Dust and Obey Page 2

  Consider it pure joy, I reminded myself. That would be my theme verse.

  When I opened the luggage and spotted the check, my eyes widened. I didn’t know P.I. work could pay this well. I mean, the amount scribbled on that check was really nice. As in, “I could potentially get that new car I’d been eyeing” nice.

  I switched my last shirt into the new suitcase and closed the lid. This aerodynamic masterpiece of travel leisure definitely put my ratty one to shame. Riley was right—no one would buy it that we were married if my luggage screamed Kmart Bluelight Special and his elegantly stated I-make-more-money-than-I-know-what-to-do-with-so-I-bought-a-Louis-Vuitton.

  I set the suitcase on the floor and noted that my hands still trembled. I was even more nervous now than before. Seeing Riley had definitely shaken me up more than I’d anticipated. I mean, I was over him. There was nothing to feel awkward about.

  But even I couldn’t convince myself that my mental pep talk was true.

  I swiped my hair behind my ear, plastered on a smile, and stepped back into the hallway. As soon as I spotted Riley again, my nerves intensified.

  Gabby St. Claire, you’ve confronted killers and haven’t been this nervous. You’re a professional—a professional investigator, not a professional escort.

  Why in the world did I feel the need to clarify these things when I was the only one hearing the conversation play out in my head? Obviously, I knew what I meant.

  Welcome to my world.

  “Let’s go.”

  Riley smiled, took my suitcase, and carried it down the stairs. “So, how was your training? I can’t wait to hear about this new job.”

  “It went . . . great. I really learned a lot. There’s some new amazing technology out there to help police forensically. It’s changing all the time, and the advancements are groundbreaking.” I’d recited, nearly word for word, a bulleted talking point from my training. But what I’d said was true. Even I had been impressed as I’d learned about the improvements in forensic science.

  He cast a grin over his shoulder. “That’s great.”

  He wedged the door to the apartment building open with his hip and held it for me. I slipped outside into the searing April day. By the time I reached Riley’s sensible sedan, he’d already stowed the suitcases and closed the trunk. He hurried around to the passenger side and opened my door. Only after I was snug inside did he jog around to his side and climb in.

  Had other women sat in this seat since we broke up? Had he opened their door? Made them feel like a million bucks?

  I shook the thoughts from my head. I couldn’t go there. I’d been cheated on so many times that I felt programmed to expect it. Not that Riley would have been cheating because we’d broken up. But still.

  He put the car in reverse, slipped his arm across the seats as he looked behind him, but paused before moving. “You sure you’re ready for this?”

  As a quiver raked through me at his nearness, I realized that was an excellent question.

  CHAPTER 3

  After swallowing hard, I finally nodded and slid on my sunglasses. “I’m always up for an investigation.”

  Riley nodded. “Good.”

  With that, we started down the street, a certain awkwardness setting in between us. There was so much I wanted to ask him, so much I wanted to know. But I didn’t want to jump into my questions. I needed to seem chill. Unaffected. Like anything but what I actually felt inside.

  So I did the next best thing: I asked about the case. I figured I couldn’t go wrong talking about an investigation, and it seemed much safer than any other conversation.

  “So where exactly are we going?” I forced my thoughts to remain focused. I had to refuse to think about the memories this spic-and-span car brought to mind. Not the good-night kisses. Not the wild goose chases. Not the near-death experiences.

  And that pretty much summed up our past relationship.

  “We are headed to a little retreat center in the Chesapeake Bay.”

  “In the bay?”

  He nodded. “It’s on an island.”

  “Even better.” Islands were good, right? I mean, there was Fantasy Island. Gilligan’s Island. That island from the TV show Lost. Or the island where Tom Hanks was stranded in Castaway.

  Just because you were surrounded on all sides by water with no means of escape didn’t mean anything . . . right?

  Besides, Riley seemed so relaxed about it. In fact, he seemed laid-back in general. That realization made me happy because, deep down inside, I wanted the best for him. But it also bothered me because it meant he’d moved on without me. I wished I could honestly say the same.

  “It’s called Love Birds Marriage Retreats. A therapist named Dr. Richard Turner started the program. He takes four couples at a time, and they meet every weekend for six weeks. He says going for a week straight would disrupt life too much and that missing work could also add to marital stress, especially if there’s already tension because of finances.”

  “Are we starting at the beginning?”

  “No, three weeks of the program have already been completed, so we’re coming in right at the middle. Dr. Turner let us in as a favor to the man who owns the island. Brad Thorn has a connection to him and convinced him to pull a few strings.”

  “You said this is a pretty expensive place?” Virginia Beach blurred by on the interstate, a mix of contemporary, vinyl-sided houses and strip malls mixed in with some golf courses and churches.

  “It costs twenty thousand dollars for the entire six weeks.”

  My mouth nearly dropped open. “Wow. That’s major cash. I don’t suppose insurance covers anything.”

  “Not a program like this. That’s why most of the people who attend have quite a bit of money. Dr. Turner also believes that if you pay out the cash to be there, you’re more likely to take the program seriously.”

  I settled back in my seat. “Okay, so you told me all that, and it sounds credible enough. Why is it at the center of a murder investigation?”

  “Brad Thorn and his wife, Anna, were attending. Brad is convinced there’s a connection between her death and those therapy sessions.”

  “Is there any compelling evidence to support that?”

  “We’re meeting with Brad before we go, so hopefully he can tell us. Either way, I think her death is worth looking into.”

  I chewed on what he’d told me so far. “Why the retreat center? Couldn’t Anna have been murdered because of some other aspect of her life? Did she work? Could her death be random? I’m just trying to get a feel for all this.”

  “The police are in agreement with you. They questioned everyone, but also cleared everyone.”

  “Well, I’m intrigued. What’s our cover?” I fully didn’t expect Riley, a good boy through and through, to have thought of that. Deceit didn’t come easily to him. That was why I’d given him the nickname Church Boy when we’d first met.

  Since then, I’d become a bit of a church girl. If not a church girl, then definitely a Jesus follower.

  Despite the harm Riley had done to my heart, he was also the reason my heart had mended in other ways not related to him. He’d shown me Jesus, answered my endless questions about the Bible, and even endured my badgering at times.

  So there was that.

  “I figured we should still go by our first names. Otherwise, it just gets confusing, you know? Last name St. Thomas? Both of our names together, St. Claire and Thomas?”

  “We’re practically a celebrity couple when you put it like that. Watch out Brangelina. It’s Ribby. Or does Giley have a better ring to it?”

  He chuckled. “You still have that sense of humor.”

  Did he think I’d abandoned it when I lost him? I didn’t ask but instead shrugged. “What can I say? Anyway, so when did we get married?”

  “I figured it could be the day we met. September 9 two years ago.”

  He remembered that. Interesting.

  “We can say we met while trying to save a lo
st parrot, just like we really did. The closer we can stay to the truth, the better. Don’t you agree?”

  “Absolutely.” I crossed my arms. “So, are you going to stick with being a lawyer as part of your cover story?”

  “I think that would be best.”

  “And I should be a . . .”

  His lips turned downward. “I think it would be better if you don’t mention a career in forensics. It might put some people on edge, and we want to get them to trust us.”

  It was the reason I often made more progress than the cops. People were more likely to open up to a crime-scene cleaner than someone with a badge. I wasn’t sure about the psychology behind it, but I’d seen it happen time and time again.

  “I can see that viewpoint. So what should I say?”

  He shifted in his seat as we started across the Bay Bridge Tunnel, a twenty-mile span over the Chesapeake Bay. “It would probably be most believable if you said you stayed at home.”

  My eyebrows shot up. “What?”

  He inhaled deeply. “Well, like I said, most of the couples are wealthy. Most of them have husbands who work a lot and make a lot of money. The wives generally stay home and see to the affairs of the house, not to mention shopping, spa dates, and staying current on the social scene. That’s the life most of these people are living. It’s a subculture within itself.”

  Something about how he said it didn’t settle well in my gut. The image that formed in my mind wasn’t pleasant: women who lived lives of luxury, who cared more about the kind of purse they carried than the kinds of kids they raised, and who viewed life as one materialistic pursuit after another. These weren’t my kind of people.

  Maybe I was off base. But I’d worked with my share of wealthy people. I’d seen how many of them operated. Maybe my assumption wasn’t fair, but it was honest.

  “I see.”

  “What kind of ‘I see’ was that?” he asked.

  The sun hit Riley’s side of the car, illuminating his face. I’d practically memorized his features at one time, and now I wanted desperately to unremember all of them. Like how silky his hair felt beneath my fingers. Or what his cheeks felt like when he hadn’t shaved for a day. Or how his hands felt amazingly strong and calloused for someone who sat behind a desk for the majority of his days.

  I shrugged, remembering his question. He could still read me a little too well. I needed to keep that in mind this weekend. “I’m just soaking everything in. Absorbing it. Taking on this new persona that’s so unlike me.”

  “Can’t see yourself as a housewife?”

  “Only as a desperate one.” I flashed a smile, not wanting to go there. “So anyway . . . when someone asks why we’re there, what should we say? What issue has brought us to this point in our marriage?”

  It could have been my imagination, but Riley looked uncomfortable for a moment. He shifted, and his grip tightened around the steering wheel. Was it the long drive on a narrow bridge surrounded by water? Or was it this conversation?

  “I thought we could say that we rushed into our marriage without truly knowing each other and that’s led to problems.”

  I wondered if he was still trying to keep his answers as close to reality as possible. Did he think we’d hurried things before? Did he think we didn’t really know each other when we’d been engaged?

  I didn’t ask the questions. Maybe I didn’t want to know the answers.

  Instead, I looked out over the water. I’d always loved the bay. It was peaceful and significantly calmer than the raging waves in the Atlantic. I stared across the glimmering expanse now, trying to collect my thoughts.

  Several boats cruised the area, some with fishermen clutching long poles and wearing floppy hats. Other boaters were simply enjoying the exceptionally warm spring day. Seagulls soared. Cirrus clouds streaked high overhead.

  For a moment, I felt serenity.

  Then Riley spoke again.

  “So tell me more about this new job you have.”

  I drew in a breath, wondering what exactly I’d gotten myself into by agreeing to his proposal. This was all a bad idea. That simply became clearer and clearer as the car ride continued. But I was such a sucker for both mysteries and for Riley. You might as well slap a wrapper on me and label me a “Cherry Firecracker” lollipop.

  “I’ll be teaching police departments in the region how to use various crime-scene investigation equipment and technology.”

  He stole a glance at me. “Really? Now that sounds perfect for you. How’d you get the job?”

  Garrett Mercer had helped me to get it. I didn’t want to tell Riley that, though. Garrett was the guy I’d kinda sorta started seeing after Riley ditched me. At the moment, Garrett was in Africa helping to dig wells to provide people there with clean water.

  Garrett was a great guy. So why did I feel guilty right now? Garrett and I weren’t really together, and working with Riley for this investigation wasn’t cheating on Garrett.

  Emotions were so confusing at times. Especially when it came to men. Argh.

  “I got the job through various connections,” I finally said, skirting around the exact details. “I can set my own hours based on the workload for the week.”

  “I’m really happy for you, Gabby.”

  Silence fell for a moment. There was a time when it would feel like the most natural thing in the world to reach over and grab Riley’s hand. To stay quiet while we rode because we were comfortable enough with each other that we didn’t always have to fill the silence.

  But right now I was keenly aware of every second that ticked by without conversation. I was unsure what to do with my arms. Crossing them seemed so closed. Keeping them open I felt exposed. When I left my hands in my lap, I fiddled with my fingers.

  This was going to be a long weekend. And maybe one of the biggest tests of my faith yet.

  CHAPTER 4

  Only a few minutes after we exited the Bay Bridge Tunnel, Riley took a left and we pulled into the small town of Cape Charles. Golf carts cruised the old-timey streets, people walked their dogs along the warmly decorated sidewalk, and the bay glimmered in the background.

  “This is where Brad said he would meet us,” Riley said. “Just for a frame of reference: Anna was buried yesterday. This is all fresh still.”

  “Noted.”

  He parked on the street, and we scrambled across the road, dodging golf carts—okay, not really, but the image amused me—until we reached a bistro. A man was seated outside at a wrought-iron table. A colorful, green umbrella perched above him, and cheerful plants lined the sidewalk around the area. Too bad the man looked anything but cheerful. A sweaty glass of iced tea on the table looked like it hadn’t been touched.

  He nodded ever so slightly at Riley as we approached.

  I knew without any introduction that this was Brad. I could see the heartache in his gaze, in the heaviness on his shoulders, in his lackluster expression.

  My heart panged for a moment. I knew what grief was like, and seeing him brought those emotions rushing back. There was nothing I could say to ease his sorrow. Only time would do that.

  Riley extended his arm and, without any fluffy greeting, the two men shook hands. Some kind of silent understanding passed between them.

  “This is Gabby,” Riley said.

  I simply offered a smile and started to sit across from him. Riley nudged my chair out for me before I was fully seated. It was such a simple action, but it always made me feel special. If Riley acted like a big jerk, it would be much easier to dislike him.

  This was Riley’s gig, so I wanted him to take the lead. He knew more of the details and people involved than I did. But I was so used to being the pushy one when it came to investigations that I had trouble remaining quiet.

  “Thanks again for meeting us,” Riley said.

  I leaned back, observing Brad. The man was good-looking. He had thick blond hair with gentle gray strands washed through it. His tan seemed to indicate he liked to be on the water. The cr
ow’s feet around his eyes were white streaks the sun never touched. I imagined him squinting on a boat as it sped across the water after a long day of fishing.

  But he also had an air of distinction about him. It was the way he carried himself, I decided. The expensive texture of his coral-colored golf shirt. The fancy watch on his wrist.

  “Thanks for taking this on.” Brad shifted in his chair. A smile hadn’t touched his lips or eyes since we’d arrived. “I hope you both realize what you’re getting into here. You’re dealing with someone dangerous, someone who’s willing to kill to keep his secrets quiet.”

  A shiver niggled up my spine at his proclamation. Danger. Secrets. Almost dying. It all seemed right up my alley.

  “His?” I asked. I brushed my hair away from my face and pushed my Top Gun-style sunglasses higher on my nose. It was better this way: He couldn’t see my eyes and know I was eyeballing his tea. I’d neglected my lunch in my haste to get ready.

  “Most killers are men, so I feel like that’s a safe bet. However, it’s anyone’s guess at this point.” He raised his palms in the air.

  His observation made it apparent he was well educated and researched. I’d intended to ask Riley what the man did for a living, but I’d forgotten.

  Riley shifted, angling his body away from the sun. “I was hoping you could tell Gabby your side of the story here. It will mean more coming from you.”

  The man’s gaze fell on me. He was scrutinizing me, I realized, and trying to determine whether or not I could be trusted. Trying to ascertain if I was as good as Riley claimed. He finally looked away, no conclusion in his gaze. I supposed I’d have to prove myself. You’d think I’d be an expert on that at this point in my life.

  I mentally cued “Never Surrender” by Skillet. That song had been on my playlist a lot lately. I was confident I could win Brad over. Well, at least 95-percent confident. I’d seen too many people get cocky and fail. It was a delicate balance.

  “My wife, Anna, and I were going to counseling through Love Birds Marriage Retreats,” Brad started, his shoulders rigid and his jaw tight. “This was actually our second time around with Dr. Turner. We thought we were making progress after we went through the sessions the first time. We really wanted to make our marriage work—if for nothing else, for the children’s sakes.”