The Scum of All Fears: Squeaky Clean Mysteries, Book 5 (13 page)

CHAPTER
17

Since we were short on time and Riley had left his computer at work, w
e all gathered around my laptop in my apartment. My home-sweet-home now gave me chills every time I stepped foot inside it. Watching this video of myself right now did nothing to make me feel better.

I suppose we could have gone to Riley’s, but I was trying to push through this whole fear thing. Still, I wasn’t ready to sleep here alone any time soon, not with Milton Jones acting like he could come and go as he pleased.

What really interested me, way more than watching myself clean and spray Luminol and call the police, was the video that Clarice had obtained after the police got there. We were standing out on the lawn, waiting to hear what our next step was.

I watched all of the people in the background, looking for a sign of someone out of place. Of course, there were neighbors. Neighbors always showe
d up when emergency vehicles appeared. Out of care and concern or nosiness? You could never be certain. Most likely, it was a mix of both.

Police tape cordoned off the first house. An officer stood guard at the front door.
I stood in front of Clarice, looking slightly ticked off with my hands on my hips. At that point, I’d stripped out of my Hazmat suit. It had been too hot outside to keep it on.

There was Officer Newell
standing in the background. I pointed to the screen. “Go back some.”

Colin scrolled backward. I leaned closer to the screen. “It almost looks like he has his cell phone out taking pictures, doesn’t it?”

“It looks like he’s taking pictures of you,” Riley mumbled. His hands were in fists.

“That would have been the day that someone took a picture of me and Claric
e and left it in the house,” I realized.

Officer
Newell as the accomplice? I’d never even considered it. Not until now.

He could have leaked the information about Milton Jones sneaking into my apartment, though. In fact, he could have let
Jones into the building, all while under the guise of guarding me.

Fury began to burn in me. I knew there were nasty people in this world. I just really hated it when people who were supposed to be the good guys turned out to be dirty.

I had to talk to Detective Adams. Maybe even Parker.

And I had to do it now.

But before I could reach my phone, someone knocked at my door.

I looked up just as the door swung open. Someone was letting himself or herself into my apartment.

My stomach sank when I saw Officer Newell standing there, a strange glint in his eyes.

CHAPTER
18

“Everything okay in here?”
Officer Newell asked.

I nodded, all of my muscles suddenly tight.
Casual, I reminded myself. Look casual. “Just fine, Officer Newbie—I mean, Newell. Why? Something strange going on outside?”

He scowled at my mess up.
“No, everything appears fine. I just wanted to make sure you guys were okay up here.” He stepped closer, his eyes narrowed suspiciously. “What are you watching?”

I stood, making sure I concealed the computer screen. “Nothing. Nothing at all. Just some silly YouTube videos.”

“That didn’t look like a YouTube video.” His hands went to his hips, and he engaged fully in cop mode.

Riley stood. “Look
, you were assigned to watch us, not to butt into our business.”

Offic
er Newell took a step back, his lips pulling down in a frown. We’d ticked him off. Offended him maybe.

I just hoped he didn’t break into a murderous rampage.
I had to call Adams. I decided to use one of Clarice’s tactics. “If you’ll excuse me a moment. I need to tinkle.”

Officer
Newell’s lips pulled back in disgust. “TMI.”

I didn’t take time to look back. Riley could handle himself here. I slipped inside the bathroom and pulled out my phone. I quickly dialed Adams’ number and explained everything to him.

Before I hung up, I heard voices rising from the next room.

“Hurry!” I pleaded.

I walked back into the living room in time to see Officer Newell draw his gun on Riley and Colin.

“I have a feeling you’re both impeding a police investigation,” he said. His hand shook.

I stepped forward cautiously. “This isn’t a good idea, Newell.”

Newell
swung his arms toward me. Sweat poured down his forehead. “You don’t know what you’re doing.”

“You should put the gun down. Don’t do anything rash.”

The front door flew open. Tim, my brother, barged into the house. “I saw the lights on and thought—” he started.

His entrance gave
Riley the opportunity to tackle Newell.

A gun fired.
A struggle ensued. Limbs blended with limbs.

I couldn’t tell who was who, or what was what.

Tim just stood at the doorway with a blank look on his face, an open target for any stray bullets.

“Get down!” I yelled.

He ducked to the floor. Colin jumped into the action, trying to wrestle the gun from the cop. Finally, the weapon slipped from Newell’s fingers and onto the floor.

Riley kicked
Newell’s gun away. It skittered across the ground, and I grabbed it. I aimed it at Newell. I didn’t trust him to handle this situation anymore than I’d trust a housewife to properly clean a crime scene.

Now we just had to wait until Detective Adams arrived.

“This is so far out,” Tim muttered, grabbing an orange from the breakfast bar. “I have the coolest big sister ever.”

He wouldn’t
be thinking that if he ended up in jail because of me, I told myself. But at least we’d all be alive.

I wondered if they served oranges in prison.

**
*

Detective Adams and Parker had both shown up. They’d taken the gun, Officer Newell had muttered that they should arrest us, we’d muttered that they should arrest him, and Adams and Parker both looked equally as confused.

“What just happened?” Parker asked. He
wore his ticked off look. He had many looks. Most of them weren’t friendly.

I pointed to the rookie. “
Newell is helping Milton Jones.”

Newell
’s mouth gaped. “Helping Milton Jones? Why in the world would you think that?”

“You took the pictures that Jones left in my house.”

“You’re out of your mind.” His voice rose.

“We’ve got the proof of it right here.” I pointed to the computer.

Colin pulled up the scene. Parker and Adams both looked at Newell.

“Care to explain yourself?” Parker asked.

Newell’s face reddened. “It’s not what it looks like.”

“That’s what they always say.”
I stared at him.

Newell
shook his head. “I was just trying to remember everything from the crime scene. I keep flubbing up, and I knew I’d be questioned about what had happened. I wanted to keep a clear picture of everything in my mind. So I pretended to talk in my phone, but I was taking pictures.”

I crossed my arms. “Likely story.”

Newell raised his hands. “It’s the truth. I swear. You all know I’m a rookie. I can’t afford to make more mistakes.”

“Then why did you pull a gun on the people you’re supposed to be protecting?”
Parker asked.

That’s when
Newell turned on us. “I could tell they were up to no good. They wouldn’t tell me what they were doing. They were impeding a police investigation! I knew I had to take them in, but they weren’t listening.”

Adams scoffed. “This is a mess. Would you guys like to tell me what you were doing?”

I filled him in. He grunted. Shook his head. Gave me “the look” that a father might give a daughter who’d made an unwise decision.

The police escorted
Colin out of the house. They’d take him down to the station to be questioned more fully. I hated to admit it, but I felt sorry for the kid. His brain cells hadn’t quite developed enough for his own good. He really hadn’t thought things through in his quest for fame, and now he was going to have to learn that lesson the hard way.

In the meantime, Adams and Parker had reviewed the tape and sent the link back to police headquarters where their video
experts would examine it. Before that, I’d copied the video to my hard drive.

I didn’t have very many clues to go on in this case, so I wanted to hold on to everything I could.

As the police wrapped up their time in my oven-like apartment, the Bible verse from Psalm 91 echoed through my mind.

Surely he will save you
from the fowler’s snare and from the deadly pestilence . . .
You will not fear the terror of night, nor the arrow that flies by day,
nor the pestilence that stalks in the darkness, nor the plague that destroys at midday.
A thousand may fall at your side, ten thousand at your right hand, but it will not come near you.

Lord, please protect us now, I prayed. Please protect us now.

I glanced at Tim,
who ever since he’d gotten here hadn’t left my kitchen. He’d eaten my grapes, my crackers, and half a loaf of bread. He was what was called a “freegan.” He only believed in eating free foods, often leftover from restaurants or even in dumpsters.

Right now, apparently my kitchen also constituted
“free.” I didn’t care. I thought he was weird, but he was my brother and he’d been out of my life for a long time. I was just happy to have him back now.

“That was seriously whacked,” he
mumbled, eating another cracker.

Crumbs
launched toward me with each word, and I wiped my face. “Tell me about it.”

“Do I want to know?”
He stuffed another carbohydrate-delight into his mouth and stared at me. He had a long, grotesque beard that was capturing all kinds of food. He wore plastic framed glasses that were too big and kept sliding to the end of his nose. He was tall, lanky, and had hair escaping from every possible route beneath his clothing.

I shook my head. “Not really.”

“Oh, that’s good. For a minute, I thought you were going to tell me you were somehow involved with that Scum River Killer guy.” He chuckled and another spray of crumbs filled the air.

I offered a feeble smile. “That would be crazy, huh?”

I wiped my forehead. It was hot in here. Why we were all still in my apartment was beyond me. It was like a sauna, and we’d probably all lost a couple of pounds from the heat.

I glanced at Riley. He sat on the couch with his head back and his eyes closed. I knew that look. He was processing all of this. I knew he wanted to talk, but that was hard to do with Tim here.

I was the one who’d been watching my brother when he was kidnapped many years ago, and I still carried a guilt complex. I couldn’t exactly ask him to leave, even though there were uncountable pressing issues at hand. “What are you doing here anyway?”

“I thought I’d see if I could crash here
tonight.”

He’d been living with my dad. Apparently, free housing was also a plus when you were a freegan.
Of course, when I’d been in the hospital a few months ago after being assaulted, Tim had stayed with me. How could I say no? “I guess if you want to suffer through no AC you can. Why?”

“Dad snores. Did you know that? I need some serious sleep.”

“Fine then.”

Riley
opened his eyes. “Why don’t you go crash at my apartment? The AC is fine there, and I have an extra bedroom.”

“You’d
let me do that?” Tim asked.

Riley nodded. “
Of course. You’ll be my brother-in-law one day. We’re practically family already.”

Riley really tried to accept people. I knew he did. But Tim was a stretch for him. Someone who didn’t work, who didn’t buy anything, and who didn’t even care was everything that Riley was not.
Riley believed in hard work, making a way for yourself, and being responsible.

Tim thought he was being responsible and being
a freegan was his way of saving the world. Life was so tricky sometimes.

Riley walked Tim
across the hall to his apartment, got him settled in, and then came back.

“That was nice of you.”
I brushed a kiss on his lips.

“It’s the
least I can do.”

Riley leaned closer, exhaustion written into the lines of his face.
“I never asked you how your interview went today.”

I shrugged. “It was okay. Good, I guess. I won
’t know anything until Monday.”

“I’m sure you nailed it.”
He grabbed an orange—it was a couple of weeks old, so I hoped it was still good—and turned toward the counter to peel it.

I crossed my arms, trying not to be too “girly” and read too much into things.
“You seem awfully anxious for me to get a job in another state.”

“It’s not like that. I’m torn between wanting what’s best for you and wanting what’s best for me.”
He still faced away, peel curling toward the kitchen sink.

“What’s best for you?”
My throat felt tight.

He turned around
, a half peeled orange in his hands and tenderness in his eyes. “Having you right here.”

“And for me?”
My words came out just above a whisper.

“I just want you to be happy.”
He squeezed my arms.

“
Maybe I can’t be happy if my dream job takes me away from you. What would we do when we got married?” Why was I almost tearing up over this? Where was all of my “I am woman, hear me roar” bravado?

Maybe
Riley was my kryptonite. He made me weak. He opened up places of vulnerability in my life. I supposed those were the chances you had to take in a relationship, though. Or was Sharon right? Was I willing to give up too much for Riley? If I stayed here for Riley, would I be setting the precedent that Riley’s career was more important than mine?

“I guess I’d have to move out to Kansas.”
Based on the grim lines on his face, I’d guess he wasn’t thrilled with the idea. But at least he was open to it . . . kind of.

I
stepped closer and gripped the front of his shirt. A fresh, orange scent rose between us. “You would do that for me?”

“If
that’s what I had to do.”

“But your law practice is here.”
I still wasn’t convinced that he was onboard. Nothing sounded affirmative. It was all “I guess,” “maybe,” “I suppose.” Still, what did I expect from him?

“It’s not where yo
u are, but it’s who you’re with, right?”

I tucked my head into the nook between
Riley’s head and shoulder. I wished I didn’t have to make these choices. I still had some time. But, if the job in Kansas fell through, then what? Would I apply for positions with the medical examiner’s office in other states? If not medical examiners, then I could apply to be a forensic investigator somewhere.

No
job openings were here in this area. Believe me, I’d exhausted every possibility. Everyone wanted to hold on to whatever job they had.

So I had to make a choice between using my degree in a respectable career
and moving, or continuing to be a crime scene cleaner, something that wasn’t nearly as glamorous, and staying here. Crime scene cleaning was hard work, but rewarding. It paid the bills, and I set my own hours. But it wasn’t what I’d dreamed about for my entire life.

He still held me.
“What are you thinking about?”

I didn’t
want to talk about my job situation now. I’d probably talked that to death. I’d
thought
it to death, at least.

Instead, I turned my mind onto more pressing matters.

On Milton Jones.

The Scum River Killer.

On finding Clarice.

“I’m thinking I need to talk to that dentist first thing in the morning.”