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“What? How is that possible?”
“I don’t know. But it’s at the exact spot of the Vieux Carre, so my guess is he was underground and either someone brought him up or his phone. Idiot didn’t check. Could be a trap. Always assume it’s a trap.”
My heart pounded. I kept thinking about what Kennedy said how Crew wasn’t cut out for torture and discomfort. It was best my sister was still asleep when we left the house. One less person to worry while we tracked down what this meant.
“I thought Kennedy controlled the access to the tunnels. How could anyone else get down there?” I asked.
“There are other points of entry outside the Vieux Carre. I check them regularly. Someone with knowledge of the schematics would know, though. Narrows the suspect list.”
“And the shipping activity?” I posed the question, curious as to how much Kimble would reveal.
“We don’t have anything running this week,” he explained. “Tunnels are clear of our contractors.” It wasn’t much, but it was enough to explain that the tunnels ran on a schedule. A schedule Kimble knew. And a schedule some other contractors were privy to.
“What happened to the ping on Crew’s phone? Is it still there?”
He shook his head. “No. It didn’t leave the hotel. But it went dark again. That’s why I think the tunnels are where we start.”
He made an abrupt stop when a woman darted onto the street. He paused.
“You’re going to need this.” He grabbed a gun strapped to his ankle and handed it to me over the consol.
“Thanks.” I checked the safety and made sure it was loaded.
“You know how to use it?” he asked.
I glared at him. “I’m Raphael Corban’s son. Of course, I know how to use a fucking gun.”
“Just don’t point it at me. And don’t shoot in the dark tunnels.”
“Wow. You have a lot of respect for me, don’t you Kimble?” I huffed.
“You get what you earn.”
“I’ve earned your respect,” I fired back. “I’ve done nothing but make sure Kennedy is protected and taken care of. I give her what she needs.”
“Maybe we have different definitions of what she needs.”
I hated when he did that. When he played the familiarty card. Threw out hints and suggestions that he might know her better than I did. I knew that was the plan—to rile me up. To piss me off. I had to push that down and not let it cloud my judgement. We had to trust each other in the tunnels.
We were getting closer to the hotel. He had to drive slower through the city streets.
He maneuvered through the alley behind the hotel. God, I hoped we didn’t run into guests. My profile was more visible after my bail hearing.
Kimble parked. “Follow behind me. I know the quickest way to get to the tunnels. Don’t do anything stupid,” he instructed, pulling his gun from the holster.
I scoffed. “Fine.” An act of defiance at this point, would only put us both in danger, but this bastard deserved to be knocked down a few pegs.
He used a keypad to access an employee service entrance. We slipped inside and made a quick turn for a closet that looked as if it held a freight elevator.
“This is it.” He turned a key into the wall and the door retracted. We stepped inside and started to descend beneath the hotel.
I had forgotten the musky Earthy scent until it hit my nostrils with a violet pungent slap. I coughed into my elbow. The world below New Orleans was shadowy and dark. A city that couldn’t bury its dead below sea level, kept other secrets buried here instead. As soon as we stepped off the lift it was as if all those horrors wrapped around us. I had to grip my fist next to my thigh to stop the shiver that ran across my shoulders. Only a few nights ago I teased Kennedy for not believing in the folklore of this city. Now, I wished I didn’t know as much as I did.
Kimble held up a military-grade flashlight. The beam was focused and ultra-clear. He raised his finger to his lips and motioned for me to step behind me. The door closed behind us, and I realized we were here until we fought whatever demon had lured us underground.
24
Kennedy
