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“I have. It’s your turn now. I’ve cleaned up enough of your messes.”
“It’s in your best interest to do so,” Lamont reminded him mildly, trying to hide his trepidation. Yes, he’d made a mistake that night in Katrina. But Jackass had helped him get rid of her body, and in the years since, they’d assisted each other. Back and forth. And Jackass had never complained until now. “Covering up a murder—or multiple murders—plus aiding in the disposal of a body could become a real problem for you.”
Jackass narrowed his eyes. “Don’t push me, Monty. I swear you won’t like the consequences.” Lamont opened his mouth to reply, but Jackass barreled on. “Use your contacts to find out where Broussard is hiding the kid. And for God’s sake, take care of Eckert before he has a chance to blab. He’s spittin’ mad and not nearly as good at hiding it as he used to be.”
Lamont drew a breath, his face burning with rage because a shiver of fear was slinking down his spine. He could make Jackass’s life difficult, but, if push came to shove, Jackass could put him in prison. Up until now, they’d scratched each other’s backs. Had helped each other up their respective ladders. It didn’t look like their mutually beneficial relationship would last much longer. He wondered when Jackass had turned on him, because this threat was new.
New and very serious.
Lamont forced his tone to remain calm. “I’ve got plans for Eckert, so you don’t need to worry about that. Tell me, what were your plans for Xavier once you got him to New Orleans?”
Jackass stared at him for a long moment, then shook his head. “Truthfully, I wasn’t sure. I was pretty angry when I found out that you’d found him. I wasn’t sure what your game was.”
Liar, Lamont thought, but smiled sadly. “I wanted to take care of him myself. So you weren’t liable for my ‘messes.’ ”
Jackass had the good grace to look uncomfortable. “I guess I can appreciate that. Just... don’t do it again, okay?”
“Okay.” It appeared that they’d achieved a détente of sorts, so Lamont pushed forward. “As for Broussard, he could be hiding Morrow in a hotel or something.”
“Maybe. We’re checking for any hotel activity on Broussard’s credit cards—company and personal. So far, nada. But I know the man has a camp down the bayou. Rocky mentioned it once, then clammed up, like he knew he’d said too much. Broussard grew up in the swamp. He knows all the good places to hide. If he’s there, I’m betting he has it booby-trapped for any trespassers.”
Lamont shrugged. “Then we draw Broussard out. If he brings the Morrow kid with him, all the better. Twofer. But if it’s just Broussard, we can follow him back. Put a tracker on his vehicle.” Lamont considered all the possibilities, then he smiled when the perfect solution presented itself. “If Morrow’s told him what he saw all those years ago, then they’ll be trying to identify the victim. What if the victim’s ‘best friend’ or a ‘family member’ surfaces?” He used air quotes. “What if this person tells Broussard that she’s been targeted? Her life is at risk.” He nodded, the idea taking shape in his mind. “She makes up a name for the victim, which sends them off on a wild-goose chase. In the meantime, we’re tracking Broussard back to his hidey-hole.”
Jackass’s grin was very Grinch-like. “I like it. Who’s our femme fatale? Has to be someone we can trust.”
“I know the perfect person. My former assistant, Ashley. She even looks like... you know. Her.” Because Lamont had a type, and he wasn’t ashamed to admit it.
“I know,” Jackass said dryly. “She-who-shall-not-be-named. The bitch who started all this.”
True enough. Nadia Hall. The name Lamont hadn’t spoken aloud since the night he’d killed her. “I’ll arrange for Ashley to contact Broussard.”
“There has to be a reasonable reason for her to surface now and an even more reasonable reason that she goes to Broussard,” Jackass cautioned.
“I’m aware,” Lamont snapped, then drew a breath to calm his mind. Think, think, think. Oh. Okay. “What if Ashley claims to have gotten a visit from Rocky shortly before his death and she told him about her sister? Then Rocky gets murdered.”
“But why wouldn’t Ashley have contacted Broussard earlier?”
“Because someone hadn’t tried to kill her until now. She first reached out to Rocky, only to find he was dead. Rocky had told her if something happened and she couldn’t reach him, to call Broussard. So she does.”
“Did she-who-shall-not-be-named actually have a sister?”
“No. I asked.” Because Lamont preferred to keep mistresses with no family or friends. They were needy, always available, and, if they went missing, no one came looking for them. Nadia had declared that her family was dead, which had made her perfect.
She really had been perfect. He’d loved her, in fact. He’d actually gone to rescue her that night. She’d put off leaving until it was too late. The water had already covered the single-story houses on the street, forcing him to borrow Jackass’s boat to go save her.
And then she’d had to go and threaten to tell his first wife that she was pregnant. Nowadays, a scandal like that would be bad, but survivable. Back then, though, it would have been a disaster.
So he’d had to do it. Had to kill her. He’d figured she’d be counted as a flood fatality, but the water had never reached her bed. That had been a shock, seeing the house he’d taken as payment from a desperate client on the television, the upper-story windows still visible. Luckily, his former client’s name was still on the deed, but the house—and the body—still could have been traced to him.
So he’d had to go back and fetch her body. Jackass had gone with him the second time. Had helped him dispose of her afterward. And that had been that.
Problem resolved. Until Rocky Hebert had started sticking his nose into things that he should have left well enough alone. Looking for her doctor had been bad enough, but when they’d learned he’d set up a trust for a kid who’d supposedly died in Katrina? The old cop hadn’t given up on solving this case. Too bad that his setting up the trust was what had led them to the kid. Ironic, that. In helping Xavier Morrow, Rocky had shined a spotlight on the one person whose testimony could have put Lamont away for murder.
“She didn’t have any family,” Lamont said, “so making up a sister will work. Nobody can disprove it.”
Jackass nodded. “I like it. It doesn’t have to hold water for long. Just long enough to flush out Broussard, who’ll eventually take us to the Morrow kid. But what about your girl? Why would she agree?”
“I’ll tell her that this guy is suspected in a child endangerment case. That’s her trigger.”
