Hot Pursuit (25 page)

Whining
. If Rivera ordered him to
shoot her between the eyes tomorrow, Julian would do it without a
shred of remorse.

“I need you to get back to the cabin,”
Brianna said before he could ask her how she planned to follow
Rivera’s orders and take care of Evie Baker after they’d gotten the
goods.

Julian stared at her. “What? What’s this
shit? That wasn’t the plan, Bree.”

“I’m changing the plan. Get back there and
watch the girl.”

“You better tell me what’s going on.” He
narrowed his eyes at her, pouring every ounce of meanness he had
into his glare. If she was fucking with him, he’d whack her in a
heartbeat.

“Evie’s not going to give me what she’s got
without some proof her sister’s alive. You need to be there so I
can call.”

“You couldn’t think of this earlier?”

Brianna shrugged. “I did think of it, but it
took me longer than I thought to get back.” She glanced at her
watch. “You’ve got about ten minutes. Better hurry.”

Julian’s gut churned. He shoved the chair
back and got to his feet, glaring down at her. “You can pay for the
food. When this is over, I’m talking to Rivera about you.”

“You do that, Julian. Boat’s wedged into a
spot between two cuddy cabins toward the end.”

“How do you plan on getting back later?”

“I don’t. You’ll bring the girl out. I’ll let
you know.”

“Fuck,” Julian said, then strode through the
doors and down the broad wooden planks. He found the motorboat,
jumped into it, and cranked the engine before turning to untie the
anchor rope. “What do you want?”

A man had appeared out of nowhere and stared
down at him from the dock above.

“Let’s make a deal,” the guy said, stepping
closer. That’s when Julian noticed the gun.

* * *

Charlie’s was on the southern end of town,
about ten minutes away from Reynier’s Retreat. It took Matt less
than five to make the trip. Evie was amazed they didn’t get pulled
over before they got there. The answer to why not, however, sat in
the jammed parking lot. Three of the town’s six police cars were
parked side by side.

Evie swallowed and shot a glance at Matt.

“It’ll be okay.” He sounded calm and cool. It
gave her confidence, though not much.

She just hoped he was right. David’s body had
been found less than twenty-four hours ago and the police were
under pressure to find the killer. And since they wanted to believe
the killer was Evie, in spite of her corroborated alibi, they
weren’t going to be all that nice when she strolled in.

She wasn’t surprised the police were here. In
fact, most of the town wound up at the popular restaurant some time
or another during the week. Nobody could resist the lure of Charlie
Boudreaux’s cooking.

Seeing the place always brought back
memories. How many hot summer nights had she spent at Charlie’s
with her friends? She’d waitressed the summer before her junior
year, fetching iced tea and soda for the customers along with
mile-high po’ boys and steaming bowls of gumbo. Charlie had been
the first person to nurture her cooking talent, to teach her when
to add a pinch of seasoning or a dollop of sauce. And he’d taught
her how to make a creamy roux, which came in darn handy when she
was mastering French sauces under the tutelage of Monsieur
Bertrand.

Charlie’d been happy when she’d gotten
accepted to culinary school, but baffled too. He didn’t understand
why anybody needed to go to school to learn how to cook.
Dat
crazy, ma chère. Wat you want to do dat fo? You know how to cook,
yeah.

When she’d come back to town a month ago,
she’d driven past on the way to Mama’s beauty parlor and been
surprised to see that the once Pepto-Bismol clapboard siding had
faded to a dusty pink over the last few years. Now, in the dark, it
looked almost white. The boxy building sat on stilts over the
water, and a ramp sloped up to the door.

Folks congregated on the ramp, laughing and
talking, some smoking cigarettes, while they either took a break
from the action inside or waited for a table to open up.

Light spilled from the windows, lighting the
first row of cars, while inside a local band jammed. She could feel
its swinging beat, even in the car with the windows rolled up and
the AC going. Charlie’s was a diner, a family place, though they
served beer and wine as well. No one mistook Charlie’s for a rough
and tumble bar. There were always strangers among the regulars,
folks who’d read about the place in a guidebook or heard about it
from friends who’d passed through.

Matt slipped the BMW into a parking spot near
the end of a row and shut off the engine. He glanced toward the
dock and the boats tied up there. “I think, even if we beat our
mystery guest, it’s probably too crowded here tonight to catch
whoever it was. Instead, we’re gonna concentrate on the meeting and
see what we can’t find out that way. You ready for this?”

Evie nodded. “Absolutely.”

“I’m going to poke around outside, see if our
mystery visitor has made it yet. You go in and wait for someone to
make contact.”

“What if they try to force me to leave with
them?”

“I won’t let it happen.”

“I admit I don’t understand this. Why do they
want to meet in such a public place? And how will we know they
really have Sarah?”

“They knew you wouldn’t go anywhere more
remote, so they want to make sure you have the files.” He handed
her the media card. “Don’t give it to them yet. Make them tell you
how they see the exchange happening, and don’t agree to anything
that isn’t within the town limits. Anywhere open and well-lit is
good—a parking lot, for instance. Tell them you want to speak to
Sarah and make sure she’s okay before you agree to anything.”

“All right.”

“They’ll be hoping you’re dumb enough to hand
over the information with only a promise in return, so don’t be
surprised if they suggest it, or even demand it, before agreeing to
let you speak to Sarah.”

Evie snorted. “That’s not happening.”

Matt flashed a smile. “Yeah, I’d say they
aren’t actually acquainted with you or they’d know better.” He
leaned forward and kissed her. “There’s at least three cops in
there—and I’ll be watching carefully—so don’t worry.”

Evie got out of the car and marched up the
ramp. It took a tad longer than she’d like since she had to stop
and speak to everyone she knew. People made sympathetic noises
about Jimmy, about her mother, and her dead partner. Evie thanked
them all, said she didn’t have the faintest idea what was going on,
and kept moving until she reached the doors and finally got
inside.

Don’t worry,
Matt had said. Right.
Evie scanned the crowded restaurant and wished her stomach wasn’t
doing flip turns. The second she walked inside, her mouth started
watering for a bowl of Charlie’s jambalaya. Except she couldn’t
keep any food down right now.

Her gaze snagged on a woman at the back. The
wild blond hair and shape of the nose were familiar. It had to be
an old classmate, but who hadn’t she seen out at the lake last
night? Before she could figure it out, the woman ducked through the
rear door.

“Well, bless my soul if it isn’t little Evie
Baker! Been worried about you, sugar.”

Evie spun to find a pint-size woman smiling
up at her. “Trish!” Evie hugged Charlie’s wife, who was always
ready with a smile and a warm word. “I’m fine, really, but thanks
for worrying.”

Trish frowned. “Heard your mama had a nasty
fall, sugar. And what about that man, hmm? Can you believe it? Who
do you think killed him?”

“I wish I knew.” It wasn’t the first time
tonight Evie had said it.

Trish talked a mile a minute and hardly
waited for her questions to be answered before zooming ahead. “I
heard he was your ex-boyfriend and he stole a lot of money from
you.”

Evie nodded. She’d been hoping to keep the
circumstances of her return to Rochambeau secret, but of course
that was all finished once David showed up and got himself killed.
It was bad enough to feel like a failure to yourself. To have
everyone else know you were a failure was a different story
altogether.

And yet that was nothing compared to the fact
David was dead. She may have hated him for what he’d done to her
dreams, but there’d been a time when she’d liked him. When he’d
made her laugh.

“Yes, he stole from me. I don’t know why he
was here, though.”

Trish swatted her with a napkin. “Probably
wanted to beg your forgiveness. Just look at you. You’ve grown into
quite the lovely thing, haven’t you?” She popped her hands on her
ample hips. “So what’s it gonna be tonight? Meeting anyone? How
about that handsome Matt Girard, hmm?”

Evie’s face was hot. Great, now she was
blushing over Matt Girard. “I’m expecting someone to come talk to
me about a job.”

A lie, but at least it would explain why she
was talking to a stranger. She just hoped Trish didn’t question why
someone would come to Rochambeau to interview her.

As hoped, Trish sailed right on by that
little snag. “Oh honey, you could always come work here. Charlie
would love to have you.”

Evie’s smile was genuine. There were a lot of
good people in Rochambeau. Times like this, she felt guilty for
wanting to escape. “I’ll think about it.”

“You do that. Now let’s get you a place to
sit,
chère
.” Trish hurried her to a table and plopped down a
menu and a basket of corn fritters she’d acquired along the way.
“I’m rushed off my tootsies tonight. But you be sure to come back
and say hello to Charlie before you leave. He’s always happy to see
you.”

Evie promised she’d do just that. When Trish
walked away, she scanned the crowd again. She recognized a few
faces, though no one who felt it their immediate duty to come over
and talk to her. Missy Sue waved and motioned her over. Evie
pointed at the seat in front of her, indicating she was waiting for
someone, and shrugged. Missy Sue nodded and mouthed, “Later
then.”

Evie glanced at the table of cops. They
hadn’t yet noticed her, and for that she was thankful. She
pretended to study the menu—as if she didn’t already know it by
heart since Charlie hadn’t changed it in twenty years—and watched
the doors for newcomers. There were a few people she didn’t
recognize, but no one paid any attention to her beyond a glance and
a whispered conversation here and there. No doubt they all knew
about David’s murder and were speculating whether or not she could
be a stone-cold killer.

Evie recognized a man moving through the
crowd and suppressed a groan. Oh God, not now. Detective Proctor
sighted her and changed course. She set the menu down very
carefully and composed a smile for him.

“Heard your mama’s doing well,” he said.

“Yes, thank you.”

“You hear from that sister of yours yet?”

Evie’s heart thudded into her throat.
Wouldn’t it be good to have the police on their side? Cops had
resources they could mobilize in a heartbeat to find Sarah. But the
people who had Sarah were professional killers, as Matt said, and
they wouldn’t hesitate to follow through on their threats if the
police got involved. And Matt’s resources seemed to be pretty good
if the work they’d done on the media card was any indication.

Evie swallowed. “Um, yes. She went to a
friend’s house.”

He nodded, his expression somewhat smug.
“Thought so.”

Anger flashed through her in spite of the
fact she should be relieved they weren’t digging any deeper.
“Weren’t you supposed to be questioning her friends? Making sure
she wasn’t missing?”

“Twenty-five years’ experience tells me she
went somewhere to pout after the fight with her boyfriend. I don’t
have the leisure time to chase after a teenager in a snit when
there’s a murderer on the loose.”

His look was pointed. Evie picked up the menu
again, fiddling with it. “Then don’t let me keep you from finding
that person, Detective Proctor.”

He tapped the back of the empty chair facing
her. “Don’t worry, Miss Baker, you won’t.”

When he walked away, Evie resisted the urge
to drop her head into her hands. She drew in a deep breath. This
was
insane
. She was a chef—a broke, unemployed chef—waiting
to meet with ruthless mob thugs in a public restaurant while the
police sat fifteen feet away and didn’t have a clue. It was almost
too ridiculous to be real. If not for that picture of Sarah, she
wouldn’t believe it was.

Her phone chimed and she answered without
checking the display. She already knew what it would say:
unknown.

“Meet me on the dock.” A woman’s voice, ten
minutes early.

“I’d rather not. Come inside.”

“Too crowded. The police don’t boost my
confidence any. You wouldn’t have been dumb enough to tell them,
would you?”

“No! Charlie’s is a popular spot in
Rochambeau. Everyone comes here.”

“Outside, Evie.”

Something in the woman’s voice as she said
Evie’s name registered in the recesses of her brain and dredged up
a memory. “Brianna Sweeney?”

“Aren’t you clever? Now get out here.” The
phone went dead.

Evie’s temples throbbed. Brianna? Her
bartender? The woman had worked at Evangeline’s for about four
months. Bree’d had a boyfriend—Julian, a big, muscular dude who
looked mean enough to eat a helping of railroad spikes for
breakfast. The two of them had left shortly after David, but she
hadn’t thought anything of it at the time. Staff always came and
went in the restaurant business. Besides, she’d lost several
servers in the days after David stole the payroll.

Yet it now looked as if Brianna was more than
she’d seemed.

Evie punched in Matt’s number. A second
later, he answered.

“They want me to come out on the dock.”

“Go ahead, I’ve got your six. Don’t go any
farther than the first landing.”