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23
Tulane-Gravier, New Orleans, Louisiana
THURSDAY, JULY 28, 9:15 A.M.
Lamont straightened his tie, his hand pausing on the doorknob. He stared at his office door, psyching himself up to enter. He was showered, dressed, and ready to start the day.
Usually that meant paperwork and a slew of meetings.
Today that meant first figuring out how much the cops knew. How much of his face had been captured on that video?
Damn that Gabe Hebert and damn his fucking phone.
Damn his own gun, jamming on him when he’d needed it most.
I should have run them over. Why didn’t I just run them over?
He’d panicked, pure and simple. He couldn’t fight, so flight had taken over. And if he didn’t figure out a way out of all of this, his fit of panic would be the thing that ended him.
The murder of Jackson Mule was all over the news, but the details were scant. City movers and shakers were crying crocodile tears over the “loss of a great man.”
Bullshit.Jackass had been nothing more than a bully. A stupid, ham-handed bully.
He got the drop on you, so maybe he’s not so stupid after all?
Shut up. Just... shut up.
“Lamont? Got a minute?”
He turned toward the man moving toward him. Jean-Pierre, Ashley’s new boss. He hated dealing with him, because he knew all that squeaky-cleanness had to be a front. Other than using his more suitable, French-sounding middle name to get in good with the locals, Kaj Jean-Pierre was a damn choirboy. That boy is no more squeaky-clean than I am. Trouble was, Lamont had never been able to find proof to that effect.
“Jean-Pierre. What can I do for you?”
“I’m looking for Ashley. She’s late to work and I desperately need the brief that she was working on yesterday. She must have saved it to her hard drive, because it’s not on the server. If I can’t find her, I’ll have to get a network admin to unlock her computer. Have you seen her?”
“I sure haven’t,” Lamont lied smoothly. He entered his office, Jean-Pierre on his heels.
Carrie looked up from her computer, her mouth curving in a polite smile. “Good morning, sir.” She rose and took Lamont’s jacket, hanging it on the back of the door. “Coffee?”
“Yes, please.” He’d have preferred a bourbon to relax his tense muscles, but not here at work. He turned to give Jean-Pierre a pointed glare. “She’s not here. You should look elsewhere.”
The other man ignored him. “Carrie, have you seen Ashley?”
“No, sir. Not this morning. If I see her, should I tell her that you’re looking for her?”
“Yes, please,” Jean-Pierre said, sounding frazzled, then left muttering, “Dammit.”
“That man is rude,” Lamont said dismissively.
“He’s not so bad,” Carrie said with a fond smile. “Once you get to know him, anyway. He’s just intense. He’ll calm down once he’s more used to the pace down here.”
Because Kaj had come from New York City. That was enough reason to distrust the man.
Putting Jean-Pierre out of his mind, Lamont gave Carrie a list of the briefs he needed for the day and shut the door to his office. Finding it empty, he sighed quietly in relief.
He’d feared, deep down, that someone with a badge would be waiting for him, but so far, so good. If they had seen his face on that damn video, they’d have been here with handcuffs.
He remembered the way the woman’s eyes had squinted. The rising sun had blinded her. Hopefully it had cast any visible part of his face in enough shadow that the video was useless.
