Page 78 of Xavier

“She seems so nice,” Lissette said. “I wish they’d get to the real questions.”

Xavier touched a hand to her back. “They will.”

“Ms. Prejean, your company supplied an antique shop with three of the reliquary boxes that were stolen from those tombs. Would you tell us more about them and how they came into your possession?”

Odette’s hands stilled halfway through wrapping another urn-shaped vase. She didn’t speak for several seconds.

Lissette drew in a breath and held it.

The woman’s hands moved, going through the motions of rolling the vase. “You seem to know a lot about me. Did you know that I’ve spent the past forty years collecting, restoring, cataloging, and protecting tombs and items found inside them? The families don’t care. The only time they go in the tombs is when someone dies. They don’t visit; they don’t cherish the time and effort people before them put into the reliquaries placed there to protect them. I offered some of my findings to museums only for staff to lose them. I’m the only person who wants to keep and protect them. I’ve collected and stored items because I’m the only one who appreciates their value.”

She took another item from the table and wrapped it carefully. “But it all costs money to rent storage space and pay for utilities and the cost of getting the items from the sites to a safe location. When a man came to me, looking for reliquaries that could help give him the protection he knew they could provide, I knew I’d found someone who could appreciate the true value of the items. He said he’d pay me a lot of money for them.”

“Was that man Étienne Benoit?” Beau asked.

Odette nodded. “He came to me a frightened man. He knew because of the work I do that I would understand his fear and why he needed the protection reliquaries. He said three men in five years had taken the lead of his organization. The first, his grandfather, died in jail because a Gautier testified against him. He figured that was the beginning.”

Lissette’s heart stuttered. Vincent Benoit, the man her testimony had sentenced.

“The man who took his place died when his car was forced off the road and ran into a telephone pole.”

“Étienne sent the third man to his grave.” Odette sighed. “Étienne had an incident six weeks ago where he walked away from something that killed everyone else in the room. It scared him. He asked if reliquaries really protected families, like his mother had told him.” She smiled. “I told him they could. He asked if I knew where he could obtain some. I said yes. He wrote a check.” She looked up, her smile sweet, her eyes wide and strangely friendly. “I had forty years of documentation that I started when I lived in Bayou Mambaloa. I gave him the list of the tombs that contained the reliquaries.”

“Did he send the people to collect them, or did you?” Beau asked.

“Oh, I didn’t collect them. I never would’ve damaged the tombs like his men did.” She shook her head. “Such a shame. I spoke to the sexton and offered to help restore the damaged tombs.”

“And the reliquaries?” Beau continued. “Where are they?”

Odette smiled up at Beau. “Why, they’re with that dear man, Étienne. All of them. At least all of what was inside the boxes. He had no use for the boxes and sent some back to me to dispose of as I wished.”

“Do you know where he’s keeping the contents of those reliquaries?” Beau asked.

“He said he was taking them to his camp.” Her brow furrowed. “The last time I talked to him, he was rather angry. He said the reliquaries weren’t working for him, and he wondered why. I told him that they weren’t created for him, but for the specific families whose tombs they were placed in. He was so angry. It scared me a little. I told him if he wanted protection for himself, he’d have to have a reliquary made for him by the family that started it all.” She smiled up at Beau. “The Gautiers.”

Lissette gasped.

Xavier slipped an arm around her waist and pulled her close.

Odette waved a hand in the video. “I told him that to get him off my back and out of my warehouse. I didn’t think he’d take me seriously.”

For Lissette, the rest of the interview passed in a blur. Odette’s words had caused this string of events that had landed her grandmother in the hands of a frightened mafia kingpin. How were they going to rescue her in the middle of a hurricane?

* * *

Beau and Landry left the warehouse heading back to Bayou Mambaloa.

“Meet us at the Crawdad Hole,” Remy told them. “They’re still serving, and we could all stand to eat while we’re figuring out where to start the search. Shelby will join us briefly before she heads north with Jean-Luc.”

Everyone but Lucas moved toward the exit. He would stay and man the comms through the storm. Felina, his fiancé, would join him before noon. She was wrapping up at her flower shop, hoping it would withstand the storm.

Lissette stayed close to Xavier, her body trembling. “I don’t feel like going to the Crawdad Hole,” she whispered.

“Sounds like everyone is meeting there to talk about hurricane support and rescue efforts for your grandmother.” Xavier reached for and squeezed her hand and didn’t let go. “We need to be there.”

The last thing Lissette needed was people glaring at her or calling her names under their breath or to her face. However, if it meant coming up with a plan to save her grandmother, she’d be there.

Rain and wind lashed them as they ran for the truck. They followed Remy’s vehicle to the Crawdad Hole, passing through a point where the water covered the road at least six inches deep. It would soon become impassable, closing the road until the hurricane and residual rain moved out of the area and the water receded.