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11
The Quarter, New Orleans, Louisiana
TUESDAY, JULY 26, 3:45 P.M.
Xavier thought he was going to throw up. Because I killed someone.
I am a killer.
“Whoa,” Molly said. “Let’s start at the beginning. Tell us everything. We’ll help you.”
He hoped that meant that they’d help him stay out of prison.
“You can’t tell the cops,” Cicely insisted. “They’ll never believe him.”
“We will keep your son safe,” Burke promised. “We have friends in NOPD, but I left for a reason. I get your concerns. For now, do as Molly’s asked. Tell us everything.”
“Maybe he needs a break,” Gabe said, sounding protective. That was one-eighty from where the man had been when he’d first walked through the door. Because he thought that I was Rocky’s secret son.
Poor Gabe. I’d have been upset, too.
Youare upset.
Yeah, but because of whatI did. Not what Rocky did.
“Xavier?” Molly asked gently. “Do you need a break?”
“No, ma’am.” His voice sounded rusty to his own ears. He cleared his throat. “But I wish that I hadn’t eaten so much lunch.”
Carlos got up, found a wastebasket in the corner, and set it down between them before retaking his seat. “Just in case.”
Love for his best friend welled up in his heart. “Pendejo,” Xavier muttered.
“At your service,” Carlos joked, but his eyes were deadly serious.
Xavier took strength from the hand Carlos clasped around the back of his neck. “So. Last night.”
He told them the whole story, from seeing the car to hearing the noise, to escaping through the window. To shooting the white man.
“Then we ran,” he finished with a shrug. “When we got back to my house the next morning with whoever was pretending to be Paul Lott, the body was gone.”
“Then how do you know the man is dead?” Molly asked. “Maybe he was able to leave your house on his own.”
“He was,” Cicely said tersely. “He drove himself to the ER. I... made some calls.”
“And you found out that he was dead,” Gabe finished.
His mother nodded, distrust in her eyes. She was poised at the edge of her seat, like she was ready to run away with her son right now. “My friend who’s a nurse on another floor of the hospital checked for me. I’d been asking about anyone who’d come in with a gunshot wound the night before. It took a while because we didn’t have a name or a real description. But this guy checked himself into the ER about thirty minutes after he tried to kill Xavier. He didn’t have any ID or insurance. They rushed him into surgery and the doctor felt good about his chances, but the man died this morning at around ten o’clock.”
“You killed him in self-defense, Xavier,” Gabe said. “You protected yourself and Carlos—and he’s your family. I won’t tell anyone.”
“Nor I.” Molly lifted her hand as if taking an oath. “I’ll vouch for you if anyone finds out.”
“Same,” Burke said. “Let us do some checking. We need to know who that man was. Did he have a gun?”
“He did,” Carlos said. “I saw it in his hand when he grabbed Xavier’s shirt. He had his gun out, ready to shoot.” He shook his head, his voice going hoarse. “I was on the ground already. All I had was a stupid baseball bat and a golf club. I couldn’t do a thing to help.”
Xavier put his arm around Carlos and hugged him to his side. “You got me out of there once I dropped out of the tree. You ran with me, made me run faster, kept me calm. And then you called Manny. You saved me.”
