Hazardous Duty (15 page)

I sat up straighter. “That’s a huge red
flag. Could it have been planted?”

“Yeah. It’s no wonder they suspect him.
Planting evidence, though. Who had one of Newsome’s hairs?”

I held back a sigh. “What good does it
do to know all of this, when the detective on the case disregards everything I
tell him?”

“Why do you think he’s disregarding what
you say?”

“Because he’s arrogant.”

Riley smirked at me. “Glad to see you’re
keeping an open mind.”

I rolled my eyes. “We had a little
confrontation today. He told me the ‘third time is a charm’ when I mentioned
I’d almost been killed twice.”

Riley stayed silent for a long minute as
if he was turning things over in his mind. Finally, he said, “Tell me about the
bomb.”

“Same make up as the one sent to me,” I
said. “Same handwriting and packaging, no return address. It sounds like
someone thinks Barbara knows something she shouldn’t. They want her to be
quiet.”

“Just like they want you to be quiet.”

“Which must mean I’m on the right track,
right?”

“Yes, Gabby. It means you’re so much on
the right track, that someone’s willing to kill to keep you quiet.”

gh

I hardly wanted to get out of bed the
next morning. The covers were a warm barrier from my hyperactive AC and, though
the sunlight filtered cheerfully through the wooden blinds, telling me it was a
beautiful day, there were killers out there. Staying in bed seemed like a much
safer bet.

Third time’s a charm.

Like a scratched record, it repeated
itself over and over.

It seemed a promise I would die.

There you go with that imagination
again, Gabby. The detective was probably just trying to scare you into staying
away from the case.

It wasn’t completely true, though.
Someone didn’t send me a pipe bomb just for kicks. They wanted me hurt, out of
commission, climbing Led Zeppelin’s stairway to heaven.

My cell phone rang on my wicker
nightstand, and I grabbed it. “Gabby St. Claire.”

“I’m looking for a cleaner and you were
recommended to me,” a man with a slight Northeastern accent said.

I forced myself to sit up. “What do you
need?”

“I work at a garage downtown. I’ve got a
car with an awful lot of blood covering the seats. I need it cleaned so we can
put it on the market.”

Maybe wading ankle deep into someone
else’s blood would get my mind off of how precarious my own life had become.
Plus, I had bills piling up. I couldn’t turn down any jobs unless I wanted to put
in some minimum wage hours at The Grounds. It wasn’t my cup of tea, at least
not today. “Sure, I can do that.”

He gave me an address, and I agreed to
get there as soon as possible. Slapping the covers back, I skipped taking a
shower—no sense wasting a clean body on a blood bath—and slid some jeans on,
along with a white T-shirt. I pulled a baseball cap over my mop of curls. After
brushing my teeth and applying light cover up, I was ready to go.

I stepped out the door the same time as
Riley. “Morning,” I said.

“It’s actually past noon.”

I yawned as we started downstairs side
by side. “I’d still be in bed if someone hadn’t called with a job.”

He paused. “Maybe I should go with you.”

The idea tempted me. But cleaning a car
was a one person job, and I didn’t want to put Riley’s sainthood to the test.
He’d already done so much. “I’ll be fine.”

“You sure? I don’t mind.”

“That’s sweet of you to offer. I’ll be
okay, though.” I glanced at his khaki’s and button up forest green shirt. The
forest green might survive, but what blood does to khakis . . .
I shuddered at the thought. “Besides, it looks like you already have plans.”

“Just going to the library to check a
few things out.” He paused by my van. “Want to grab a cup of coffee together
tonight?”

The offer sounded fun. “I’d like that.”

He grinned. “Eight o’clock. Be there or
be square.”

I smiled back, already in better
spirits. I was still grinning when I started my van. Ten minutes later I pulled
up to the garage. I stared at the building before getting out of the van. Grass
grew out of every crevice in the cement, and graffiti painted the brick walls.

I stuffed my keys into my pocket and
approached the building. The door to the office hung on only one hinge and the
inside smelt musty, like it hadn’t been used in a while.

“Hello?” I called. “I’m here to clean a
car.”

Silence answered.

I stepped inside, taking in the
cluttered office. A mug of coffee sat on an old desk calendar. I leaned in
closer. Why did the calendar say 1998?

“You must be Ms. St. Claire.”

My hand flew to my heart. A man in his
forties with thinning hair and a blue mechanics uniform stood on the other side
of the room. Between his protruding gut and huge lips, he had a unique look, to
say the least. Slap on some white feathers and he could pass for Donald Duck’s
older brother.

“I didn’t see you there,” I said.

He waddled toward the door, a hesitant
smile playing on his lips. “No problem. Let me show you the car.”

The thought of walking farther into this
building with Duck Man set off some kind of internal alarm and I froze. Between
the fire and the bomb, I had to be careful. But the man looked harmless enough.
I just wouldn’t throw him any stale bread, lest he and a flock of his friends
surround me.

I glanced over and saw the man waiting
at the door with a strange expression.

Great, I thought he might say quack, and
he thought I was a quack. I really had to stop thinking of people as animals.
Sierra had been a squirrel, this man a duck. If I wasn’t careful, I’d start
thinking of Parker as a dodo bird. Oh wait, I already did.

“You okay?”

Just to be safe, I nodded toward the
calendar. “I thought my business has been slow lately. Yours must be
practically dead.”

He quacked up. “I just bought the place.
Haven’t had much of a chance to do anything with it, including go through this
office.”

The explanation made sense. Putting my
shoulders back, I stepped forward and followed him into the garage. An old beat
up Ford Escort came into view. Duck Man opened the driver’s side door.

“I don’t know what happened in here.
Don’t want to know, to be honest. I just know it left a mess. The body’s in
good condition, and with a little work I should be able to make some money off
of this girl. You think you can get her cleaned up?”

I peered inside the car. Blood saturated
the passenger seat, and glass embedded itself in the carpet. I should be able
to get it cleaned up without much hassle. No job was too tough for Trauma Care.
The post office had their snow, rain, heat, and gloom motto. I had my blood,
guts, bones, and brain matter.

“I’ll see what I can do.”

“Great.”

He started to toddle away, when I
cleared my throat. “Would you mind opening the garage doors so I can have some
more light? The brighter it is, the cleaner I’ll get the car.”

“No problem.”

The doors opened, and I basked in the
sunlight.

I went to my van and pulled out the
supplies I needed, starting with a thick pair of gloves. My bandage made them
fit snug. The doctor said I could take it off tomorrow. I couldn’t wait.

I sprayed the seats down and let them
soak. A vacuum took up a lot of the glass, but much of it would have to be
removed individually. I would also wipe down the console and steering wheel,
anywhere that blood may have splattered.

Taking a break, I wiped the sweat from
my forehead and grabbed my water. Though the liquid wasn’t cold anymore, it
still tasted refreshing.

“How’s it coming?” the mechanic stuck
his head in the garage.

“I should be finished in about an hour
or so.”

He smiled, but didn’t show any teeth. Of
course, ducks didn’t have teeth.

“I’m going to grab some dinner. If I’m
not back by the time you leave, could you close the doors and lock up for me? I
left your check on the desk in the office.”

“Sure thing.” I watched the heavyset man
disappear. A moment later, an engine cranked, and I watched him pull away in an
old boat of a car. How appropriate.

I put the water back on the old
workbench and started cleaning again. The sooner I finished, the sooner I could
get out of this place.

An hour later everything had been
scrubbed and my equipment put away. The mechanic hadn’t arrived back from
dinner yet, but it didn’t matter. I could go home and meet Riley for our coffee
date. I smiled at the mere thought. I really felt like there could be something
there between me and Riley. He was different from most of the guys I’d been
with. I could even overlook the fact he was a lawyer, if he could overlook the
fact I was a crime-scene cleaner.

After doing a final inspection of my
work, I closed the garage door. The outside became a line of sunlight at the bottom
of the door until the heavy metal slammed into the concrete.

Darkness filled the garage.

I’d left the light on. I knew I had. Had
the mechanic flipped it off before he left for dinner?

My hand still on the handle, I tugged
the door, urging it back up. It wouldn’t budge.

Panic charged down my spine.

I’d have to feel my way to the office.

I inched forward, my shoes shuffling
across the cement floor. The workbench should be to my left. If I could reach
it, it could guide me until I found the door.

I could also grab a wrench while I was
there. Something heavy and dangerous. I’d even settle for some garlic.

If only my eyes would adjust to the
darkness, if I could see where I was going. But I might as well have been
standing in a deep cave. The black felt as thick as ink.

Hand outstretched, I crept forward. Any
minute I should reach the bench.

I held my breath, waiting to feel it.

My hand slid across rough wood. A
splinter dug into my finger. I jerked my hand back. I didn’t have time to worry
about it now.

My hands roamed the area. I remembered
seeing a wrench earlier, a big one.

Metal clanked across the room.

I froze.

Someone was in the room.

I darted toward the door, adrenaline
like hot fire in my veins. I stumbled, but caught myself before touching the
ground.

I had to get out of here.

Fingers clamped around my arm. I gasped,
swinging to a stop. A scream caught in my throat as a gloved hand slapped over
my mouth.

Warm breath pricked the hair on my neck.
“You couldn’t stay out of it, could you?”

Goosebumps popped over my flesh. Before
panic solidified, I jammed my elbow into the attacker’s gut. He doubled over,
but quickly grabbed my arm again.

“You shouldn’t have done that.”

Had I heard that voice before? Think,
Gabby. Think.

The man shoved a rag in my mouth. Its
foul taste made me gag. Oil. Cheap cologne. Who knew what else?

“Lie on the floor.” He shoved me on the
gritty concrete. His knee dug into my spine, pushing the air out of my lungs.
Tears stung my eyes as I realized what was happening.

He jerked my arms back so hard that
sharp pain split through my joints. Duct tape squealed, then ripped and clung
to my wrists over and over. Then my ankles.

What was he going to do?

Keep a clear head, Gabby. Pay
attention so you can give the police a description of the man.
My logic
meant nothing right now. I just wanted to live.

He yanked me from the ground using my
arms and shoved me. I squinted at the workbench, wishing the darkness would
clear. I needed to find something to protect myself. Anything.

The man pushed me again. I slammed into
the trunk of the Escort. My cheek throbbed at the impact. Keys jangled. The man
pulled me back and popped the trunk.

My body rebelled. I wouldn’t get in, no
matter what he said.

The man thrust me forward. In one
ungraceful motion, my knees buckled, and my head struck metal.

Then, everything was black again.

Chapter Nineteen

A happy song cut through the
murkiness in my mind. My eyes slowly fluttered open. Darkness surrounded me.

My head throbbed. Wherever I laid
vibrated, hummed.

And that happy song kept playing, over
and over.

My cell phone.

I tried to reach for it, but felt tape
around my wrists. Everything rushed back. Tears pushed into my eyes.

I was in the Escort. The car was
running, but not moving.

I closed my eyes. The garage door was
shut, probably.

Carbon monoxide would kill me in this
car. The mechanic would find me in the morning, if at all. With my supplies put
away, why would he think I was still here?

My van was out front. He’d check if he
saw it.

But what if it wasn’t?

Despair bit into me.

The hum of the motor was interrupted by
the sing song ring of the cell phone again.

I was supposed to meet Riley. Was it him
calling now?

I strained against the tape, trying to
reach my phone. My fingers stroked it, but I couldn’t grasp the plastic edges.

My arms went slack. I gulped in a
breath. My heart raced. The phone was my only hope. I had to keep trying.

My wrists ached as the tape cut into
them. Gritting my teeth against the pain, I pulled my arms forward.

The phone teased my fingers. Just one
more inch. The tension of my arms made them feel like they would snap. With one
last jerk, I tried for the phone.

The ringing stopped.

My body went slack as my mind raced.

Curling into a ball, I brought my knees
forward until they pinched the rag in my mouth. I tugged it out then licked my
lips.