Thrill Squeaker: A Squeaky Clean Mystery (Squeaky Clean Mysteries Book 11) Read online

  Since Chad’s baby, Reef, was born three months ago, he’d changed from Mr. Carefree to Mr. Responsible—not that he hadn’t been reliable before. I mean, the man had been a mortician at one point in his life. But I supposed fatherhood had simply upped his grown-up factor.

  I shivered again as I walked farther down the trail. Tree limbs grew over the walkway, reminding me of bony, skeletal arms reaching out to form a canopy and lord over anyone who entered the area. Shadows flickered across the footpath with the breeze, and a bird of prey squawked overhead.

  Perfect.

  “There are some more old concession buildings here and some shops,” Nate continued. “I want to turn them into cabins. People will pay big bucks to come and stay here just for the experience.”

  “You think?” I asked.

  He nodded, dead serious. “Absolutely. Do you know how many people have tried to sneak in here and steal parts of this park?”

  “I can’t say I have any idea.” And there was a big difference between breaking in to steal things and paying to come here and stay. I kept that thought silent. I wasn’t a consultant, after all. I was hired to help, to simply follow directions.

  “It’s been a real problem,” he said. “Especially with college students. The fraternities and sororities must get a huge kick out of daring each other to sneak in here. We’ve had severed heads—fake ones, of course—stolen. Signs have been taken. Graffiti has been left. It’s been a real shame.”

  I wondered where Nate had gotten the money to buy this place. Just the land alone had to be expensive. How many acres did this cover? I’d guess at least one hundred.

  As I walked deeper into the woods, the shadows felt overpowering instead of flickering and playful. Giant Bigfoot replicas were staged behind trees and hulked in the background. A rickety bridge, arched in a way that had probably been enchanting at one time, teased of danger in front of us.

  As I reached the center of a bridge, a low, rumbling roar sounded from the forest.

  I gasped and clutched my heart. Visions of Bigfoot crouched beneath the bridge filled my mind. I scrambled to the other side of the crosswalk.

  That was when I heard laughter replace the roar. When I looked up, I saw Nate holding his side.

  “Sorry,” he muttered through his chuckles. “I couldn’t resist.”

  I let out the breath I held. Nate had made that sound. Of course.

  So much for being taken seriously by the man.

  “Very funny,” I mumbled, brushing imaginary dirt from my jeans.

  He grinned. “I thought so. There actually are several sound effects that play from speakers in the woods and under the bridge. You know, wood knocking and heavy footsteps and bloodcurdling screams and ferocious roars—”

  Okay, so he liked adjectives too. I stored that in the back of my mind. “I get it. So this is like a giant haunted house combined with an amusement park.”

  “Exactly.”

  I hadn’t wanted to admit it, but Nate was changing my mind. People loved thrills—from rollercoasters to scary movies to adrenaline-spiking sports. People just might head here to get a rush, to experience a piece of pop-culture history, and have an “experience.”

  “I’m surprised these Bigfoot replicas have lasted out here this long,” I said, glancing at one as we passed. The creature’s fur was matted and gross, he was missing an eye, and one of his teeth was broken. “They’re in pretty good shape, all things considered.”

  “They’re made of cement and covered with hair. Vandals weren’t able to steal them. Believe me—they would have otherwise. I plan on leaving the replicas there. People will be majorly stoked about it. It will be off the chain.”

  “Totally.” I tried to keep the surfer girl inflection from my voice but failed. I loved people and their quirks and idiosyncrasies. People’s unique attributes were what made life interesting.

  I pointed in the distance to another one of the themed areas. “You even left replicas of Bigfoot’s victims in the woods? That’s so . . . tubular. Makes it seem more realistic yet unsettling and frightening.”

  Chad shot me a dirty look, and I grinned. I was just having a little fun, and Nate didn’t seem to notice or mind.

  “Dead bodies?” Nate laughed, but this time a tinge of anxiety curled the edges of the sound. “What are you talking about?”

  I pointed to the body in the distance. “One of Bigfoot’s victims. Right over there.”

  When Nate’s eyes widened, I realized something was wrong. I was trying to get into the spirit of the macabre and twisted. But I could clearly see now that it was a mistake.

  “There are no victims out here. That would be . . . sick.” Nate looked at me like I had no moral compass, which slightly offended me.

  “Then who is that?” Even as I said the words, the truth pounded in my heart. I knew the answer, whether I wanted to admit it or not.

  There was a dead body here. A real one, not a fake one.

  “Looks like our crime-scene cleaning services will come in handy here after all,” I muttered.

  CHAPTER TWO

  T hirty minutes later, the police showed up and surrounded the body of the dead man in the woods. I’d forced myself to step back and let Nate take the lead as the police chief shot off questions about the discovery. I was getting paid to do a job here, one that didn’t include investigating, I reminded myself.

  Before I’d told Chad I could come, he’d emphasized several times the importance of this paycheck. He wasn’t one to normally stress about money, but obviously something had changed. My guess? Fatherhood.

  For that reason, it was better if I kept my distance from this investigation and remained quiet and unassuming.

  I might have—just maybe— taken a quick gander at the scene before the police arrived. I hadn’t been able to resist. The familiar urge of being able to officially solve crimes had gotten the best of me.

  In my past life, I’d been a medical legal death investigator. When I’d lost that job because of budget cuts, I’d floundered for a while. But just recently, I’d been hired by one of the leading producers of crime-scene and forensic equipment. Now I worked part-time for Grayson Technologies, traveling to various police departments in my region in order to train officers and techs how to use the equipment and supplies.

  Without disturbing the body, I’d observed that the dead man was probably in his early twenties. Based on the way he looked—name-brand clothing, expensive watch, neat hair—I’d guessed he was from a fairly wealthy family. I didn’t see any blood, slashes, or bullet holes, which would indicate a violent death. In fact, his face looked relatively peaceful and serene.

  But, somehow, the man had died.

  Had it been from natural causes? I didn’t know. I guessed that the police wouldn’t know either until the medical examiner did an autopsy.

  The only thing that had stirred any interest at the scene was a black leather glove I’d seen lying beside the body. Criminals used gloves like that when they wanted to conceal their prints. Okay, okay—so did businessmen on cold winter days, but criminals were so much more fitting at this moment.

  “What do you think?” Chad asked as we watched the police work.

  We stood away from the scene, near the woods on the opposite side of the path. The trees behind us were entirely too close, and I kept feeling like a branch would reach out at any minute and grab me. Or that a Bigfoot replica would come to life. Or that a killer would nab me, and no one would notice.

  All of this was totally irrational, and I knew this. But that didn’t change my jumpiness or fears. It didn’t help that the sun was already beginning to sink low, casting even more shadows around us. Birds continued to squawk and soar overhead. An occasional small animal scampered over crisp leaves. Even the breeze suddenly felt sharp and angry.

  I shrugged as I continued to stare at the scene in front of me. Chad and I both had enough experience to make educated guesses about what had happened, and Chad was entirely too aware th
at I was, at any given moment, more than happy to share my opinion.

  I rubbed my lips together before diving into my theories. “He’s not dressed like someone who came out here hiking or hunting. It almost looks like he stopped by in-between things on his work schedule, you know? I mean, who wears khakis and loafers into the woods? Maybe he was applying to be one of your subs?”

  “Most of the subs have a background in the coal industry. When the mines shut down around here several years ago, a lot of the unemployed decided to start up businesses.”

  “Why’d the mines close?”

  “Something about the weak coal market and dried up reserves,” Chad said. “I’m not sure that has anything to do with this. But I do know that most miners don’t generally wear khakis and loafers.”

  “Nate said there’s a college around here and that fraternities sneak onto the grounds?”

  Chad nodded. “Yeah, there’s one in Whitehurst.”

  “My guess is that’s where he’s from then. Maybe he’s one of those frat boys.”

  “Good deduction.” Chad shifted, continuing to stare at the scene. “Maybe an animal got to him.”

  I frowned as I thought about his theory. “There’s no blood. Attacks by wild animals are usually messy.”

  “That’s true. There’s really no sign of struggle at all, is there?” He paused and rubbed his chin in thought.

  “Based on rigor, I’d guess he’s been dead less than a day. Besides, any longer than that and wild animals would have gotten to him.”

  “I was thinking the same thing.”

  I frowned as my thoughts went to places I didn’t intend for them to go—places where they could get in trouble. Places where a yearning to investigate would grow in me until it was too big to contain. It had happened before, and I recognized the signs as easily as most people recognized a sneeze coming on.

  “It’s strange.” I rubbed my throat in contemplation. “I didn’t see any other cars out there by the gate when we pulled up. I wonder how he got here and where he got in. Is there a fence around the whole place?”

  “There was a fence around the whole place. Who knows if it’s all still standing? That will have to be addressed at some point.”

  “Probably a good idea.” But that was probably a weeklong task within itself. This would be a challenging job—even more so now.

  Chad crossed his arms and cast a glance at me. “Figures this would happen when you’re here.”

  I shoved my eyebrows together. “What do you mean?”

  “You seem to attract stuff like this.”

  I couldn’t even argue. I had a knack for finding mysteries. “I do, don’t I?”

  “Maybe God really does put you in the right place at the right time.”

  “Some might say the opposite: it’s the wrong place at the wrong time.”

  “All the good you’ve done helping people, I’m going with my original theory.” He sighed. “I wonder how this will change things. Don’t get me wrong—I know our priorities have just shifted here. But we won’t be able to wait around indefinitely before starting to work. I do have to get back to Virginia and other jobs I’ve committed to there.”

  “The police will probably rope off this area, but we’ll be able to conquer the rest of the park. And when I say conquer, I’m not exaggerating. This is one big task.”

  Chad nodded. “But isn’t Nate brilliant? I love this idea. There’s nothing else out there like it.”

  I shrugged, not sure I’d take it that far. I didn’t know what to say. There wasn’t anything out there like this. But this place defined biting off more than you could chew. “I just hope this dead body doesn’t put a damper on his plans.”

  Chad started talking about a game plan for knocking everything out, but my mind kept going back to the body I’d found. All these years of cleaning up after crime scenes, yet dead bodies still affected me. Sure, I’d learned to compartmentalize. Some death scenes affected me more than others. But death was no laughing matter.

  Questions filled my mind. Who was the victim? How had he gotten here? What had his dreams for the future been? Were his loved ones worried right now? Did they even know he was missing? In their guts, did they sense something was wrong?

  Two officers stood near the body while another took pictures. I glanced over as I saw movement in the distance and spotted a middle-aged woman walking toward the scene.

  “Marion Edwards?” I muttered as I soaked in the woman’s short, dark hair and stout build.

  I thought I’d said the name in my head, but I must have voiced it out loud because the woman stopped and turned toward me. Her eyes widened with familiarity.

  “Gabby St. Claire?”

  I mumbled an apology to Chad, who was still yammering about the job, before walking toward Marion. I’d always liked Marion in the few short months I’d worked with her. She’d seemed down-to-earth and friendly.

  I wasn’t sure how to greet her—we weren’t exactly friends, more like acquaintances. But when I saw her outstretched arms, I figured a hug was in order. I was quick on reading body language like that. Yes—that was sarcastic.

  “I never in a million years thought I’d see you here.” She pulled back and stared at me like an aunt might stare at a long-lost niece. “Are you working for the state police now?”

  I shook my head. “I actually work part-time for Grayson Technologies, but I’m not here in an official capacity of any sort. I’m freelancing a construction job.”

  Her eyebrows shot up. “Grayson Tech? I love their products. Top of the line. Well-respected. Innovative.”

  I smiled and nodded. “I agree.”

  “Walk with me,” she instructed.

  Of course, I obeyed. She limped slightly as she traveled down the rickety path. She’d had a bad knee ever since I’d known her and had been through at least two knee replacements, if I remembered correctly.

  “Have you seen the body?” She glanced back at me.

  “I was the one who found him.”

  “Sorry to hear that. At least you had experience enough to know not to touch anything or disturb the scene. That’s half the battle sometimes.” Her breathing was labored as she walked, leaning heavily on her cane.

  “We don’t have very many cases like this around here,” Marion continued. “We have a few hunting accidents every year. Maybe some car crashes and a domestic dispute every now and then.”

  “I didn’t realize you’d moved here.”

  She nodded. “I actually met a man online. We dated long distance for several months, and then I decided to take the plunge.” She shrugged and cast me a lovelorn look. “I’ve been single for fifty years. When you meet a nice man, it causes you to reevaluate where you are in your life.”

  “I had no idea.” I liked hearing about this human side of her. I’d known she was single, but I had no idea that she’d even been looking for love. I’d just assumed she was career oriented and content.

  “I work part-time in private practice and as medical examiner on the side,” she continued. “Truth be told, I like working with the dead best. They’re easier to deal with than the living.”

  “I hear you.” The dead didn’t talk back or argue or trust Dr. Google’s opinion over a medical professional’s. I was not a medical professional, but I’d been around enough to know how it all worked.

  When we reached the body, Marion put a hand on her hip and sighed. “What have we got here, boys?”

  The police chief began filling her in, not sharing anything I didn’t already know. Marion gently pulled back the top of the white sheet draped over the body. She frowned as she stared at the victim’s face.

  “He’s a young one,” she muttered. “Give me a few minutes, and I’ll tell you the approximate time of death.”

  Nate called me over to the walkway as Marion examined the body further. I bypassed the officers and ducked under the yellow crime scene tape to reach him and Chad. The once-exuberant man now seemed pale and jittery ins
tead of carefree and energetic. Anyone would have that reaction after what we’d seen.

  “This might change things, guys,” he whispered. “This isn’t good.”

  I stole a glance at Chad as I braced myself for what he might say next. “What do you mean?”

  “This place was shut down twenty years ago because three people died here,” Nate confessed. “What if that happens again?”

  CHAPTER THREE

  By the time the police left, darkness had arrived, and Mythical Falls felt spookier than ever.

  I drove my car down an old service road in order to reach my cabin in Bigfoot Woods.

  Apparently, Nate had already restored two cabins, and we were all staying in one of those tonight. It would be our temporary residence for the evening. Nate had been sure to mention that the one we were staying in didn’t have any raccoons or other rodents like most of the other buildings here.

  Comforting.

  I pulled my suitcase from my trunk and turned to scan the area. The cabins looked like a row of old prospectors’ residences. Six structures lined the stream behind it, each two stories high and narrow, with rustic-looking wooden porches. Behind the houses, there was supposedly an old mill, complete with a water wheel. From where I stood, I could hear the slight trickle of the stream.

  My gaze traveled across the street to buildings constructed to look like an old town. Chad had mentioned that old carnival games used to be there—everything from the Bottle Ring Toss to Pop the Balloon and Skee Ball.

  As I stood by my car, nature was alive and well around me. In the nearby woods, woodland creatures—I assumed—scampered through the dry underbrush. An owl hooted. Crickets chirped.

  Ordinarily the sounds might be comforting or even intriguing. But, tonight, each noise just reminded me of how alone I was out here.

  I couldn’t wait to get inside. This was not the way I’d intended on starting my stay. I had no idea I’d just accepted a job at the Little Amusement Park of Horrors.