Hazardous Duty (19 page)

His gaze brightened. “That’s great.”

“He was blackmailed. He has no idea who
put him up to it.”

“There’s always a trail.”

I nodded and let my gaze travel down
Riley. He wore a T-shirt and jeans. Where was church boy’s suit and tie? I
wondered. “So much for church, huh?”

He glanced down at his clothes. “I
went.”

“I see. Bedside Baptist?”

He chuckled. “No, a community church
that meets at a school down the street, actually.”

I stored away the information. Either
Riley was sorely underdressed, or his church was casual.

“So, how about lunch? You owe me one
since you stood me up on Friday.” Riley waited for my answer.

“Give me thirty minutes.”

“They’re all yours.”

***

Riley and I sat across from each other
at a Mexican restaurant down the street. Cheerful mariachi music blared through
speakers above as we enjoyed some chips and salsa. A mural of a Mexican fiesta
colored the walls and paper lanterns hung from the ceiling. How could you not
feel happy coming to this restaurant?

“What else did they tell you about the
man they arrested?” Riley asked, taking a sip of his soda.

“Nothing really. He cheated on his wife
and the blackmailer threatened to expose him unless he locked me in the trunk.”

He raised an eyebrow. “He must have been
desperate to keep his fling a secret.”

I shrugged. “The blackmailer said I
wasn’t going to die. They just wanted to scare me.”

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 not 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.