Hazardous Duty (21 page)

“Yes, but—”

“No buts, Gabby. You need to take them
to the police.”

It was the last thing I wanted to do.

“Don’t go to jail over them.”

He had a point.

“I
will
take them to the police.”

It might not be today or tomorrow, but
eventually
,
I would.

Was I lying? I sure felt guilty like I
was.

You should take them in today, an inner
voice said. I shook my head, not willing to give up my clue. I rubbed my
temples, a headache coming on.

“Everything okay?”

I snapped my head in Riley’s direction.
“Everything’s fine. Why?”

“Your head was wobbling there for a
minute.”

I sagged into the seat.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” Riley leaned
forward and studied my expression.

The concern in his eyes was enough to
melt my heart. “No, I’m not feeling great all of the sudden.” And I wasn’t. My
eyelids were heavy, my muscles sore. The past week was catching up with me.

“We’ll get you home and I’ll see to it
you rest for the remainder of the day. Understand?”

I nodded with a brief jut of the head
forward. “Understand.”

***

An hour later I was under an afghan on
the couch, my favorite movie rolling across the TV screen and a glass of Ginger
ale on the table beside me.

I’d insisted to Riley that he leave. I
knew he had things to do, including grocery shopping. Not even ten minutes
after he departed from my apartment, I heard the door close across the hall and
footsteps clunking downstairs.

Les Miserables
droned on in the
background. I tried to get points from Javert for catching a suspect, but
finally gave up.

Why am I just sitting here, wasting
time? I should be up doing something, making sure Harold was found innocent.

The events of the past week flooded my
mind and exhaustion weighed me down. If I didn’t take a night to rest, I really
was going to get sick.

I took a sip of my drink and tried to
concentrate on the movie. A light rap sounded at my door. Who could that be?
Sierra would just barge in. Riley’s knock was firm and strong. My dad was out
of town.

I threw off my blanket and put the movie
on pause. Peering out of the peephole, a tall blond woman came into view. I
would remember if I ever saw this woman before. She was gorgeous. Definitely a
model.

I cracked the door. “Can I help you?”

The woman smiled, the action making her
seem more approachable and less like a superstar. “Yes, I’m looking for Riley
Thomas.”

Could this be a link to his past? I
pulled the chain off and opened the door all the way.

“He lives across the hall.”

“Oh, good. I was afraid I’d gotten the
wrong address. I’ve just flown in from LA.” The woman’s voice sounded as smooth
as honey. She didn’t miss a beat.

And suddenly I felt like the frumpiest,
most uncultured woman in the world. This woman had been on a plane all day, yet
she looked like she’d just stepped out of the dressing room.

I looked—I glanced at the jeans and
T-shirt I wore—I looked comfortable, at least.

“Do you know when he’s to return?” the
size zero woman asked.

“I think he ran to the grocery store. He
should be back any time now.”

My gaze drifted behind the woman.
Several suitcases lined the wall. This woman planned on staying awhile.

“Would you like to come into my
apartment to wait? At least it would give you a place to sit down.”

“Well, I suppose a friend of Riley’s is
a friend of mine. If you don’t mind, that would be wonderful.”

“No problem.”

She stepped inside and I saw the
apartment as she did. A simple, folksy pad. I had the impulse to redecorate.
Something more elegant and sleek. Expensive and lush. Anything but the colorful
eclectic mix of furniture I’d picked up at flea markets and the old movie posters
adorning the walls. Without frames even. Sigh.

Walking ahead, I grabbed the blanket
from the couch and folded it, opening up a place to sit. “Please, make yourself
comfortable. What can I get you to drink?”

“Do you have red wine?”

I bit my lip. “I have grape juice.”

“Skim milk?”

This was a bad, bad idea. “Will
chocolate do?”

The woman smiled. “I’ll take water.”

I excused myself. I wouldn’t mention it
was tap water. I returned with a goblet of ice cold refreshment and set it on
the table.

“I’m Veronica, by the way.” The woman
reached for my hand.

“I’m Gabby.”

A manicured hand met my
nibbled-nails-excuse-for-a-hand.

“Cute apartment.”

She was being kind. “Thanks.”

I sat in a nearby chair and watched as
Veronica took a sip of her drink.

“Long flight?” I asked.

The woman rolled her eyes. “Terribly
long. I’m not a big fan of flying, anyway. And the service was just terrible. I
hate to think how people not seated in first class were being treated.”

First class. Must be nice.

“So, Riley hasn’t mentioned he had a
visitor coming from out of town.”

The woman flashed a white, toothy smile.
“It’s a surprise. I can’t wait to see his expression.”

I leaned back, trying not to seem too
eager. “So, how do you know Riley, anyway?”

A coworker or sister maybe? An ex-girlfriend?

The woman’s smile grew even brighter and
she held up her hand, showing a sparkling diamond ring. “I’m his fiancée.”

Chapter Twenty-Six

My jaw went slack. Fiancée?
Riley had never mentioned a fiancée. I would have remembered an important
detail like that.

Heat rushed to my cheeks. How could I
have been such a fool? I’d thought there could actually be something between
the two of us and the whole time Riley was engaged.

Suddenly, it made sense. The coffee he
invited me to wasn’t a date—it was supposed to be a witnessing session. That’s
what lunch at the Mexican restaurant had been—Riley doing his good deed and
evangelizing. That’s all I’d been, hadn’t it? A pet project for Riley. A duty
to the faith. A mission to save the lost.

Veronica stared at me, waiting for a
reaction.

Compose yourself, Gabby.

I cleared my throat. “When’s the big
day?”

“We haven’t decided yet. I’m hoping for
a Christmas wedding, though. My father has a place in the Pennsylvania mountains that would be
gorgeous for the ceremony.” Her voice sounded dreamy, like she lived a
fairytale.

My hands began to shake, and I stuffed
them under my legs. “How long have you been dating? You know Riley, he’s such a
mystery. He never opens up about stuff like this, so please excuse my
questions.”

Veronica waved a hand in the air. “No
problem. We’ve actually been together since law school, so about four years.”

“You’re a lawyer, too?”

She flashed a bright smile. “Yes, Riley
and I have talked about opening a practice together. He just needs some time
after his last case. It was such a mess—”

Footsteps pounded up the stairs and both
of us looked toward the door. Keys jangled. It had to be Riley.

Before I could say anything, Veronica
darted across the room and threw the door open.

For a split second, I hoped this was all
a misunderstanding, that Riley had no idea who this gorgeous woman was.

“Veronica?” Riley said, surprise evident
in his voice.

She flew into his arms and planted
kisses on his face.

I stayed seated, watching the scene play
out. Riley’s arms slipped around his fiancée’s tiny waist. They did make a
beautiful couple, I mused. And both were successful lawyers, a much better fit
than a lawyer and a crime-scene cleaner.

For a moment Riley’s eyes met mine. I
thought I saw regret there. But maybe he just regretted his two worlds
colliding. Maybe he regretted what might come out of my big mouth. Maybe he
regretted getting caught. I wasn’t sure.

I stood from the chair and shut the
door, not wanting to interrupt their moment. As soon as the lock clicked, I
slid down the wall, feeling like crime scene sludge.

***

Still obsessing about Riley the next
morning, I decided to do some digging. I planted myself at my computer, which
was tucked cozily in the corner of my living room, right in front of a window.
I could look out it and see a lovely iron fire escape and assorted dumpsters at
the back of various apartment buildings. But hey, it was still an office with a
view as far as I was concerned.

Taking a sip of my coffee, I typed in
the words RILEY THOMAS on a search engine. Pages of results pulled up.

I leaned back and scanned the links.
Riley
Thomas, prosecuting attorney in the trial of Milton Jones, sweeps the victory
for the state. The media dubbing him a national hero.

That sounded good. I clicked on it.

A picture of Riley—my Riley—popped up.
Only he wasn’t my Riley. He was dressed in a three-piece suit, with an
eighty-dollar hair cut, and he had eyes like a shark. The article below the
picture read:

District attorney Riley Thomas has
become the newest hot shot on a long list of most sought after lawyers in the United States.
His victory with the Milton Jones case—

Where had I heard of that case?

—helped convict the killer.
Sentencing will be later, but the death penalty is expected for the multiple
murders of young girls in southern California.

I gasped. That Milton Jones? That case
had caught the nation’s attention. It was no wonder Riley looked familiar when
I’d met him. His hair was longer now, and he’d shed the suits he’d worn for the
televised trial.

Why would a successful attorney move to Norfolk, Virginia,
leaving his high profile career, his high priced suits and his high maintenance
fiancée? It didn’t make sense.

I scanned the rest of the titles,
looking for some answers. A profile in PEOPLE magazine caught my eye. A click
later, the article popped on the screen.

Riley Thomas announced his engagement
to Veronica Laskin, daughter of Virginia
senator Ed Laskin. The two lovebirds hope to tie the knot sometime later this
year.

Ed Laskin? I shook my head in disbelief.
Riley’s future father-in-law was the man running against Michael Cunningham. No
wonder Riley knew so much about local politics. No wonder he insisted Laskin
had nothing to do with this.

My broken heart hardened.

I closed the webpage, unable to take
anymore news today. Maybe cleaning the house would appease me. I collected
trash from the bathroom and kitchen and carried it outside. Bill nearly
collided with me when I opened the front door.

“You look distracted,” I said.

“Big interview coming up. I’m going to
the university in a minute to get some material for it. Decided I should change
my shirt.” He pointed to a coffee stain on the pocket.

“Probably a good idea.” I stuffed my
garbage bag into the container. “What’s going on at the college?”

“A big political debate between Senator
Laskin and Michael Cunningham.”

I paused. “Really?”

“Yeah, it’s sold out.”

I released the breath I held. “Too bad.”

“I have an extra ticket if you’re
interested.”

“I’m interested.”

He raised an eyebrow. “I didn’t realize
you were into politics.”

“It’s my newest crusade, you could say.”

Ten minutes later, Bill and I sped down
the road, heading toward the university located less than a mile away. Bill
rambled on about public education and taxes, but I barely heard him. I just
knew this was my opportunity to find some answers.

The parking lot overflowed and we ended
up having to walk three blocks. As we approached the convocation center, red,
white, and blue balloons decorated the area. A moderator welcomed everyone as
we slipped into the press area. Then the debate began.

I studied Michael Cunningham on the huge
screens they’d set up on either side of the stage. He showed no signs of the
traumas that had occurred. A confident smile plastered across his face. His
shoulders jutted back. His chin raised. Way too happy for a grieving husband.

Maybe I was being too hard on him.
Parker did say the man most likely couldn’t have shot himself. I still wasn’t
convinced. I’d seen his temper, up close and personal. I knew the man had potential
for violence.

My attention switched to Ed Laskin as he
appeared on screen. Riley’s future father-in-law. Was this man capable of
murder? Laskin had held his seat in the senate for almost two decades. The talk
was that Cunningham offered his toughest competition to date. Was Laskin
desperate enough to kill Cunningham’s wife to take him out of the running?

The man’s white hair and graceful
wrinkles contrasted sharply with Cunningham’s youthful charisma. The younger
crowd would lean toward Cunningham, I guessed.

Laskin held himself like a solider. His
movements seemed measured and strong. I couldn’t imagine Riley fitting into his
world. Of course, what did I really know about Riley? Apparently, nothing.

The two candidates argued their sides on
the issues, but my interest was in their actions, their mannerisms, their
psyche. Which of these men was capable of murder? Either of them? Was their
quest for power enough to end a life?

“There’s no way Laskin will win this
one. He’s burnt out, finished, old news,” a woman whispered behind me.

“I just can’t believe Cunningham is
still in the running after everything he’s been through. It takes a strong
man,” her companion replied.

Bill shushed them.

“Gloria would want me to continue in
this race,” Cunningham said. “We shared the dream of serving our country.” His
voice cracked and he paused. The crowd hung on his every word. Visibly
gathering himself, he went on. “Though many times I’ve wanted nothing more than
to give up, it’s not in my spirit to do so. Gloria,” he looked toward the sky,
“I’m going to win this election for you.”