The Scum of All Fears: Squeaky Clean Mysteries, Book 5 (9 page)

CHAPTER
10

I wanted to scream. My mouth was muffled.

I wanted to run. But I was trapped.

I wanted to fight. My limbs felt frozen.

Jones leaned down until I could feel his breath on my cheek. An odd, earthy smell spread like a vapor into my nostrils. He said nothing for a minute.

All I could hear was his breathing. There were no other sounds. Not the AC blowing. Not rowdy college kids out walking the streets. No
t annoying dogs barking at nothing.

Just Milton Jones.

Just my heart beating erratically.

I soaked in Jones’ features. His hair was short, shaved close to his head. He didn’t wear glasses this time or a weird trucker’s hat. No, Milton Jones looked like any good neighbor you could imagine having.

That thought made him even scarier.

“Hello, Gabby,” he finally said.

Something about his voice ignited something in me. I began thrashing. I jerked myself back and forth, trying to get away. It was useless. The man probably weighed twice as much as me, and I had no leverage.

The gun.

I strained to reach my nightstand, tried to figure out a way to grab my weapon. Tried to conjure a way to grasp my phone. To scream. To do something!

He pressed down so hard that my teeth ached from the pressure. His hand smelled dirty. It felt calloused. It made i
t hard for me to get my breath.

“You mean the world to Riley, don’t you?” he whispered.
His eyes were wide, crazed, too excited.

A sickly feeling trickled down my spine.

“He’s going to pay, you know.”

I stared up at him. The man looked truly evil. His eyes
appeared absent of a soul. He delighted in fear. That made him a monster.

But there was more. There was vengeance in the depth of hi
s gaze. That made him even worse than a monster.

“Give him a message for me.
Getting even will never be as fun. Understand?”

I continued to stare.

“Understand?” He pressed on my mouth so hard I thought my teeth would break off.

Finally, I nodded. The intensity left his eyes
, and he smiled. “Good girl.” His finger traced my jaw line. “You’re a pretty one. It’s too bad you’re going to have to die.”

Fear rushed through me, causing my body to ache.

I had to think, and I had to think quickly. He could kill me. I was powerless. Immobilized. Those were two things I hated being reduced to.

Despite that,
I waited for him to pull out a knife, a gun, and to carry out his threat.

Instead, he slipped off me and
slithered out the door.

I laid there for a moment, my heart pounding, the air barely reaching my lungs.

Then I came to my senses.

I lunged
from my bed, grabbed the gun from my nightstand, and my phone from under my pillow. I darted through the hallway just in time to see Milton Jones disappear from my Great Room window.

He wasn’t going
to get away that easily. Oh no. Not when my nightmares could end right here and now.

I shoved the gun i
nto my waistband and dialed 911, never easing from the chase. I climbed out the window and onto my fire escape. Below, I saw Jones reach the ground with a thump.

I explained to the operator who I was and what had happened.
Hopefully she’d alert the officer outside of my apartment.

Just then,
I stepped on a piece of glass and yelped. I’d had no time to grab my shoes. I ignored the pain and continued down the stairs. They squeaked and groaned with each step.

I reached the
last landing and jumped down to the grass. I winced when my foot hit the ground. I hobbled forward, desperate to keep moving.

Jones headed toward the street.

I snatched the gun from my waist. I stared at Jones. There was no way I could catch him, not with the way my foot was screaming with pain. Not with the roots and gumballs and pinecones that stretched between the serial killer and me.

I aimed the gun. I didn’t have time to think about legalities and being arrested or if I knew what I was doing.
I pointed the barrel of the gun toward Jones.

The metal shook in my hand. My finger ached on the trigger.

Pull it, Gabby. Just pull it!

My finger wouldn’t budge, though.

Jones threw me a glance, almost taunting me, like he knew I couldn’t take another life. Then he jumped into a white sedan, and the car squealed down the street.

Someone else had been driving.
Jones
was
working with someone. My suspicions were confirmed.

But was that person just a dr
iver or was this person involved with his murderous scheme as well?

***

Officer Newell rounded the building. I pointed to the sedan zooming down the road. “Jones. Getting away. Go!”

He nodded and took off.

Riley appeared the next second. He grasped my arms, his gaze intense. “Are you okay? What happened?”

I pointed in the distance, not caring about my
aching foot at the moment. “That was Milton Jones.”

He took the gun from my hands
, his eyes wide and his lips parted. “When did you get a gun?”

My hands trembled as reality hit fast.
Milton Jones had been in my apartment. Should I have pulled the trigger and ended this whole nightmare? If someone died at his hands, would their blood be on me?

“Gabby?”

I shook my head, trying to get a handle on the large, overwhelming emotions that fought to overtake me. I suddenly knew what Nichole had felt like when she’d awoken in the middle of the night.

She’d been terrified.

More terrified than any scary movie could ever prepare you for.

More terrified than you could imagine in your worst nightmares.

More terrified than any person ever should be.

Riley pulled me into his arms. He stroked my hair. Rocked me back and forth.

He mumbled things I couldn’t understand, but I was pretty sure they were something like, “It’s going to be okay,” “I’m so sorry,” and “You have cheesy toes.”

Okay, maybe not the cheesy toe
s one. I hoped not.

My heart still raced as the reality of what had almost just happened settled in.

Jones could have killed me if he’d wanted to. But that hadn’t been his plan. No, he wanted to send a message. He wanted to send fear.

People like that wanted to have a certain amount of control in people’s lives. Simply killing me would have been too easy; it wouldn’t have been as much fun as making me c
onstantly look over my shoulder, wondering when he’d strike. Wondering what he would do.

He wasn’t going to win, though. I was going to prove myself stronger than any of his threats, if it was the last thing I did.

That’s right. “Girl on Fire” would be my theme song. When I got tired of that tune, I’d turn up “Eye of the Tiger” and start practicing some boxing moves Rocky Balboa style.

Because I wasn’t going down without a fight.

***

A team of investigators had shown up and was
now meeting in Riley’s apartment. The small space seemed to be becoming an unofficial headquarters for this investigation. It was a good thing Riley always kept it nice and tidy.

Still, my chest felt tight and my thoughts were heavy.
Milton Jones had gotten away. I’d desperately hoped that the officer had gotten a license plate number, at least. But he hadn’t.

We were no closer now than we were two days ago.
I should have pulled that trigger.

Detective Adams and
L.A. Detective Dale Warren wanted me to review what had happened with them again. Riley stayed beside me, holding my hand, squeezing it every so often. My foot, now bandaged with no serious injuries, was propped on the coffee table.

Halfway through my recounting of what had happened, Parker showed up
. Of course.

I’d known there was a great possibility tha
t the feds would be called in. Out of the agents who worked at the local FBI field office, why did it always have to be Parker who showed up when I was in trouble?

“I’m a local
liaison for the task force,” he told me. “Why is it that every big case I get to work, you’re somehow involved with it?”

“That’s an excellent question. I promise that this time, I was minding my own business when trouble found me.”

He nodded. “I see.”

He totally wasn’t convinced. I could see it in his eyes.

Parker and I had an interesting relationship, much of it built on the infamous love/hate emotions. We either got along swimmingly or like cats and dogs. He looked like Brad Pitt, so when we’d first met I’d been willing to overlook his arrogance. But relationships built solely on physical attraction never went anywhere.

Riley extended his hand and offered a cordial greeting to Parker. I wasn’t sure if it was simply my imagination—maybe I was seeing what I wanted to see—but I always thought
there was tension between the men.

Parker
pulled out his wallet and showed me a picture of a newborn. “Her name is George. We’re kind of fond of masculine names for women.”

I gasped. “You had your baby?”

He grinned like a proud papa. “Charlie would slap me if I said ‘we.’ She had our baby. C-section. Two days ago.”

“
Shouldn’t you be at home with her?”

“She insisted I keep working. I think I was driving her crazy.”

I looked at the picture again, my heart twisting with some kind of longing I didn’t even know was present. It was funny. I’d never thought of myself as someone who’d wanted children, at least not at this stage of life. But staring at that baby made my insides feel like jelly. “She’s beautiful. Congratulations. Where’d you get the name?”

He shrugged. “We came up with it together.”

“You know there’s a woman named George in the old Nancy Drew books, right?”

A
hint of a smile tugged at his lips. “I think I heard that somewhere before.”

Okay, so that was a little weird. I’m sure it was just a coincidence that his nickname for me used to be Nancy Drew and he named his daughter after a character in one of the books
in that series.

Parker and his girlfriend Charlie
weren’t married yet, at least not that I knew about. Parker had a bit of commitment phobia after a bad first marriage.

Having a kid without the commitment
wasn’t the way I’d want to do things, that was for sure. As someone who grew up in an unstable home, I wanted to give my children a secure and steady future.

Parker lowered himself onto
Riley’s couch. “Okay, back to the case at hand. Tell me exactly what happened.”

I filled him in on everything. My voice trembled as I recalled the events of this evening.
However, this was easily my third time repeating the story. Each time, it got a little easier.

“You sure it
was Jones?” Parker asked when I finished.

I nodded. “Positive. This isn’t my first run in with him, you know.”

“What I don’t understand is how he got inside,” Riley mumbled. He looked at Officer Newell. “You were outside of the house all evening, correct?”

He raised his chin
. “I haven’t left once. I heard the commotion and hurried to see what happened. But no one came or went all night. I would have seen them.”

“The chain on your door
was cut,” Detective Adams said. “Somehow he got into the apartment building.”

I closed my eyes, trying to think this out.
One theory rose above the rest of the possibilities hovering in my mind. When I opened my eyes, I nodded, confident in my deduction. “He was hiding in Sierra’s apartment.”

“Why
would you think that?” Detective Adams asked.

“She’s out of town. The rest of us are here.
Jones knew there was a good chance someone would be stationed outside of the building, and he must have known Sierra was out of town.”

“
How would he have known that?” Parker asked.

“
Am I supposed to come up with all of the answers here? He does his research. He knew who I was. He knew that Bill McCormick lived in the apartment downstairs. That’s why he called into the radio show today.”

“So, what
you’re saying is that Milton Jones knew he couldn’t hide out in your apartment again. So he broke into your neighbor’s place and waited there until it was nighttime. Then he crept up the stairs and broke into your apartment.” Parker stared at me like I was crazy.

I nodded. “That’s the only thing that makes sense.”