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He nodded and drove around and found a municipal garage. Once parked, they walked the few blocks to Petunia Pete’s.
“Oh! Is Ragnar joining us?” Colleen asked.
Mark shook his head. “He’s focused on the hospital.” He hesitated. “I’m sure you know. Criminals who are intent on making sure a witness or someone else is dead—someone who survived a first murder attempt—sometimes find their way to the hospital. Ragnar is going to make sure both of our rescued young women remain rescued.”
“Good call. But the police are there watching.”
“And the police are good. It’s like everything else. Most officers are excellent, doing their civic duty. But Ragnar’s always afraid of a roo—”
He broke off.
Colleen grinned. “Rookie?”
He shrugged. “Someone who really doesn’t expect any danger. Other Krewe members will spell him later. We’re bad in a way. At the Krewe, we have come to primarily rely on one another, when honestly, there are incredible officers and agents elsewhere. But the way we work...”
He trailed off.
They asked the hostess for a table. Mark also pulled out his phone, explaining he was FBI, and they were looking for anyone who was working a few nights ago, and who might have seen a certain customer—a man who could be a witness in an ongoing investigation.
The hostess was flustered and worried, but she looked at the picture and assured Mark he could also speak with the manager and the waitstaff.
But as she was talking, Colleen was looking around the room.
She gave Mark a quick jab on the arm.
“Mark.”
He turned to her, frowning. But then he saw what she saw.
The man captured in Maisie’s sketch was seated at a window table, eyes on his phone while he took bites of meat from the plate to his side.
