The Scum of All Fears: Squeaky Clean Mysteries, Book 5 Read online

I shook my head, flabbergasted. “I came over on Saturday when I’d returned from my trip to the mountains to give the family an estimate. Maybe someone followed me then? I have no idea. Believe me. I’ve been turning this over and over in my mind. It makes no sense.”

  “Someone’s trying to get your attention.”

  I crossed my arms. “It’s working.”

  I glanced over at Clarice. She was breathing into a paper bag. If she kept that up much longer, someone was going to call for an ambulance. The poor girl. She really had gotten more than she’d bargained for. On the other hand, she would have some great stories to tell her sorority sisters when school started back up again in a couple of weeks.

  “Be careful,” Detective Adams urged.

  “I wasn’t even trying to stick my nose in this one, Detective.”

  He nodded, his gaze surveying the mayhem around us. The house had been flooded with law enforcement officials and Adams wasn’t missing anything. He always kept one eye on his subject, but his other soaked in everything else going on around him. I’d found him to be competent, reasonable, and even-keeled.

  “I know you weren’t trying to get involved in this one,” he said. “Unusual, but given the nature of the death here, understandable. Someone wants to draw you in. The question is: Why?”

  “Your guess is as good as mine on this one.” I started to walk away but stopped. “What am I going to tell the homeowners? Do you want me to contact them?”

  “I’ll call them and let them know new evidence has come to light. We should be able to clear the scene for you by tomorrow if you want to come back then and finish the job.”

  I nodded. “I know they’re probably anxious to have all of these reminders erased.”

  “Anyone would be. If anything changes, I’ll let you know. Otherwise, plan on being back here in the morning. The crime scene should be released by then.”

  “Got it.”

  I motioned toward the door, and Clarice followed me outside. Humid air enveloped us, but the stifling heat still felt more comforting than the horror infusing the atmosphere inside of that home.

  I paused and looked at Clarice a moment as we stood on the lush green lawn. The sparkle was gone from her eyes. Her skin was pale. Her shoulders sagged.

  I figured this would be a bad time to make a zombie joke. Instead, I said, “You doing okay?”

  She shook her head, silky brown hair swishing against her shoulders. This was soap opera angst at its finest. One day when she got her role as an extra on The Young and the Restless she could tap into these emotions for any especially dramatic scene. “I shouldn’t have peeked into the room.”

  “I told you not to.” But she just had to see.

  Sounded like someone else I knew. Me.

  She fanned her face. Some of that crimson apple lipstick would really serve to brighten her up at the moment. “What now, Gabby?”

  I started walking back toward the van. “Now we head to the next job, which just happens to be the crime scene where we found the first message yesterday. It’s been cleared, so we’re okay to finish the job there.”

  Clarice stopped cold, her face seeming to freeze in place with eyes wide and lips slightly parted. “The next crime scene? What if . . . ?”

  “Adams already sent someone over to check it out first. There shouldn’t be any surprises.”

  She started walking again, a curious glint in her eyes. “Adams? You call the detective by his last name? You are the real deal, aren’t you?”

  I shrugged. “I’m not sure what you mean by the ‘real deal.’ I’ve earned his trust. It’s been a long, hard road, though.”

  “What do you think of those messages being left? That one seemed specifically for you.”

  I guess my name had made that fact clear. I shrugged again, biting my lip before I said anything about being Captain Obvious. “I don’t know. Eerie? Yes. Lacking in creativity? Absolutely.”

  “Lacking in creativity? What do you mean?”

  “Hasn’t the little numbers rhyme thing been done before?”

  Her eyes widened. “Has it? I don’t know. Not on Criminal Minds.”

  I cut my eyes at her but decided not to comment. “I’ve helped put some bad guys behind bars, so I’ve become an easy target, you could say. After that write up on me in a local newspaper, maybe I got too much attention. Attention from the wrong people, at least.”

  The curious glint turned into an all-out sparkle as she grabbed my arm. “You should have a TV show about you. Everyone would watch it. You’re definitely pretty enough to be on TV. The camera would love you.” Her voice went from flat to animated.

  I shook my head as I climbed into my van. “Most people couldn’t handle watching what I do. This is a reality they’d rather forget about.” Crime scenes may look exciting on TV, and people thought they were desensitized. But when a real crime scene involved a loved one, they had a real wake up call. No amount of CSI reruns could prepare one to see that.

  Clarice continued to talk as she climbed inside the van. At least the thought of my possible fame had distracted her from the eerie blood message inside that home. “It would sell. Totally. It would be like Sunshine Cleaning, Real World style. I wonder if I could be an extra . . .”

  I shook my head, ready to be done with this conversation. I had no illusions of fame and fortune. No, I was just happy to pay my bills and help out hurting families hungry for answers. Maybe if other people found justice in their lives, I could find justice in my own life as well.

  I checked my directions and started down the road. The next scene wasn’t too far away. I needed to knock it out and get on my way.

  As I drove, I pondered whether or not crime scene cleaning was in my future permanently. I didn’t know. I’d studied hard to have a career in forensics. It wasn’t my fault the job market had gone south right around the time I’d finally gotten my degree. All the doors here in Virginia had effectively closed. Until someone died or retired, it looked like it was either crime scene cleaning here or taking a job in another state, which would require a move.

  Which brought me back to the fact that I had a Skype interview on Wednesday with the Medical Examiner’s office in Kansas. The opportunity seemed to be a good one. But Kansas . . . it was so far away from Riley and my friends. Did I really have to choose between my dream job and my dream man? That’s what it was starting to feel like, and I resented the possibility of having to make that choice.

  Besides, my dad was here. So was my brother, and we’d just begun to reconnect in the past couple of months. That much distance between me and my only sibling could seriously put a damper on my plans to make up for lost time.

  I shoved those thoughts aside. I wouldn’t stress out about it too much until I found out if the Kansas State Medical Examiner’s Office was offering me a job. That’s when I could have a little mini-crisis about what to do.

  We pulled up to the next crime scene. A police cruiser waited in the driveway. I told Clarice to wait in the van, and I hopped out. An officer who looked so young he had to be a rookie stepped out.

  “Even though you were just here yesterday, I’m going to walk through the house with you first. Those were my orders from above.” He stood stiffly with his chin raised and a serious look in his eyes.

  “Let’s go then.” Though I knew the scene had been cleared, I braced myself for any messages that would be a shock to my system.

  Thankfully, everything appeared clear.

  After the officer pulled away, I went through my normal routine of hauling things out of my van. Apprehension dug its claws between my shoulders, though. Even though the officer had said the scene was clear, I had a hard time believing it. I half expected to find another message waiting for me there.

  One, Two. I’m Coming for You.

  Three, Four. I’m Hungry for More.

  Gabby St. Claire, are you ready for gore?

  The messages were eerie, that was for sure.

  Someone was taunting th
e police and me. Had the same person killed both of the people at the two crime scenes I’d cleaned? That’s the only way they could have left those messages. Yet, the facts of the cases were so different. The homes were unalike, the motives were distinctive, and the means of death weren’t the same.

  I shook my head. I had no idea right now. Maybe things would come to light. Or, better yet, maybe this was some kind of sick joke. Maybe the sicko behind the messages would decide to let this drop.

  I had the feeling that wouldn’t be the case, though.

  I got to cleaning, desperate to take my mind off my problems and concentrate on someone else’s.

  A grim reality but reality none-the-less.

  ***

  Riley was working late, and I didn’t feel like going back to my apartment after I dropped Clarice off at her car. Instead, I swung by to talk to Sharon. She was actually seated at a table reading the newspaper when I walked in. Her other employees were manning the register.

  Before she even spotted me, I slid into the seat across from her. She nudged down the paper and frowned when she saw me. Immediately, she jerked the paper back up to conceal her face.

  “Feeling guilty?” I asked.

  She sighed and pushed the paper onto the table. “How’s Clarice doing on the job?”

  I shrugged. “I’m counting down the days until Chad gets back, if that tells you anything.”

  “She’s a bit of a dingbat. She drives my sister crazy. She’s the one who, once when she heard her car making a funny noise, turned up the radio so she wouldn’t have to hear it. It turned out the engine was leaking oil and was totally ruined. It cost my sister thousands of dollars in repair bills.”

  “I kind of like that actually. Just turn up the radio. Ignore the noise, the worries of life.”

  “Or the warning signs,” Sharon said. She straightened. “Not to change the subject, but how are you doing? How are the wedding preparations coming?”

  “I need to make a checklist. I’ve got the church reserved, though. Still have to order invitations and all of that stuff.” I remembered my dwindling checking account and frowned.

  “What’s going on with the job situation?”

  “I have an interview with Kansas on Wednesday.” In an amazing turn of events, the barista set a latte in front of me. I loved this place. It was like they could read my mind. I muttered, “Thank you.”

  She straightened. “Kansas? Really? That’s exciting.”

  “I doubt I’ll take it.”

  “Why wouldn’t you?”

  I shrugged again. “My life is here. Riley is here. I don’t know if I want to leave all of that behind.”

  “You shouldn’t give up your career for a guy, Gabby. Respect yourself more than that.”

  Sharon’s words felt like a slap in the face. Of course I respected myself. The issue here was a little more complicated. I took a long sip of my iced latte before speaking.

  “I’m not giving up my career,” I finally said. “I’m just trying to make some decisions about my future.”

  She raised a pierced eyebrow. “It sounds like you’re not even seriously considering that job in Kansas, all because of Riley.”

  I straightened, trying not to let my voice go all high-pitched. No, I wasn’t going to get flustered by this misunderstanding. “For starters, the job hasn’t even been offered to me. My interview is coming up this week. And, for the second thing, it’s not just because of Riley that I’m considering staying, but he is my fiancé, so of course he plays into this decision.”

  She leaned toward me. “Don’t set it up so that he thinks his career is more important than yours. If you don’t go to Kansas, that’s what you’re saying. You’re going to have a lifetime of being less important than he is.”

  I sighed, frustration close to winning out over being sensible. “You know Riley. You know he’s not like that.”

  She stared at me, dead serious. “All guys are like that.”

  Wow, I’d known Sharon how long now? I had no idea she’d react like this when I told her I had a job interview in Kansas.

  “We’ll have to agree to disagree then.” I desperately needed to change the subject before Sharon planted any negative thoughts in my head. I knew Riley. I knew he wasn’t that guy. I stood and stretched. “You know what? I’m tired. I should be running.”

  “Think about what I said, Gabby.”

  I nodded, but I had no intentions of thinking about something that wasn’t true.

  ***

  By the time I got home that evening, I was bone tired. Not only had the scenes been physically grueling to clean, but the emotional toll the threats had taken on me was bigger than I wanted to admit. Then there was the conversation with Sharon that I’d rather forget. Yet it continued to echo in my mind.

  I was ready for a long, hot bath and a re-run of Psych.

  I dropped my purse by the couch and started toward my bedroom. I stopped mid-step by my desk, which was located against the wall in the Great Room, and stared down at the mess there. A mess I’d left, and an organized one at that.

  Why did I feel like something had been moved?

  I glanced over the papers, folders, and sticky notes cluttering the top. There was my new laptop. I’d bought it only a month or so ago. It was the first thing I’d purchased when I got my job with the medical examiner. Little did I know then what I knew now.

  There was also an old Slim Jim canister that I’d covered in crime scene tape that held my pens and some spare change. My diploma hung on the wall above it, along with a framed copy of the newspaper article about me. Then there was a picture of Riley and me at my college graduation. My filing cabinet was overstuffed with business invoices, purchase order forms, and receipts.

  Nothing appeared to be out of place. So why did I feel so unsettled?

  I sat down for a moment and stared, trying to pinpoint the origin of my unease.

  I picked up a couple of papers on top. Just some bills. Underneath that was . . . a list of my clients that I’d printed out.

  Bringing the paper up closer to my eyes, I focused on the words. This week had ended up being so busy that I printed out the addresses of all my job sites, as well as my schedule for cleaning their homes, just so I could keep everything straight and organized.

  Someone couldn’t have . . .

  I shook my head. No. No one saw this list. No one got an idea on how to leave me messages at crime scenes based on this paper.

  Then Riley’s words came back to me. No one ever knew how Milton Jones got in and out of the homes. It was still a mystery to this day.

  What if he’d gotten into my apartment without leaving a trace?

  I shook my head again, feeling like I’d taken a crazy pill. Milton Jones had not gotten into my house. He was in California. Hiding.

  That woman who’d disappeared last night had been taken by someone else. It was a tragic coincidence, but a coincidence all the same.

  A deranged serial killer was not after me.

  He was not leaving messages for me at crime scenes in some kind of vast conspiracy to get revenge on Riley.

  I refused to believe that.

  But if I refused to believe it, then why was I having second thoughts about my bath? Why did I have the strange urge to call Riley and see if I could hang out at his place for a while . . . like until Jones was back behind bars? Even being with Clarice would be better than being in my apartment alone at the moment.

  Just then, someone pounded at my door.

  I grabbed my butcher knife and tried desperately to formulate a plan of action.

  CHAPTER 6

  “Gabby? Are you there?” someone called from the hallway.

  My hand—the one without the knife—went over my heart. Riley. It was just Riley.

  I put the knife down before calmly walking to the door, unlocking all four locks, and pulling the door open.

  I had to stop myself from falling into Riley’s arms like a damsel in distress. No, I was a da
msel who’d charge my way into trouble and fight for myself. But even tough damsels sometimes wanted to be cared for and protected, even if we didn’t want to admit it.

  Riley wrapped his arms around me as soon as I opened the door. I didn’t argue, but instead nestled my head into his chest. My heart still drummed a beat steady enough for a prisoner to walk to his death by.

  “What’s wrong?” Riley pulled back until he could see my eyes.

  I rubbed my temple, wondering just how crazy I was about to sound. So, instead of sounding crazy, I went with a more watered down version of why I was jumpy. “My crime scenes are playing with my head.”

  “Maybe you should stay with someone tonight,” he suggested. “Doesn’t Sharon have an extra room?”

  “I’ll be fine.” I walked to the couch, Riley following behind. I couldn’t handle talking to Sharon any more tonight.

  “Staying with someone would just be a safety precaution.” He lowered himself beside me. “It wouldn’t be a wimpy thing to do.”

  “You know me too well.” I hated appearing weak.

  “Sometimes you have to swallow your pride.”

  Pride did come before a fall. I sure didn’t want my fall to be at the hands of Milton Jones. “I’ll double check my windows.”

  Riley’s tie had been loosened and, again, his sleeves were rolled up and the top two buttons of his shirt undone. Catching up on work after being away for a week had obviously exhausted him. Starting your own law practice could exhaust anyone, or so I’d heard.

  I filled him in on my day, leaving out my suspicion that someone had riffled through the papers on my desk. I couldn’t confirm it; all I had was a hunch. Science wasn’t about instinct, though I was never one to dismiss gut feelings. If I told Riley my theory, he’d have the cops over here. I stuck with the eerie crime scene message instead.

  Riley loosened his tie even more. “Those messages don’t fit Jones’ M.O. He was too meticulous, too careful.”

  “If it’s not Jones—and I don’t believe it is—that would mean we have two psychos on our hands. One is hard enough to handle.”

  “Jones is gone, Gabby. No one knows where he escaped. In this day and age where everything is on video, he’s vanished. I wouldn’t put anything past him.”