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28
Hotel Monteleone, New Orleans, Louisiana
FRIDAY, JULY 29, 7:20 P.M.
It’s too loud,” Gabe complained from where they sat parked on Iberville Street down the street from the back entrance of the Monteleone. They were in a loading zone, but since they were being guarded by Officer McCauley—who stood next to Burke’s SUV, hand on his holstered gun—Gabe figured they weren’t likely to be towed.
Everyone was partying and there was music everywhere, loud enough to be heard through the closed windows of Burke’s SUV. Normally Gabe loved the noise of the Quarter during a festival, but this was off the charts, especially since he’d been hiding out on the bayou where the only real noise was that of the birds.
“It’s because of Satchmo,” Molly said from the front seat, her gaze never pausing, looking for threats.
I know, Gabe wanted to snap, but bit it back. It wasn’t Molly’s fault that he was wound tighter than a damn drum. He could still see Joelle Ducote’s lifeless body on the ground, her eyes staring up at the sky as he and Burke had done CPR.
He’d seen more dead bodies this week than he had in his whole life. And his father had seen them so much more often for more than thirty-five years. So suck it up, Hebert.
He tried, drawing in a lungful of air and holding it for a few beats before letting it out.
“You okay?” Xavier muttered.
“No, not really. But I will be.” But Xavier continued to look worried, so Gabe leaned in to whisper, “I’d never seen a dead body outside of a funeral home before this week.”
Xavier nodded sadly. “I have. They were floating by my roof while I sat there waiting for your dad that night.”
Gabe froze, his heart in his throat. “Oh, Xavier. I’m sorry.”
Xavier shrugged, looking uncomfortable because Burke and Molly had turned in their seats to stare back at him. “It’s fine. I had therapy. I think I’m gonna need a lot more after this.” He grinned lopsidedly. “Maybe you and I can get a two-for-one discount.”
Gabe had to smile, if for no other reason than to reward Xavier for trying to make him feel better. “You’re on.”
“Can you see anything?” Xavier asked Burke, effectively changing the subject. “Any sign of Ducote?”
Burke turned to face forward, then shook his head. “No. Only a few hotel staffers out back in the alley taking a smoking break. The ballroom on the second floor is where they’re having the fundraiser.” Then he tensed. “Sonofabitch.”
The three of them turned in the direction that Burke was staring, and Gabe couldn’t stop the growl that tore from his throat at the sight of the uniformed man walking along Iberville toward the alley behind the hotel. “Cresswell.”
His father’s old boss. The man who’d “accidentally” shown him his father’s body, slumped over the kitchen table where he’d eaten family dinners for most of his life.
The man who believed his father would steal drugs from the evidence locker.
The man who may have even framed his father to look guilty.
Gabe wasn’t aware that he’d opened his door to get out until Molly’s sharp reprimand yanked him back.
“Not now, Gabe. You’ll get your chance. For now, stay with us. We need to stay safe and where Officer McCauley can alibi us if something goes wrong.”
Because André might be in the hotel, arresting Ducote. Or at least taking him in for questioning.
Exhaling hard, Gabe closed the door. “You’re right. I’m sorry.”
Xavier slid a finger under his wig to scratch his head. “I wonder what else André knows. It’s got to be more than a hand-me-down dog if they’re hauling Ducote in, even for questioning.”
“Fuck,” Molly muttered. “Stay calm, Gabe. Cresswell’s coming this way.”
Gabe had to shove his hands in his pockets to keep from balling them into fists. Probably not smart to punch a cop. Even one who deserved it like Cresswell.
And then... everything changed. Cresswell stopped walking, listening to the police radio in his hand. Then he turned on his heel and began walking back toward the rear of the hotel.
Officer McCauley was also listening to his radio and Burke opened his window in time for them to hear a deep voice say, “We have a hostage situation.”
