Thrill Squeaker Read online

  “I’m glad you like it.”

  I glanced over to an old tube TV that sat in the corner. Was that where the clerk watched security cameras? I would need to take that to a special recycling center to dispose of it.

  I put my hands on the wood countertop and nodded. “I think we’re done in here, for the most part. Chad wants us to clear this area out and then scrub it down. If I remember correctly, next door was the area where kids could mine for gold and gemstones. I can only imagine what it will look like.”

  “Gemstones?” Clarice raised her eyebrows. “Maybe we’ll find something. A nice big rock we can put on our fingers.”

  “Good luck with that. I did read some of the signs out front. Apparently, a man did find a huge diamond in West Virginia once. I think it’s called the Punch Jones Diamond. I can’t remember the details, but it was something like thirty-four carats. At first he thought it was quartz, and he put it in a cigar box for fourteen years.”

  She reached into her pocket. “Kind of like this one?”

  She threw a rock toward me. I caught it and looked at it a moment. “Looks like quartz.”

  “Well, it’s all yours. Tell Riley to make you a pretty ring out of it. I found it while we were snipe hunting, and I thought it looked interesting.”

  I gave her a half-dirty, half-silly look and shoved the stone in my pocket. It would be a good keepsake, if nothing else. “We better get busy then. I’d hate to put Natey the Greaty behind schedule.”

  Natey the Greaty? I resisted the urge to make a gagging sound.

  As I took a step away, a noise caught my ear and I froze. A bleep. Then static. Then voices.

  I swerved my head behind me.

  The TV came on.

  And there on the screen was an old black-and-white commercial for Mythical Falls. Playing on its own. In a building without electricity.

  I glanced at Clarice.

  Her eyes widened and she screamed.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  “M ythical Falls—a place for fun, scares, and thrills!” an announcer said. “Families come from miles around to experience this unique theme park, deep in the heart of the West Virginia mountains.”

  Riley hovered behind me, staring at the TV screen and the commercial that played there. The announcer’s voice had just the right depth to make him sound ominous and ancient. The smiling faces on the screen seemed a stark contrast to the park’s history.

  “I would have probably run out of here screaming like a girl too,” Riley said.

  I rubbed my arms. “I almost did, but I figured someone had to be the adult.”

  Nate talked in quiet tones to Clarice right outside the window. Was Clarice milking this for all it was worth? Quite possibly. And Nate had fallen for it hook, line, and sinker. He was acting devoted and concerned.

  Maybe the two would make a great match.

  I leaned against the counter to face Riley. “If I didn’t know better, I’d think someone was messing with my head.”

  “I assure you—Braxton is messing with the electrical here at the park. He must have activated the circuit that’s connected with these buildings instead of the cabins. It’s the only thing that makes sense.”

  I nodded. “It’s better than Clarice’s theory—poltergeist.”

  Sure enough, some of the video games that had been plugged in had surged to life also. The timing couldn’t have been more providential.

  Nate’s friend Seamus walked into the room at that moment, and Riley and I moved away from each other. I hadn’t realized how close we were standing until someone else entered the room.

  Later, I needed to think about Clarice’s words. The girl may have had some good points. But realizing the truth of the matter and bending your emotions to match wasn’t always a quick process.

  “Nate wants me to check out these video games,” Seamus said.

  “I think you guys could get some money from them,” I said. “They’re definitely vintage.”

  He stopped by Pac-Man. It appeared to be a favorite here among our crew. “I remember playing this as a child.”

  “Don’t we all?”

  “No, I remember playing this here.”

  Ah, yes. Another person who’d once utilized the theme park. Everyone around here had. Did that mean everyone around here also had a motive of some sort?

  “I heard it was quite the place.” I crossed my arms and leaned against the counter, waiting to hear his stories.

  Seamus nodded, still staring at the Pac-Man screen. “It was. I loved it. My mom used to love it too.”

  “I can see why,” Riley said. “This place had to be a kid’s dream. Especially us boys. We have a tendency to love legends, don’t we? Pirates, Bigfoot, Atlantis, the Bermuda Triangle. Who doesn’t love a good mystery?”

  “Exactly. Mythical Falls was ripe with mysteries.” Seamus seemed to stare beyond us. “I hope Nate’s dreams are realized. Because, as many people who have good memories of this place there are an equal number who have bad memories. Some people have a hard time getting past them.”

  “Exactly!” Those had been my thoughts earlier. Bad memories were hard to get past, whether they were memories of theme park murders . . . or memories of bad luck.

  Riley threw me a strange glance.

  I shrugged, realizing how out-of-the-blue my outburst had been. “I mean, that makes sense.”

  Riley nodded, seeming to accept my explanation.

  Seamus stepped back from the arcade game. “Okay, I have a few people I can call about these. I think I’ve done what I can on the roofs of those cabins. Now, Nate wants me to examine the fence surrounding the property. That’s going to take a while.”

  We nodded and watched him leave. As soon as he exited the building, Nate and Clarice came inside. I noted how Nate’s arm remained around Clarice, and Clarice didn’t seem to mind. In fact, she was eating it up, based on the way her face glowed.

  Nate stared at the TV screen where the commercial repeated over and over. Mythical Falls—a place for fun, scares, and thrills! Families come from miles around to experience this unique theme park, deep in the heart of the West Virginia mountains.

  Then, to make matters worse, a clown act appeared on the screen. A small clown jumped on the back of a larger clown, and they juggled balls in the air together with precision.

  Weird. It was just weird.

  “Yeah, those used to be in the corners and commercials of this place played on repeat,” Nate said. “I haven’t seen that commercial in years. Years. It’s so cool.”

  “You should use it somehow,” Clarice said. “If you do a new ad for this place, you’ve got to incorporate some of the old stuff. People will eat it up.”

  “You’re a pretty smart chick, Clarice. You know that?”

  She glowed. “Thanks.”

  “I’m looking for someone to help me with marketing around here, someone with good ideas and a bubbly personality . . .”

  Her eyes lit. “Really? I could totally see myself doing something like that.”

  “Me too!”

  They stared at each other a moment.

  It looked like Chad would be losing one of his employees soon. At least, he would if Nate had his way.

  And that, at the moment, was the least of my concerns.

  Just then my phone rang. My eyebrows shot up in surprise.

  Reception! I had reception here!

  I wanted to excuse myself before answering, but I knew if I did that, I’d risk losing the call. I looked at the screen.

  It was a number I didn’t recognize, but the area code was West Virginia. I made the executive decision to answer.

  “Is this Gabby St. Claire?” a woman asked.

  “Speaking.”

  “Gabby, this is Gardenia. I’m Caleb Kidwell’s mother. I was hoping I might have a moment of your time.” Her voice sounded soft and wrought with tension.

  I turned my back on the rest of the gang. They didn’t seem to notice. They’d moved on to talkin
g about video games. Riley squeezed my elbow before joining them, affording me some privacy.

  “Of course, you can have a moment. More than that. I’m so sorry for your loss.”

  She sniffled. “Thank you. As you can imagine, this has turned our lives upside down in more than one way. Caleb was our only son.”

  My heart panged with compassion for the woman. I couldn’t imagine. No one should have to go through that.

  I didn’t know what to say that wouldn’t sound trite or clichéd, so thankfully Gardenia continued.

  “I understand you’re good at solving mysteries.”

  I shrugged, as if she could see me. “Some people might say that.”

  “I think you’re being modest. Gabby, I’ll get right to the point. I’d like to hire you to look into what happened. I understand you’re staying on the property, which will afford you a prime opportunity.”

  “I am staying here . . . but it’s because I’ve been hired to help out a friend.”

  “I understand that. I know you have other priorities. But, Gabby, would you look into what happened?” A sob broke her voice. “It’s not that I don’t trust the chief. It’s just that he has so little experience with any of this. I really need a second set of eyes.”

  “I’m not sure how much luck I’ll have here, especially since I’m not privy to the information the police department has collected.” I glanced behind me to see if anyone was listening. How could I tell a grieving mother no? Easy—I couldn’t. “I’ll tell you what, though. I’ll do my best to find some answers. I’ll ask some questions, look around, and see what I can find out.”

  “Oh, Gabby. That’s wonderful. Thank you so much. You can’t even realize how much better this makes me feel. I need justice for my son.”

  “I’ll do my best.” I glanced behind me again. Chad and Nate were now talking. My heart panged.

  I had a lot of obligations, and I felt like I was stretching myself too thin. Would I end up letting everyone down?

  I prayed that wouldn’t be the case.

  * * *

  That night, after we finished working and darkness had fallen, we all roasted hot dogs over the fire. Nate and Clarice talked in low tones beside each other on the small wooden bench near the campfire. All I heard was something along the lines of, “I’m Daphne, Gabby’s Velma, Chad’s Shaggy, and Riley’s Fred.”

  I’m Velma? I refrained from comment.

  Chad continued to look at his list—the same thing he’d been doing since he arrived. He’d apparently called Sierra earlier and little Reef still wasn’t feeling well. She wasn’t sure when they’d get here. Braxton and Seamus had departed for the evening.

  With everyone else occupied, that left Riley and me some semi-private alone time.

  He slid his hand over my back, gently rubbing my tight muscles. “We worked hard today.”

  “Yes, we did.”

  “I was hoping that sometime while we were here, we might have time to talk. Just you and me. We’ve both been so busy lately. We haven’t had any good quality time. Not since . . .”

  “Since we went undercover at that couples’ retreat?” I finished for him.

  He nodded. “So much happened there. I know we talked to Pastor Randy afterward about the ceremony—”

  “You mean our marriage?” I flashed a sad smile.

  “Yes, our wedding.” He let out a soft laugh and looked down. The firelight danced across his face, bathing it in an orange glow. The air smelled wonderful—a mix of smoke and burning cedar logs and Riley’s leathery cologne.

  He was so handsome. Love clutched my heart as I looked at him. I wanted to spend forever with him, but I was so afraid of hoping sometimes. Life had conditioned me to expect the worst. I just need to enjoy the moment, to not dream about the future, to be content in the present.

  “That was crazy, wasn’t it?” I finally said amidst the crackling of the fire. “I still think about our supposed wedding ceremony, and it just makes me shake my head.”

  We’d posed as a married couple, and, during a vow renewal ceremony, we’d been informed we were legally married. Riley and I had both agreed that in God’s eyes we hadn’t committed to each other.

  For a while after that, I’d lain in bed at night and dreamed about what it might be like if Riley and I were really married. And, even though Riley had said he wanted to wait and do it right, I feared he would change his mind.

  It had happened before.

  Our whole relationship had been both simple and complicated at the same time. And I was the queen of ruining these kinds of things. In reality, I was adept at ruining almost anything good in my life. It was a shame.

  My conversation with Clarice fluttered back into my mind. What happened to all that trust in God you’re always talking about? Doesn’t trust mean having faith that whatever happens, God is in control?

  “You’ve seemed a little distant since then,” Riley continued.

  “You think so? I thought we were just busy.” As soon as the words left my mouth, I regretted them. They weren’t the total truth. I mean, we had been busy. On the surface, we had a great relationship.

  But I’d stopped myself from dreaming. From hoping. From becoming too attached.

  And I hadn’t been able to tell him any of that.

  “We have been busy. We’ve had some good times. I mean, we ran that 5k together. We redecorated your apartment. We went to visit my parents.”

  “I bought a new car,” I added.

  “That’s right. You’ve been working a lot. I’ve been establishing myself at this branch of the law office.”

  “Not to mention everything going on at church: small group, serving at the soup kitchen, distributing clothes at the women’s shelter. All those new initiatives have been great.” Perfect things also to fill my time. To help me avoid the conversation where I felt like I had to bear my soul. I’d been there before and done that. When the reactions to doing so weren’t what you expected, it made you more cautious.

  Was I simply justifying my fears? Trying to rationalize my complacency?

  “Anyway, maybe before we leave, we’ll get some quiet time. Talk about us. About our future.”

  I nodded, even though my throat felt tight. “That sounds great, Riley.”

  He kissed my knuckles before narrowing his eyes. “I know I’ve already asked you this, but is everything okay?”

  I nodded again. “Yeah, of course. Why do you ask?”

  “You just don’t seem quite like yourself lately.”

  “I’m fine,” I insisted.

  He squeezed my hand. “Good. I don’t mean to keep badgering you. I know you’ll talk to me if you need to.”

  “Of course.” Guilt pounded at me, though, because I hadn’t talked to him yet.

  I knew that eventually, we were going to have to talk. To really talk. And I was going to have to figure out whether or not I really trusted Riley or not. Whether I was going to be able to risk my heart. To have hope for my future. To allow those dreams of a family and a stable life to invade my thoughts and my soul with such a fervent hope that tears could pop into my eyes.

  In some ways, that thought was more terrifying than a serial killer.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  T he next morning, I pulled to a stop in front of a quaint old building in downtown Whitehurst. I put my car in park and stared at the structure beside me, which had obviously been grand at one time with its cement pillars stretching up three stories high.

  Today, it was the home of Stephens Incorporated’s Whitehurst office. Apparently, when the coal market had gone bust, Scotty Stephens had turned to solar energy. Their corporate office was located here in town.

  This was my workday for Grayson Tech, and I had to head to the next county for a training session. It was part of the stipulation I gave Chad when I agreed to help—he’d been desperate and agreed.

  I’d pulled out my business clothes—and by business I meant a khaki skirt that came to my knees and a golf shir
t with “Grayson Technologies” embroidered on the lapel. I pulled a black trench coat on over it to conceal my company’s name. I wasn’t sure they’d appreciate being associated with my unofficial investigation.

  The timing of this whole trip had worked out perfectly because I’d needed to do some training with a couple of counties up here in West Virginia. I’d get those knocked out while I was in the area. I loved it when things worked out the way I wanted them to.

  Which rarely happened.

  I’d left early so I had extra time to stop here. I probably wouldn’t be lucky enough to catch Scotty Stephens in the office. But I was going to try to at least figure out where the man was.

  A woman with curly brown hair piled high atop her head greeted me in the marble-encased reception area. The building was a former bank, I decided.

  “How can I help you?”

  I offered a winning smile. “I know this is a long shot, but I’m hoping to speak with Scotty Stephens.”

  She gave me a look that clearly said, You know so little, don’t you? “He doesn’t work out of this office, Sweetheart.”

  Sweetheart? It sounded like a southern way of saying “idiot.”

  “How could I get in touch with him then?”

  She fluttered her eyelashes in a way that still made me feel daft. “He’s hard to get up with unless you have an appointment. Can I ask what this is concerning?”

  “The property where Mythical Falls is located.”

  “Mythical Falls?” Her eyebrows shot up. “I see. Maybe you could talk to his son then . . . ?”

  “I’d love to.”

  “One moment please.” She turned away from me, picked up her phone, and mumbled something indiscernible into the mouthpiece. A moment later, she turned around with a wide smile. “Last office down the hallway behind me. Scotty Jr. is waiting for you.”

  I hoped I didn’t end up regretting this. I also hoped I didn’t lose track of time and arrive late for my training seminar.

  Balancing more than one job was a hard gig sometimes.

  As I walked down the hallway, I noted that the place smelled like microwaved meals. The scent, at the moment, wasn’t pleasing.