Suspicious Minds (Squeaky Clean Series, Book 2) (32 page)

"Move faster!" Bob yelled.

If you hadn't shot me in the arm, maybe I could.

I saw Chad beyond the darkness as splashes of sunlight filtered inside. Seeing him somehow comforted me. At least I wouldn't die alone.

I shook the thought out of my head.

I wouldn't die. I was smart. Chad was smart. We'd figure a way out of this. This house would not be our grave.

My elbow hit the mushy ground under the house. Flashbacks of finding Elvis stormed into my head. I could smell his rot again. See his lifeless body. Hear the insects feeding on him.

Creepy crawlies flickered up my spine. Bile rose in my throat. Scenarios crashed into my mind.

"It's okay, Gabby," Chad whispered.

"Have fun with the snakes," Doughboy said. I looked back and saw his sorry excuse for a face leering into the crawl space. He actually smiled.

I wanted to claw his face off.

Before I had a chance to, darkness closed in.

"STAY CALM, Gabby" Chad's voice sounded miles away.

"Stay calm? We're going to die under here. How can I stay calm? If the gas doesn't kill me, a snake will"

"We'll get out"

Steady your breathing, Gabby. It's going to be okay. Chad's right. We'll get out of here.

I reached forward. "Where are you?"

"I'm right here" He grabbed my hand. My heartbeat slowed some.

I remembered the crawl-space door, a shoddy wood compilation. How hard could it be to kick it off? Probably just a nudge would do it. "We can get that cover off, right?"

"He got a new one that locks" Chad's voice sounded grim.

"Still, there's got to be a way." Think, Gabby. Think. "We can scream"

"He has a generator on outside. The noise will drown out our cries"

"You're not making me feel better" I couldn't give in to defeat. "We need to think quickly. When he releases that gas. .

"I'm trying to think quickly!"

Chad's near panic made me forget about my own ... for a second, at least. "How about the little vents along the sides of the house? Can we knock one of those out?"

"Maybe" Chad let go of my hand, and I heard him moving.

"What are you doing?" I heard my pitch go high.

"I left a flashlight in here somewhere"

A flashlight! Then we could see any snakes. "Great"

"Finding it is another story."

My muscles froze. I should try to help, but I couldn't move. I imagined the cobwebs I might encounter, that would drape over my skin, sending spiders scurrying through my hair. I imagined reaching forward and grabbing another snake. This time, the creature would be alive. Its fangs would dig into my skin. Venom would stop my heart.

And Chad wouldn't even be able to find my lifeless body because of the utter blackness around us.

"Gabby?"

"Yeah?"

"Keep talking to me"

"Okay" Yet I could think of nothing to say. I tried. I really did. But chatting about my favorite songs just didn't seem appropriate at the moment. "All I can think about is music"

"What songs are you thinking about?"

"`The Great Gig in the Sky' by Pink Floyd."

"Think of another song."

"`See That My Grave Is Kept Clean...

"Huh?"

"By Blind Lemon Jefferson. A blues singer-"

'And guitarist from Texas. Van Morrison referred to him on his album Beautiful Vision. Said he was one of the most influential blues singers ever."

I was seriously impressed. And temporarily distracted.

"Okay, the music thing isn't working." Chad moved around in the distance. "Are you going to let me teach you to surf this summer?"

"You're still going to be around?"

"Of course, I'll be around. We're going to be partners, remember? I can't leave my partner."

"But what about your plans?"

"Plans change. So about my question. You want to learn to surf?"

I remembered my father trying to teach me as a child. If I learned to surf, would that help me to understand my father more? Or would I only come to dislike the man more?

"I'll think about it"

"Fair enough. There's nothing like riding a wave, Gabby. I'm telling you, nothing in the world like it. It gives you such a rush-"

"Did you find the flashlight yet?"

"I thought it was over here somewhere" I could hear Chad moving. "Here it is!"

Relief washed through me. Everything would be better with some light.

"What?" Chad sounded frustrated.

"What? What's happening?"

"This was just working a minute ago."

"Don't tell me" I would have let my head drop to the ground, only the mushy ground was the last thing I wanted my face to touch.

"The flashlight won't turn on"

Another sound distracted me. Coming from the area around the crawlspace opening. I could hear something rubbing against the metal.

I knew what was happening.

Doughboy was about to gas us.

And I couldn't do anything about it.

AT LEAST I'd die peacefully.

Rumor has it that death by gas is painless. You go to sleep. You never wake up.

There were worse ways to die.

Only, I didn't want to die. It was like Mrs. Mystery said-I had undiscovered potential.

Mrs. Mystery!

In excitement, I jerked my head up and promptly hit a beam. I moaned and rubbed my scalp.

"You okay?" Chad asked.

"Yeah, just great"

What was my neighbor doing? Was she still in the van? Would she realize something was wrong and get help?

Or worse, would Doughboy find her on the street and kill her also?

Please, Lord, protect the woman. She doesn't deserve to die like this. Me, on the other hand, I probably deserve a lot of things. Riley said you're not a God who dishes out punishment based on who deserves it. I hope he's right.

While I'm praying, if you could nudge Mrs. Mystery that maybe she needs to find a phone and call the police, that would be great.

Suddenly, it smelled like someone had left a gas stove on.

"Gabby?"

I swallowed the lump in my throat. "Yes, Chad?"

"Are you okay?"

"As okay as I can be considering I'm paralyzed with fear and starting to feel like a turkey sitting in the oven at Thanksgiving"

"Good to know."

"Isn't it?"

"We can still get out of here, Gabby Girl"

It sounded a bit like Supergirl, didn't it? I pictured myself in a crimescene cleaning uniform with a big G across the front. Maybe that should be my new company logo.

Maybe the gas was already starting to affect me.

The G could stand for Gas.

I could see the headlines. "Gabby Girl Gagged by Gas" Try saying that five times fast.

"I'm going to try and push this hose back out," Chad said.

"Good idea"

I heard him moving. Thought about the plastic beneath us. The gas streaming inside. The closed quarters.

"Stop!" I screamed.

Silence hovered. "Why?"

"We're sliding around on a mixture of plastic moisture barrier and dirt. It's dry and cold outside. We could form static electricity, which would cause a spark, which could cause this whole place to explode"

Silence again. This time filled with apprehension. Heaviness settled on the air.

"We can't just sit here and die," Chad finally said.

"I think I'm going to throw up, Chad."

"Stay with me, Gabby!"

The gas was getting to me. I knew it was. I'd had prior experience while locked in the trunk of a car that sat running in a garage.

At least Chad would be here with me when I died. That was a nice thing about having a partner- A partner! I'd never answered him.

"Let's do it," I said.

"Do what? Am I missing something?"

Nausea rose in my gut. My head twirled. My thoughts collided.

I had to keep talking. "If we get out of here, let's go into business together, you and me"

"Really? You won't regret it"

No, if I died, of course I wouldn't regret the decision. It was an easy choice to make here on death's door.

I couldn't pass out. I couldn't succumb to death.

"Gabby?"

"I'm here"

"Gabby?" Chad's voice sounded awfully high-pitched and squeaky.

"Chad?"

"That wasn't me" That sounded like Chad. The other voice sounded like...

Mrs. Mystery!

"In here!" I wanted to crawl toward her voice, but I stopped myself. I had to remain calm. It helped that the gas was making me lethargic. If you would consider that helping. "We're under the house:"

"The door is locked" I heard Mrs. Mystery rattle it.

"Can you pull the hose out?" Chad asked.

"This one?"

"The one going into the crawl space." I could hear the weariness in Chad's voice. The fumes were getting to him too.

"Let me see if I can pull it out. It doesn't look very complicated, though it is attached to this big old tank of something. I have a feeling it isn't helium:"

Brilliant deduction, Sherlock. "Hurry. Please"

"Okay, I've got it"

We needed fresh air and fast. But if the crawl space was locked ...

Was this all for naught?

"Don't worry, I called Riley."

Riley? Why would she call Riley? I mean, sure, he'd gotten me out of some scrapes before. But how about the police?

"Mrs. Morgan, you could be in danger. You should go back to the van and lock the doors"

"Don't worry. I did some reverse feng shui of the internal sort on your villain. He'll be out for a while."

I heard metal against metal. I paused, waiting for the gassy air to explode.

Then the crawl-space door opened. Fresh air flooded in.

"I'm going to crawl out, Gabby. Then I'll give you the respirator, okay?" I heard Chad but barely. Stars and stripes exploded in my head. And I'm not talking about the patriotic type.

I held my breath. Waited for a spark. Braced for an explosion.

Please, God, no.

Chad's feet disappeared outside. Then a tank appeared. I quickly put the mask on and greedily gulped in the oxygen.

"GOBBLE, GOBBLE, gobble, gobble." Chad could imitate a turkey about as well as Sierra could do bird calls.

"Would you stop saying that?" Sierra paused from peeling potatoes for long enough to shoot eye daggers at Chad. "That bird used to be alive. It deserves more respect than your leering eyes are giving it"

Sierra looked with compassion at the turkey I basted in my apartment kitchen. For a moment, guilt pounded at my temples. Then I remembered how yummy sliced turkey smothered with gravy tasted, and my guilt disappeared.

For our Thanksgiving feast, Sierra had brought her own turkey tofu. Enough to feed a houseful, which was too bad since she'd be the only one eating it.

I angled my body to block both Sierra and Chad from seeing the bird, and I basted it again. Only one more hour in the oven, and it would be ready to eat.

"Are you finished peeling the potatoes?" I asked both of them.

"Peeling away, my dear" Chad grinned and held up a particularly long potato skin ribbon. He'd been trying all day to get one long enough to use as a turkey belt. And yes, a turkey belt is just what it sounds like: an accessory to go around Dinner, my affectionate name for the turkey we would later devour.