Dust and Obey (13 page)

CHAPTER 22

After
getting home, I checked my messages and emails, sketched out my plans for the week, and made a grocery list. My little apartment may not have been the prettiest place on earth, but it was home. Even with its thrift-store, hand-me-down furniture, there was still no place I’d rather be.

I’d just sat down at my dinette with a cup of coffee when someone knocked at my door. When this person entered without invitation, I knew exactly who it was: Sierra.

She looked ready to explode. My tiny Asian friend was all belly.

I stood, ready to help her, but she held up a hand to stop me. “I’m fine.”

“How’s my little niece or nephew doing?” I’d already decided I would be Aunt Gabby. I wasn’t sure if Sierra and Chad had ever officially extended that invitation to me. But I’d taken it.

“Baby Davis is doing gymnastics in my belly. He or she is also using my kidney as a pillow.”

“You’re only four weeks away from your due date, right?”

“Right, but, really, the baby could come any time now and I’d be happy—as long as he or she is healthy, of course. I feel ready to burst, so I’m all for that.”

“I can’t believe you’re going to be a mom soon.” I ushered her to an orange upright recliner that no longer reclined, trying to get her off her feet.

“Why does everyone treat me like I’m fragile?” Despite her protests, she sat down and propped her feet up on a wooden stool I pulled over.

“You need to be pampered right now.”

She looked at me like she didn’t believe me.

“Remember that time you found that pregnant dog wandering down Colley Avenue?”

She nodded.

“Remember how you took it in and took care of her until the babies were born? You wouldn’t let her out of your sight.”

“What’s that have to do with me?”

I shrugged and leaned back on my couch. “I’m just saying that if the poor, little dog deserved that extra attention then so do you.”

“You know how to speak my language.” She sighed and let her head fall back against the chair. “Before I forget, Garrett stopped by the apartment yesterday.”

I suddenly straightened, nearly spilling my coffee as panic raced through me. “What? He told me he wouldn’t be back for another two weeks.”

She shrugged, seeming exhausted even after such a subtle motion. “Well, he got back early.”

“What did you tell him?” I held my breath, worst-case scenarios rushing through my mind.

“That you were at a couples retreat with Riley, of course.”

I stared at her, horrified. My worst-case scenario had materialized.

Then I saw Sierra smile.

“Of course, I didn’t tell him that,” Sierra said, all teasing gone. “I said you were away doing an investigation. Then I tried to call you, but it wouldn’t go through. He didn’t call you himself because he wants to surprise you. But what kind of friend would I be if I kept that news to myself?”

“You’re the best.”

“I know.” She arched her back before focusing her hyper-vigilant gaze on me. “Why beat around the bush? What I really want to know is about you and Riley. How was it? Awkward?”

“For the most part, I think we were able to remain professional with each other. Even better, we were able to avoid too many conversations.”

“What aren’t you telling me?” Her eyes narrowed as she studied me.

I frowned before deciding to plunge into the truth. “It’s going to be really hard having him live across the hall from me again.”

“Maybe this is a chance for you two to make things right between you.” She pushed up her plastic-framed glasses higher on her nose.

“Make right how?” Was there a good answer for that? Because I couldn’t see anything good coming from having a front-row seat here in my apartment to see him go out with other women and move on without me.

She rubbed her belly. “At least you could go back to being friends.”

“You still think he’s a jerk?”

“Jerk is a strong word. He went through a lot. So did you. I think experiences tore you both apart. And I just want to see you happy. I thought Garrett made you happy there for a while, but honestly you’ve seemed fine since he’s been gone.”

Her words caused me to pause. “What do you mean?”

She shrugged, still absently rubbing her belly. “I mean, when I’m away from Chad I miss him terribly. He’s all I think about. I didn’t see that in you while Garrett was away.”

I let her words sink in. She had a point. But I had a million excuses to explain all that. I was independent. Busy. Out of town. Concentrating on my new job. Were any of my reasons valid?

No, they weren’t. Because throughout all those excuses, whom had I missed? Riley. “Garrett’s a great guy.”

He was wealthy, so wealthy that when my apartment building had come up for sale, he’d purchased it so I wouldn’t have to move out. He’d been there for me, even through some of my not-so-flattering moments. There was nothing not to like about him.

“So what are you going to tell Garrett when you see him again?” Sierra asked quietly.

I thought about it a moment before letting out a sigh. “I don’t know. I wasn’t expecting to have to talk to him yet. I’m going to have to pray about this.”

“I see.”

“And I have so much going on right now. I’ve got my first training session tomorrow.”

“Chad has a couple of jobs he needs some help with also, if you’re available.”

I’d seen his emails and planned on helping some. My new job was only part-time, which allowed time for crime-scene cleaning as well as some P.I. jobs. I wasn’t a professional P.I., not by any means. But I’d had enough people contact me with little side investigations that I felt comfortable taking on the work. And I had worked as a medical legal death investigator for a whopping two months, so I had that professional experience.

“I think I should be able to help,” I told her. “But I’ll talk to Chad a little later to find out exactly what he’s thinking.”

“Speaking of which, he told me to give you this.” She reached into the bag at her feet and handed me a shirt.

I held it up and smiled. It was a new work T-shirt with “Squeaky Clean Restoration Services” across it. We’d adjusted the name as time went on, but I thought this newest wording was a winner. “I love it.”

“Well, I guess I should go.” She tried to stand but could hardly push herself out of the chair. Before she could argue, I helped her to her feet.

“Don’t forget: Your baby shower is next Wednesday.”

“I haven’t forgotten. I thought you might have.”

“Me?” I pointed to myself in mock horror. “I could never forget such a thing.”

But I did have to get on the ball. I was in charge.

It looked like my schedule was filling up quickly.

Good. Maybe that would keep my thoughts off Riley, Garrett, and murder.

Oh my.

***

That evening, after I’d reviewed all my notes for my training presentation and finalized some plans for the baby shower, I stared at the phone, wondering whether or not I should call Garrett and admit that Sierra had spilled the beans. But the truth was I didn’t know what to say to him. He’d given me time to think about our relationship, and I needed to give him an answer. Considering the fact that I knew somewhere deep inside me that my feelings for Riley hadn’t died yet, I didn’t know if continuing our relationship was a good idea or not.

At gut level, I knew the answer. But I also didn’t want to throw away a potentially great relationship with Garrett just because my ex-fiancé was living across the hall again.

I let out a sigh and decided to avoid the issue for a little longer. But if I really did care about Garrett, I would be rushing to see him right now, wouldn’t I? I wouldn’t be able to wait, especially since he’d been gone for so long.

Instead of dwelling on this, I sat at my computer and did an Internet search for Ginger Wagnor in Maryland. To my surprise, nothing came up.

Nothing? That
never
happened in this day and age. Everyone had some kind of digital presence.

I leaned back and tapped my finger against the desk. “Okay, let’s try you, Jim Wagnor.”

Thousands of results for the name appeared. I narrowed it to Baltimore and clicked through a few of the new results until I found an article on the Jim Wagnor from the retreat. I only knew for sure because of his picture.

I paused halfway through reading it.

According to this newspaper profile on the man, his wife’s name was Jill, not Ginger. Was Ginger a middle name and Jill a proper name?

A picture appeared. Jill Wagnor looked nothing like Ginger Wagnor. They were definitely two different people.

I quickly scrolled back up to see the date on the article. Sure enough, it was written just six months ago.

Jim and Jill appeared to have been happily married for twenty years. They had three kids.

This was
the
Jim Wagnor. That was clearly his picture, career listing, and hometown.

“You’ve got to be kidding me.” I shook my head. “Okay, let’s do another Internet search here.”

I typed in “Jill Wagnor,” halfway expecting an obituary to pop up for her.

But, no. There was no obituary. In fact, just last week Jill Wagnor had been at a gala event with . . . Jim. Their picture showed them happy together with their arms around each other. The caption referred to them as husband and wife.

What was going on here?

I had an inkling, but I didn’t want to believe someone would be that bold and obnoxious as to bring his
mistress
to a marriage retreat.

I leaned back in my chair and let that sink in.

That had to be it, though. There was no other explanation. Jim Wagnor had brought the woman he was having an affair with to the marriage retreat.

Someone had pushed her over the bluff.

As far as I was concerned, he was the most likely suspect. What if Anna had discovered that information and threatened to reveal it? Would that have been reason enough to kill her?

Maybe.

As soon as I got the chance, I needed to check this out.

Because I finally had my first decent suspect.

CHAPTER 23

I
couldn’t remember who’d said it was an irrefutable truth that when one thing in life worked out wonderfully well, something else in life went horribly wrong.

That felt like my life at the moment.

I’d just finished my first workshop with a police department about an hour from my home in Norfolk. I’d driven out to Franklin, Virginia, and worked with the officers there to show them how to use the new fingerprint-lifting equipment they’d ordered. Afterward I’d gone out with the police chief for lunch and had thoroughly enjoyed our interaction.

For the first time in a long time, I felt respected and like a professional among law enforcement.

I guessed that wasn’t entirely true. I’d received an award a month or so ago for being a promising forensic investigator. I’d had newspaper articles written about some of the cases I’d solved, cases that had baffled the police. So I wasn’t sure exactly why I felt like this, except that sometimes the professionals were the ones who didn’t take me seriously. They thought I got in the way. And sometimes I did.

But for a moment today I’d felt like one of the gang. In fact, I’d had officers asking my advice about the best ways to lift fingerprints from various surfaces and the best kinds of dust to use in different situations. Answering their questions gave me an immense satisfaction. I was going to like my new job.

I was done with this training for today and headed back to Norfolk. I was headed a little farther than that, truth be told.

I hadn’t been able to stop thinking about Ginger Wagnor—or whatever her last name was. I’d called the hospital, but, of course, there was no one there registered with that name.

Though it was a bit of a long haul and the tolls would cost me more than twenty bucks, I wanted to return to the Eastern Shore. I wanted to see Ginger, check her status, and find out if Jim was there. I might even want to talk to the police.

I felt a fire in my blood at the thought. Maybe I was finally getting somewhere.

As I came to a stop at a traffic light, my phone buzzed. I’d gotten a text from Garrett.

Yes, I might have texted him this morning instead of calling because I was feeling kind of wimpish.

Surprise. I’m back. Unfortunately, I have to go back to Cincinnati for a few days on business. I’m sorry we weren’t able to see each other.

Relief filled me. Relief? What kind of a person was I? I should feel disappointed.

But my confusion was getting the best of me.

I quickly typed back:

Me 2. Let me know when U R back. I’ll be out of town this weekend working on a new case. Leaving Friday.

Almost as soon as I sent that message, my phone rang. It was Riley. After a second of hesitation, I answered. “Riley. What’s going on?”

“I’ve been doing some research. I thought you might find a few things interesting. You up for meeting tonight?”

Drats! He’d caught me. “I was actually heading over to the Eastern Shore.”

“Really? Why?”

“I want to check on Ginger and maybe talk to the police. I’ve discovered a few interesting things as well.”

“Do you mind if I ride along with you?”

Kind of.
“I figured you had to work.”

“I have more flexible hours right now. When are you leaving?”

“I’m headed toward Norfolk from Franklin. I’m probably forty-five minutes away now.”

“I can be back at the apartment by then.”

I frowned. “Great. I’ll swing by and pick you up.”

I took several deep breaths as I threw my phone onto the seat beside me.

I could handle this. I’d handled it all weekend. Certainly I could handle a little drive across the water with Riley.

Despite that, my stomach was all twisty and knotty and uneasy.

Sometimes a girl had to face her challenges head on, though. At least, that’s what I tried to tell myself.

***

My knuckles were white on the steering wheel as I headed across the Bay Bridge Tunnel with Riley beside me.

Strangely enough, he didn’t seem uptight at all. In fact, he looked rather laid-back as he sat next to me munching on a granola bar and sipping some coffee. He’d gotten some java for me, as well.

Yes, something about him had changed. There had been a part of him that was uptight, and that seemed to be disappearing since his accident. Maybe it was like he said: Almost dying could put life into perspective.

“So, you want to go first or shall I?” He crumpled up his wrapper and stuffed it back into the plastic bag from the store.

We’d had the obligatory small talk the first twenty minutes of our trip. The weather. Work. Sierra and Chad’s baby.

“You,” I said easily. I took a deep breath, soaking in the warm sunshine that bathed the car and the road. It was a beautiful afternoon. I could handle this trip with Riley.

But as I glanced in my rearview mirror, my gut churned. Why did I have the strange feeling that someone was following us? I didn’t see anyone suspicious behind us. But the feeling wouldn’t leave me.

“Okay, I called Rae Gray up in Baltimore to see if she’d discovered anything about Anna’s death,” Riley said.

That was the reporter Brad had mentioned to us, the one who had disappeared. “And?”

“He’s telling the truth when he said she’s nowhere to be found. Her office said she was gone all week. Of course, they can’t tell me too much. I did get her cell phone number, though. I tried to reach her, but her voicemail box is full. I couldn’t even leave a message.”

“So do you really think something could have happened to her as a result of investigating Anna’s death?” I glanced in my mirror again. Just as before, there weren’t any suspicious vehicles. My brain must be playing tricks on me.

“I have no idea. But it seems suspicious.”

“I agree.” I nodded, considering the possibility that someone could be desperate enough to kill to keep a secret.

“Your turn.”

I sucked in a deep breath before plunging ahead. I shared what I’d learned about Jim and Ginger whatever-her-last-name was.

“So Ginger is his . . . mistress?” Riley asked, his coffee frozen mid-sip. “Do people still use that word?”

“What else would she be?”

“I guess we’re not the only couple there under false pretenses.” Riley’s jaw tensed as if he was deep in thought. It was a lot for anyone to take in.

“In my mind, that makes Jim the prime suspect. I mean, he has the most to lose. He’s married. A divorce could take away his money or his children. Maybe he’s desperate to keep this relationship quiet.”

“Then why come to this retreat?”

I bit down before shaking my head. “I’m not sure. I’ve thought about that also. I figured maybe the retreat is so small they didn’t feel threatened by being there.”

“Even aside from that, why would a couple who’s not married need to go to a retreat center for counseling? Most people end affairs. They don’t seek therapy to make them work.”

“All excellent points. Until we talk to either Ginger or her husba—her boyfriend, I guess we won’t know for sure.”

One more thought entered my mind. I’d seen that boat. What if Jim’s wife—his real wife—had found out about the affair? What if she’d come to the island at night and somehow lured Ginger outside?

Stranger crimes of passion had been committed.

But I had to stop speculating. Right now, I needed to seek some answers.