Christy Barritt - Squeaky Clean 04 - Dirty Deeds (4 page)

This was a part of the give and take of being a couple. Besides, once we got married, I was going to have to get used to this kind of thing. I’d be terrible at it, but I’d have to persevere.

As silence stretched on the trail, I wondered if this would be a good time to tell Riley about my job situation. I just couldn’t seem to open my mouth to do so, however. For just a short period, I’d had a job that matched his: I’d been a professional with a respectable career—a career fit for a lawyer.

Now I was back to cleaning up guts and gore.

I had to tell him the truth, though. I knew Riley would still love me. Despite that, there was a part of me that wondered if he’d be disappointed. There was a part of me that wanted to hold on to the illusion that I’d pushed past all of the obstacles in my life and become the girl everyone had underestimated.

But being dishonest only led to trouble.

I sucked in a deep breath and squeezed his hand. “So, there’s something I’ve been meaning to tell you—”

Before I could finish, a figure darted out into the trail. Clint. Where had he come from? His eyes were wide and dazed, and his breathing was labored as if he’d been running maniacally. “Did you find her?”

Riley shook his head. “No, man. We didn’t pass anyone on the trail. No one else had luck either?”

Clint moaned and put his head in his hands. “No. It’s been four hours now. She was supposed to be back two hours ago.”

“Maybe you should call the police if you’re this worried,” I offered. “They know how to handle situations like this.”

He shook his head. “What is it they say for adults? Don’t they have to be missing for twenty-four hours or something? She could be dead by then.” He moaned and looked to the sky. Strain was obvious in the bulging muscles at his throat and neck.

“Dead?” I mumbled. I’d been trying to take a backseat in this, to not get too involved. But … “You’ve tried her cell phone?”

His head flipped down, and bloodshot eyes met mine. “It goes right to voicemail.”

“Has she ever wandered away like this before?”

“No, never. But she’s not a mountain girl. She’s more of a Macy’s girl. What if she took a wrong turn? Wandered off a path? Hit her head?” He jerked his head back and forth as if he couldn’t stand the thought of it. “What if she needs her inhaler?”

I stepped forward. “Let’s go back to the hotel. Let’s make sure no one else has seen her. Have you checked her room?”

Clint shook his head, the setting sun bathing him in an eerie orange glow. “No, not yet. I mean, I knocked at the door and all, but no one answered. I don’t have a key.”

“We should do that, also,” I told him. “Just in case. Maybe she got back early, turned off her cell, and took a nap.”

Hope lit his eyes. “Now that sounds like something she might do.”

We all began walking back toward the resort together. Clint walked fast enough that I had to hurry to keep up. I could understand his anxiety. I’d be the same way if I thought one of my loved ones was in trouble.

“You seem pretty good at this,” Clint mumbled over his shoulder.

I started to say something when Riley beat me to the punch. “She does work for the Medical Examiner’s Office.”

Guilt pressed in on me. But now didn’t seem like the ideal time to say anything. I mean, we should have the conversation in private. Out of respect for Riley, if nothing else.

Clint glanced back again. “Oh yeah? That seems pretty cool. Dead people and all.” He seemed to realize what he said and shuddered. I wondered if he’d thought about Jackie and what it would be like for her to be laying on a table in a sterile room with strangers examining her most inward parts. It didn’t seem like a very graceful way for life to end. But, I supposed by that point, modesty didn’t matter any more.

We scurried into the lobby of the resort, and Clint took off in a jog toward the elevator. “I’m going to check her room.”

“Do you have a key?”

Clint put the brakes on. “No, who is her roommate again?”

“Gabby,” Riley said.

I was? I was rooming with a girl who was potentially missing. It was like the world was just
begging
me to get involved.

I’d agreed to have a roommate in order to save money, which was the same reason why Riley was rooming with Lane. Derek and Jack the Dipper were staying together, and Lillian was staying with a colleague from work.

Riley slid a key card into my hand. “I didn’t have a chance to give this to you yet. I checked us in when I got here.”

I raised it in the air. “Let’s go.”

Clint repeatedly hit the UP button on the elevator. “Come on, come on, come on!”

Finally, he sprinted toward the broad, winding staircase only a few feet away. Just as everything else in the hotel, the stairs were grand and ornate with velvety red carpet, which was the color of blood.

I’d been around too many crime scenes.

Riley and I looked at each other before sprinting after him. We made it up three flights of stairs—but the place had high ceilings, so these weren’t just normal stairs. The ceilings in this place had to be at least 15 feet high.

I hated to admit it, but I was huffing and puffing by the time I reached room 3412. With a steady hand, I pushed the card into the little slot on the front of the door. The light turned green. I twisted the knob and nudged the door until it swung out.

I stood there a moment staring at the room, waiting to hear a sound indicating someone was there. As of now, all I could see were some high-back chairs and a built-in bookcase.

Clint darted ahead of us. “Jackie? Are you there? Jackie?” He ran from door to door, frantically jerking open each one. I assumed those were closets, a bathroom, and two bedrooms. I’d never stayed in a hotel suite like this one before.

Clint opened the last door and moaned.

Riley and I rushed toward him. I had to blink several times before everything came into focus.

Clothes were littered all over the bed. The TV had been smashed. Cosmetics dotted the floor.

Someone had been in here. Looking for something or trying to send a message? I wasn’t sure.

“Jackie … ” Clint muttered.  He fell back into a chair, almost as if everything overwhelmed him to the point where he couldn’t hold himself up. “What happened?”

I surveyed the room, looking for something—anything—that would give me a clue as to what was going on. Had there been a struggle? My gut told me no.

If you asked me, someone was trying to make a statement.

I stepped over a gutted bag of cosmetics and paused by the dresser. What I saw there made my blood freeze.

“Uh, guys. You’re going to want to see this.”

I pointed to a note left on the wood there.

CHAPTER 4

Clint buried his face. His body language screamed “distressed” as he sat on the couch in the living area of my suite. The rest of Riley’s friends had been called, and now they stood in a semi-circle around Clint.

He raised his head, nearly crumpling the note in his hand. A couple of tears splotched the words. “A ransom note? A ransom note! Why?”

I tiptoed closer and tried to take the note from him before he destroyed any evidence with his tears. Insensitive? Perhaps. But I really only wanted what was best.

I carefully plucked the note from his hand and slid it into a plastic bag that was supposed to be used for laundry. I caught Lillian staring at me like I was stealing tissues from a grieving man.

“There could be prints,” I explained.

Shouldn’t she know that? I was pretty sure lawyers had a grasp on these things. According to Riley, Lillian didn’t let many things get past her.

The note had informed Clint that Jackie had been abducted and that unless a $200,000 ransom was paid, she’d be killed. And, of course, it ended with the infamous warning not to get the police involved.

How many lawyers would it take to figure out the best method of getting her back?

They all discussed their different ideas, talking on a totally different level than me. Apparently, they were talking on a different level than the commoner Clint as well, because he looked equally as perplexed.

I got my first good look at Riley’s friends and quickly assessed them. Derek “Playboy” Waters had a fake tan, highlighted blond hair, and teeth so white I needed sunglasses. He carried himself like he owned the world.

Lillian “The Shark” Berkhead was tall, big boned, and seemed to love power suits. Her blonde hair was cut in a sharp wedge, her eyes small, her lips thin, and her smiles infrequent.

Lane Rosenblum was only a couple of inches taller than my 5’4”. He had an oversized head topped with thick brown hair. Based on how he was dressed tonight, he liked khaki shorts that were too tight and too short to be stylish.

Jack the Dipper looked the most normal of the group. He was as large as a bear, had close-cropped light brown hair, a round face, and hardly said a word.

As everyone else continued to discuss the best way to handle the situation, I leaned closer to Clint. “What they’re saying is that you should call the police, even though the note says not to,” I explained.

Understanding finally settled in his gaze but only for a second. He shook his head. “I can’t do that. I’m not going to do anything to put her in danger. I’ve got to get my hands on that money somehow.”

“How do you plan on doing that?”

He stared at the wall a moment. Finally, he nodded. “I’m going to call her mom. Her mom is loaded, and Jackie is her only daughter. She’ll do whatever she can to get her back.”

Riley pulled away from the other conversation and stepped closer. “I don’t know if that’s a good idea.”

Clint shook his head. “That’s what I’m doing. No one’s going to convince me otherwise. I’ve got to get my girl back.”

Everyone else’s conversation stopped as Clint pulled his phone out and dialed. A moment later, he stepped toward the corner and mumbled something into the mouthpiece. Even from where I stood, I could hear the sobs on the other end of the phone. The sound made a weight press on my chest.

Grief.

I hoped I never became immune to how painful it was. I never wanted to brush off someone else’s hurt simply because I’d seen so much of it. I never wanted the loss of life to not affect me, even when I was acting as a professional.

A moment later, Clint turned back to the group. “Carol’s working on getting the money now. She should be here by mid-morning.”

“When did the note say you needed to leave the cash?” Even as I asked the question, I glanced down at the bag in my hands, the bag where the note now was. I quickly took in the ragged edges of the yellow legal paper. The horizontal lines were blue, the vertical lines pink, and the handwriting probably done with a black marker. The tear on the left side of the page was deeper than the one on the opposite side. I tucked those observations away.

Clint began pacing. “Tomorrow at four. I’m supposed to leave it by the trash can at the overlook near Glass Falls.” He pulled his hand over his face, but his eyes still looked dull; his skin lifeless and pale. “I hope she’s okay. What if … ?”

I squeezed his shoulder. “Sometimes it’s better if you don’t ask yourself those questions. Just hold on to hope.”

He nodded. “You’re probably right. I just don’t know what I’d do without her in my life.” He sucked in a breath and buried his face. “Oh, no.”

I put my hand on his arm. “What is it?”

Clint raised his head. “She didn’t take her inhaler with her. She has asthma, and it can be triggered by stress.” New lines of worry appeared.

My throat got drier. “Are you sure?”

He pulled a small canister out of his pocket. “I’m sure. She asked me to hold it for her. Said it bulked up her pockets, and she wasn’t taking her purse.” He looked at each of us. “Guys, if she has an asthma attack, it’s all over. She’ll never survive.”

***

After everyone else had called it a night, I sat in my bed in a suite that I was supposed to share with a woman who was missing. I leaned against the headboard and let the quiet absorb me for a moment.

Riley had been hesitant to leave me here, in the place where Jackie had stayed and where her abductors had been while leaving the note. His friends had mumbled something about catching up to the twenty-first century, which pretty much meant they thought I should just stay with Riley.

No, that would have been the old me. The new me had standards. As part of those standards, I was going to stay in my room tonight by myself. I’d locked my door and put on the security chain and deadbolt and anything else I could find, just to be safe. I saw no reason for the kidnappers to come back, though.

When Riley had told me good night, he’d echoed his words from earlier.
Remember, you promised not to get involved.
I’d forced a smile and nodded.

Why had I ever made that promise?

I pushed that thought aside, closed my eyes, and reflected on what Clint was probably going through right now. I couldn’t imagine. He had to be beside himself. What had started as his girlfriend going on a walk had turned into a nightmare.

I began developing a timeline in my head—not because I was getting involved. Just because I was curious.

Of course.

According to Clint, Jackie had gone on a walk at 3:30. Riley and I had arrived here at 6:30, which meant she’d been gone three hours. We’d searched for her an hour and gotten back to the hotel by 8:30.

Somewhere in the middle of all of that, someone had gotten into this room and left the note. That left a five-hour window for them to get in, but assuming that Jackie hadn’t been snatched right away, it was more likely a three or four-hour window.

How had someone gotten into the room? Risky move considering someone else could have been here or seen them coming and going.

My gut told me there had to be more than one person involved, just based solely on the note. Someone would have to snatch Jackie and take her somewhere, while someone else wrote the note and left it.

The front desk should have a keycard entry record. If they did, I wondered if they’d give it to me. It was my room, after all. Didn’t I have the right to know?