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13
The Quarter, New Orleans, Louisiana
TUESDAY, JULY 26, 8:00 P.M.
Gabe sank into one of the cushioned chairs in Burke’s conference room, feeling as achy as an old man. “How are you even still functional?” he asked Molly, who stood at the whiteboard in the conference room. Exactly where she’d been standing when he’d taken all the dishes to Burke’s horrible little kitchen to wash and put them away.
The cook in him could not leave a messy kitchen. Even one like Burke’s.
Burke had taken the Houston folks to his camp, wherever that was. Joy had bought them basic toiletries and promised to get them some clothes the next day.
Gabe and Molly had stayed behind because Burke didn’t have enough room for all of them. Which was a bit of a relief if Gabe was being honest. He truly liked Xavier and his crew, but he needed some downtime to process everything that he’d learned that day.
It was a lot.
The office was very, very quiet and might have felt unsafe but for the arrival of the night security guard, who’d introduced himself only as Phin, before leaving to do his rounds. The man was scarily big and hulking—clearly former military—and, while he didn’t scowl or frown, he exuded an undercurrent of tension that made the hair on the back of Gabe’s neck stand up straight and salute.
He had lots of questions about that guy, but Molly had simply greeted Phin with a smile and turned back to the whiteboard.
Gabe let himself take a moment to admire the way her curvy, round ass filled out her slacks—which looked exactly as crisp as they had that morning. At this point, he was seriously wondering about her having witchcraft. The rest of them had been disheveled and exhausted, but she looked like she’d just had a nap and change of clothes.
She’d recopied their earlier notes and questions, but not in the same way. The first draft had been a free-form, stream-of-consciousness effort. The board now looked like a starburst, questions, notes, and the names of people connected to the center—which was the unnamed victim of the murder Xavier had witnessed the night of his Katrina rescue.
“I’m tired,” Molly admitted. “But I needed to reorganize my thoughts, and this is the way I do it. I write it all down, then move stuff around until it starts to make sense. Everything connects. We just don’t know how yet.”
“What are our next steps?”
She capped the marker and took a step back to view the entire board. “I think my previous search of old police reports is a dead end.” She winced. “Sorry. Poor choice of words.”
He waved the air. “Don’t be sorry. I know what you meant. I wish I’d known about this case of Dad’s. I never suspected a thing. I wonder if my mother did. I mean, she met Xavier and his mom, so she at least knew that Dad had met him that night during Katrina, but did she know about the murder?”
“Have you heard from your aunt Gigi yet? Maybe she can shed some light on things.”
“Not yet. I’ve left about a million messages and texts. I’m really worried.” He rubbed his temples. “We were able to trace John Alan Industries back to her, so I’m thinking the bad guys—whoever they are—could have done the same. They could have killed her, just like Dad.”
Molly sat in the chair beside him. “Maybe she’s on vacation.”
“That’s entirely possible. She has a group of friends she travels with. They’re pretty adventurous and sometimes go places where they don’t get phone service.”
“We can ask Antoine to try to trace her phone.”
“Ask Antoine,” a male voice said from behind them. “Everybody asks Antoine.”
They turned to see a man who looked so much like André Holmes that Gabe knew this was his brother. Plus, the way Molly was rolling her eyes at the man was another clue.
“You love being indispensable,” Molly said. “Don’t even try that put-upon crap with me.”
Antoine grinned, and there Gabe could easily see the difference between the brothers. André had been sober and, even when he smiled, he’d seemed burdened. Which wasn’t a shock considering he had a bad actor in his department who’d effectively helped the Paul Lott impersonator to escape.
Antoine, on the other hand, looked carefree and happy. And a little frenetic.
“Are you okay?” Gabe asked carefully.
Antoine chuckled. “I haven’t slept in nearly two days, so I’m a little... bouncy at the moment.”
“High on caffeine,” Molly stage-whispered.
“You wound me, Molly. But you’re right. I am well and truly buzzed from coffee and Mountain Dew.” Antoine joined them at the table, taking in the whiteboard in a glance. “I always like your diagrams. Burke called me with an update before he took the Houston folks to his camp, but you’ve organized it so much more clearly. You have a techie brain lurking under all that badassery.”
