was actually doing it.

I cast thoughts of my dad aside, realizing they were getting me nowhere. Instead, I found the number of the Las Vegas hotel where Darnell was supposed to headline. I called and asked to speak to the event coordinator. I was then directed to someone in marketing, who directed me to someone else whose title I instantly forgot.

A fast-talking man came on the line. "What can I do for you?"

I stared at the picture of the glitzy hotel on my computer screen and visualized Darnell Evans standing outside of it. The images just didn't mesh in my mind. "I'm wondering about an act you had lined up to come in. I can't find it listed on your Web site, though. It's for an Elvis tribute artist named Darnell Evans. He's supposed to be headlining a show at your hotel"

The man laughed. And continued laughing. An all-out laugh. Not just a chuckle.

What was going on?

"Lady, we don't have any Elvis impersonators do shows here. You must be thinking of a hotel somewhere on the other side of the strip. We're a classy joint. You know, we have people like Celine and Barry, even Mariah. But no Elvis"

I tapped my finger against my mouse. "I guess I don't need to ask you if you're sure about that"

He hung up, still laughing.

I put the phone down and leaned back in my computer chair. So Darnell had lied about getting his own show. Why would he do that? What exactly was he planning? And when did he plan on telling people?

While I was on the net, I decided to search for Mr. Hermit's family. I'd found some photos in his closet, and one of them had a name on the back. I liked to imagine that the boy in the photo was Mr. Hermit's son, that they'd lost touch, but that the son would be exceedingly happy to find out his father still loved him. That he'd be saddened by his death and grateful that I was thinking about throwing a funeral for the man he called Dad.

I typed in the man's first name with Mr. Hermit's last name. Twelve entries appeared. I ruled out five of them just based on the birth date that came up. I decided to start calling the rest of them.

The first two numbers had no answers. The third was an answering machine with a different name on it. The fourth rang and rang. I was about to hang up when a man came on the line.

"Hi, I'm trying to find the family of Richard Spruce."

Silence reigned a moment, and I held my breath. Finally, he said, "This is his son"

I stood and paced my way into the kitchen. "Just to confirm we're speaking of the same Richard Spruce, did your father live in Virginia Beach?"

"Yes, he did"

Wow, I'd actually found the man's son. With the phone under my chin, I propelled myself onto the kitchen counter, one of my favorite places to sit and think. I gripped the phone and tried to think of the right words.

"Sir, I'm sorry to tell you that your father has passed away." My eyes locked on the parking lot outside as I awaited his response.

"Yeah, I know." The man's voice sounded icy. I continued anyway, determined to do my good deed.

"I'm in the process of going through your father's things and-"

"I don't care what you do with them. Same thing I told my father's landlord. I hadn't spoken to my father in fifteen years. I didn't want anything to do with him while he was living, and I sure don't want anything to do with him in dying."

The sadness I felt surprised even me. "I see"

He grunted, and I feared he might hang up.