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“I feel so damn helpless,” he confessed. “I can’t even cook anything.”
Patty reached across the small table to squeeze his forearm. “I know. I feel helpless, too. At least Mom and Dad are okay. I checked in with them.”
Gabe frowned. He hadn’t even thought of his aunt and uncle. Just one more thing to feel guilty over. “Where are they?”
“I suggested that they take a trip. They decided to visit my grandma in Florida.”
At least they were out of harm’s way. Unlike Dr. McLain and Dusty Woodruff.
He couldn’t think about them. Not right now. He turned to Molly, who was once again sitting cross-legged on the bed. “What are you doing?”
“Looking at property records,” she said without looking up.
“For?” he pressed.
“The street where Xavier lived with his biological mother before Katrina. That area was underwater for days. None of the houses were spared. Everything there was built post-Katrina. Even if Xavier did go back to see the neighborhood, it won’t look the same. Burke and I agreed that it doesn’t make sense to put Xavier in danger for no good reason, so he’s staying put today.”
Gabe breathed a sigh of relief. He hadn’t realized how tense he was over Xavier leaving Burke’s safe house.
“So why are you still looking at property records?” Patty asked.
“I’m looking to see which owners are the same as pre-Katrina. Old neighbors might remember the woman Xavier described.”
“That’s a good idea,” Patty said. “A lot of people left the city and never came back, but there were some who rebuilt in the same place.”
Gabe studied Molly with renewed appreciation. “That’s a smart approach.”
She looked up then and smiled at him. “Thank you. We don’t know the exact house where Xavier’s mother lived because she rented the place, but I have found three property owners so far who’re still there. We’ve got Xavier’s description of the woman—tall, with long blond hair down to her butt—so I figure we can ask them if they remember a woman who’d walk her dog. His description of the dog was even better than his description of the woman.”
“What kind of dog?” Gabe asked.
“He searched a dog breed page until he found the animal. It was an Afghan hound.”
He gave a low whistle. “Those are pretty rare, aren’t they?”
She nodded. “They are. Neighbors might remember it.”
Patty frowned. “What does one of those even look like?”
Gabe did a quick search on his phone and showed the photo to his cousin. “Like this.” The dog was tall with a long, glamorous coat and long silky ears. “I saw a commercial once where the dog was in the passenger seat of a convertible and looked like a blond woman with her hair blowing in the wind until it turned around.”
“I’ve seen them,” Patty said, “but only on TV. Never in person.”
“Me either,” Molly said. “I can’t imagine that it was a dog people saw too often. Especially with all that coat. They’d roast in the summer here.”
“So we’re going door to door?” Gabe asked.
Patty gave a worried sigh, but said nothing. They’d already argued about it, and Gabe wasn’t budging. He was not going to hide while Molly took all the risks.
“I guess we are,” Molly said resignedly, because she still wasn’t keen on exposing him to danger. “We can leave as soon as Phin gets here with the vests. Patty, I’ll drop you off at Burke’s office to wait until Val is done in court.”
“Val is done in court,” Val said from the adjoining doorway. She reminded Gabe of a Viking warrior, minus the armor and sword. At the moment, she was leaning against the doorframe, looking frustrated and grim. She held what appeared to be their Kevlar vests, one in each hand.
Molly set her laptop aside and slowly came to her feet. “What happened?”
“I couldn’t get anywhere near the courthouse,” Val said. She pushed away from the doorframe and sat on the bed that Gabe and Molly had shared. “There was a stabbing in Holding sometime during the night.”
“Well, shit,” Molly breathed. “Is Eckert dead?”
