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“My dad’s old boss,” Gabe said. “He’s the one who told me that they’d found cocaine in Dad’s pantry and that they ‘didn’t want to ruin Dad’s reputation’ by making that public, but they would if I kept pushing.”
“Sonofabitch,” Xavier muttered.
“Sonofabitch,” his mother echoed, then sighed. “What do you hope to gain, Gabe? I’m not being judgmental. I really need to understand.”
“He knows something,” Gabe said, his face pale and strained. “The day I went to see him, to ask why they weren’t investigating, he was smug and cocky. I wanted to hit him. I still do.”
Shoe jumped off Burke’s lap and climbed into Gabe’s, whining softly. Gabe stroked him and the dog quieted. “He knew that coke wasn’t my dad’s. He knew someone planted it there. He has to know who.”
“Put a pin in that for a little while,” Burke urged. “Let’s get our ducks in a row, first. What we do know, what we don’t know, what we need to specifically find out. Molly, will you take us through it?”
Bayou Gauche, Louisiana
WEDNESDAY, JULY 27, 10:30 P.M.
Molly held up her hand, counting on her fingers all the things they knew so far. “We know that the original victim was Nadia Hall. She had a lover. She was pregnant. He was likely married. She was supposed to see him the night of the flood. Xavier saw a man strangle her. She had a doctor—Dr. Curtis Benson—who is now dead.”
“I found the police report on the doctor,” Antoine said, typing something on one of his laptops. The other two he’d set up nearby and they were doing something. The screens kept changing, with streams of letters and numbers. Carlos was going to get a crick in his neck the way he was leaning over to check them out.
“Dr. Benson had been dead about a day when his body was discovered after an anonymous 911 call, placed a few hours before Rocky’s death.” Antoine paused, glancing at Xavier. “The anonymous call came from a burner—904-555-4930.”
Xavier sucked in a breath. “That’s Rocky’s number—the one he used to call my burner.”
“I know,” Antoine said. “So we can only assume that Rocky found Dr. Benson’s body and called it in. The police report lists Benson’s visible injuries and says that no usable fingerprints were discovered at the scene. His phone was missing, as was his laptop. He was retired, so he no longer saw patients or had a practice, but whatever files he’d kept in his house appeared to have been stolen as well.” He glanced at Burke. “The sheriff’s team took samples of the blood on the floor and some vomit found in the rosebush outside. They detected bleach on the rosebush, which would have rendered the DNA unusable.”
“The empty jug we found in the back of Rocky’s truck,” Burke murmured. “He found the body and threw up but didn’t want to leave any physical evidence behind. Can you get into the doctor’s cell phone records?”
“I can and I did,” Antoine said. “Rocky’s burner number first appears nearly a month before they died. The doctor texted him as well, but to get the content of the texts, I’d need his actual phone. Most carriers don’t keep the content for very long, if at all. Rocky’s last call to the doctor’s phone was the day of his death.”
“How did Rocky find the doctor’s name?” Molly asked. “He never contacted Nadia’s friend.”
There was a beat of silence. “That,” André said, “is a damn good question. Antoine? Did you find anything more on his hard drive?”
Antoine shook his head. “Not yet. I’m still working on his hard drive. Rocky wouldn’t have called all the doctors who had practices back then. It wouldn’t have been legal for the doctors to share their patients’ names.”
“Someone else may have known about Dr. Benson,” Molly said. “I’ll ask April Frazier—that’s Nadia’s best friend—if anyone else knew about the pregnancy.”
“A nurse might have known,” Cicely said slowly. “Or a midwife, or even a doula, if she was planning ahead. Her pharmacist might also have known, especially if she was taking prenatal vitamins.”
Molly made notes on her phone. “Good ideas.” They were brainstorming, after all. Even if an idea wasn’t actionable, it could lead them to a better idea. “Finding those people now, after all this time, might be a problem, but it seems like Rocky managed to find someone.” It wasn’t a problem—it was a needle in a freaking haystack, but they had to try something new.
Gabe drummed his fingers on his knee. “She had terrible morning sickness. That’s what Mrs. Royce said. Remember?”
Molly nodded. “I remember.”
“Who is Mrs. Royce?” Cicely asked.
“She’s the woman who still lives on Xavier’s old street.” Gabe turned back to Molly. “Maybe Dr. Benson gave Nadia something for the nausea. Maybe Dad found her pharmacist.”
Molly winced. It was an even smaller needle in a bigger haystack, but she wouldn’t hurt Gabe’s feelings for the world. “I’m noting it, but it’s a very, very long shot.”
“I’ll search Rocky’s hard drive for anything related to a medication,” Antoine promised. “I’m finding crumbs of information, but so far, nothing has jumped out as important.”
“It’s unlikely that she would have confided the identity of the baby’s father to a pharmacist,” Molly said. “Especially since her lover had sworn her to secrecy about their relationship in general. But again, I’ve written it down.”
Gabe stroked Shoe’s back. “What about the dog?”
Molly looked at him. “The dog? You mean Madame Fluffy?”
