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“Your father was a cop. Did he teach you to shoot?”
“He was and he did. Not necks, though. That was an accident.”
Cardozo’s smile was kind. “I never met your father, but I’ve heard good things about him.”
Gabe glanced at Willa Mae, unsure of how to respond.
“Just say thank you, Gabe,” she murmured.
“Thank you?”
Cardozo chuckled wryly. “You’re welcome?” He propped his arm on the table and leaned forward, sobering. “Do you know who it was wearing the hoodie?”
“No. If I knew, I’d tell you.”
“Who do you think killed your father?”
Gabe hesitated, then figured why the hell not? “Do you accept that he didn’t commit suicide?”
“I do. Miss Sutton told me about the private autopsy you had done. We’d already found the record in Dr. McLain’s cloud account—her husband knew her passwords and has been very cooperative in our investigation into her murder.”
Gabe started to relax. Maybe this really would be okay. “Why didn’t you ask me earlier about my father’s murder? Like yesterday?” Before I was forced to kill a man.
“Because we just got the files last night. We’d intended to discuss it with you today, then events happened and here you are. Last question: do you intend to keep looking for your father’s killer?”
Gabe didn’t look at Willa Mae. He kept his gaze locked on Cardozo’s. “Yes.”
“I figured as much. If you’d said no, I would have doubted everything else you’d told me. But this is the deal, Mr. Hebert. I’d like to let you go home—or wherever you choose to go here in the city. But I can’t have vigilantes out there hunting down killers and shooting up SUVs. Or even shooting men attempting abduction.”
Gabe studied the man for a long moment, then nodded. “I understand your position.”
“I hoped you would. Thank you for your time and your candor. And thank you especially for the video. It will come in handy, I expect.”
“I hope so. Do you know who the hoodie guy is?”
“No. But I will.”
“Do you know who the victim was? The one whose...” Gabe swallowed. “The one whose head we found?”
Cardozo didn’t speak for at least five seconds. He just held Gabe’s gaze, blinking in time with the ticking of the clock on the wall.
Gabe didn’t know how to feel about that. The man did know who the young woman had been. And he wanted Gabe to know that he knew. “I’m glad,” Gabe finally whispered. “I hope her family gets closure.”
Cardozo rose, smoothing a hand down his saxophone tie. “You’re free to go, Mr. Hebert. If you wouldn’t mind, please stay in town. Your phone will be returned to you, and Miss Sutton is waiting for you in the lobby.”
Then the ADA took his briefcase and walked out, leaving Gabe staring at the door. “What the—”
“When we’re alone,” Willa Mae murmured. “Not a word until I tell you to. Now let’s get out of here.”
Gabe held his tongue but stared at the one-way glass that made up one of the walls. There were people back there, he knew. Apparently, Willa Mae didn’t trust them.
Saying nothing, he followed Officer McCauley out of the room and through the halls to the lobby, where Molly was pacing the floor. She ran to Gabe, throwing her arms around his neck and holding on for dear life.
“I’m okay,” he murmured, his arms closing around her as he breathed her in. Her hair smelled like the shampoo in Farrah’s bathroom, and he missed the scent of her own orange shampoo. She was still wearing Farrah’s sweats, complete with the mud stains from when the shooter had knocked her down. But she was alive and whole and appeared unhurt by the cops. He honestly wasn’t sure what he’d expected them to do, given that one of the NOPD brass was dead. “You?”
She tightened her hold, pressing her face against his neck before letting him go. “Me too.”
And that was all they said until they were outside, where Burke waited with his truck. “Get in,” he said. “And buckle up.”
