Showdown in Mudbug (15 page)

Hank felt his blood start to boil. He was going to blow it. He was going to throttle Rico Hebert to death right there in the street, and God help him, there wasn’t a thing he could do to stop it.

“Hank.” Chuck’s voice sounded behind him.

Hank spun around and saw Chuck getting out of his truck just a few yards away from where he stood. It momentarily unnerved Hank that he’d been so focused on killing Rico that he hadn’t even heard Chuck’s truck pull up behind him. “Hi, Chuck.”

Chuck glanced over at Rico, and Hank could tell he didn’t like what he saw. “Is there a problem?” Chuck asked.

“No problem,” Rico said. “I was just asking for directions.” He nodded at Hank. “Thanks for the help.”

Hank watched as Rico jumped in his car and drove away, then turned to face Chuck. “Sorry about that. Guy was a little weird. I think he was hopped up on something.”

Chuck studied Hank’s face for a couple of seconds, and Hank could tell he wasn’t completely convinced. Finally, he nodded. “I just came by to drop off the rest of the front-office designs.” He handed a tube to Hank. “Might as well give them to you. It’s the front-desk layout and the ideas you came up with for furniture in the lobby. Great stuff, by the way.”

“Thanks. It’s hard to believe I actually get paid for this. This is fun.”

Chuck nodded. “Shows in your work, too. I tell you, it’s a rare person that finds they can make a living at something they love. You and me are lucky men,
Hank.” He looked over at the clinic. “You done for the day?”

“Not quite yet. I have one more cabinet to stain. I wanted to get one coat on all of them today, so I can finish them tomorrow.”

Chuck clasped one hand on Hank’s shoulder. “Sounds good. I’ll see you tomorrow morning for the walk-through with Lila.”

“Yes, sir,” Hank said as Chuck walked to his truck and hopped inside.

Hank waved as Chuck pulled away from the curb, then crossed the street to the clinic. Maybe another hour and he’d be done for the eve ning. Then he could go home and figure out what the hell had motivated him to ask Lila on a date. If he couldn’t come up with any reasonable explanation for canceling besides being scared, which wasn’t exactly something a man liked to admit, then he was going to have to call Maryse and ask for a restaurant recommendation. And what to wear. Jesus, dating was filled with difficulty.

He closed the front door to the clinic behind him and locked it just in case Rico was lurking anywhere nearby. He didn’t doubt the thug would plow right through a locked door if he really wanted what was on the other side, but at least Hank would hear him coming. He headed down the hall to the last room in the clinic. He’d been using that room to assemble and finish the cabinets, and his first masterpiece was resting in the center of the room, all stained except for the corner unit. He grabbed his can of stain and paintbrush and got to work on the cabinet facing.

Hank heard the intruder as soon as he entered the building. He probably thought he was being quiet, but the click of the front door lock releasing echoed straight through the silence of the clinic. Hank grabbed a
screwdriver from his toolbox and slipped behind the row of cabinets he was working on. He paused one second, two seconds, trying to figure out where the person was, but there was only silence.

He edged away from the cabinets and pressed himself flat against the wall, then crept down the hall until he reached the doorway. He peered around, but the hallway was empty, and he couldn’t detect the sound of another person moving around inside the building at all. But he knew what he’d heard, and the hair standing up on the back of his neck told him he hadn’t been wrong. He was a lot of things, but fanciful wasn’t one of them.

For the first time in a long time, he wished he’d broken the law and bought a handgun. He’d hoped it wouldn’t be necessary, but that had been a foolish thought. Battling whoever was out there with a screwdriver didn’t seem like the best option, but he couldn’t think of another one.

He waited a couple of seconds but didn’t see or hear a thing. Finally, he slipped out of the room and down the hall, careful to avoid stepping on anything that would give away his position. He peeked into each room as he passed, but they were empty. When he reached the lobby, he peered around the corner from the hallway and scanned the room. The door was shut, but he could see it was unlocked.

Had the intruder been a common thief, looking for construction-site tools? Maybe he’d left after hearing Hank in the back. That must be it. Hank crossed the lobby and opened the front door. The lawn and street in front of the clinic was empty, and the only cars on the street were those he’d seen earlier in the day. Absolutely nothing seemed out of place. Letting out a sigh of relief, he closed the door and locked it.

When he felt the sting of the needle, he immediately knew he’d grossly miscalculated.

The intruder must have been hiding behind the frame for the front desk, and whatever he’d been stuck with was making him woozy. Hank turned, trying to get a good look at his attacker, but the last thing he saw before crashing to the floor was two huge eyes and a bug-shaped face staring back at him.

Raissa closed the folder she’d been studying and tossed it onto her hotel-room bed. Maryse looked up from a set of paperwork. “Frustrated?”

“To say the least. Six hours of combing these files, and nothing. There has to be something those girls have in common besides looks. Why would anyone go to such lengths to abduct them and return them for no good reason?”

Maryse nodded. “There’s a reason. We’re just not seeing it. I keep waiting to hear about a ransom note, given the last girl was the mayor’s granddaughter, but if there’s been one, it’s being kept really secret.”

“Zach would have told me if there had been a ransom request. It would change everything.”

Maryse cocked her head to the side and studied Raissa for a couple of seconds. “So, you want to talk about your relationship with Just One, or do I have to leave it all to my very vivid and creative imagination?”

“It’s not a relationship, so there’s really nothing to talk about.”

Maryse raised her eyebrows. “Looked relationshippy to me when I walked in on you two naked. I couldn’t help but notice the cleared area on one of the folding tables
and
that the bed wasn’t rumpled in the least. That says something.”

“
That
says hot, wild sex, and that’s all there is to it.”

“You sure?”

Raissa sighed. “How can I not be? Even if this all
turns out for the best, and Melissa is safely back with her parents—even if the kidnapper is caught and jailed—that doesn’t remove my biggest threat. As soon as this is over, I’ll have to leave, whether the FBI takes part in it or not. I’m not safe in New Orleans any longer, and if I stay, I put everyone I care about at risk.”

Maryse frowned. “So can you just not testify?”

Raissa shrugged. “They can subpoena me anyway. Then the price of freedom would be lying under oath, and that’s
if
I manage to make it to court alive, which is questionable, given the FBI’s inability to protect me in the past.”

“That sucks, but it’s only for another six months, right? I mean you could hide out until the statute of limitations has passed, and then you’re in the clear.”

“If Sonny lets it go. Remember, I was his confidante for two years. He chose me. He trusted me. This isn’t just business for him—it’s personal.”

“But wouldn’t your death just bring the heat on him all over again? I mean, if you’ve passed the time limit on what you could testify to, doesn’t it make more sense to just leave you alone?”

“Mob business isn’t always about common sense, although I have to admit that Sonny’s more controlled than most. But six months is still a long time. Long enough for people to realize what they had was a flash in the pan due to a highly emotional situation. Six months after the fact, all that emotion and stress is gone. Things are normal.”

“So what makes you think you and Zach can’t do normal?”

Raissa laughed. “I don’t know the first thing about normal, and I get the impression that Zach is trying to manage it but failing dreadfully. My less-than-conventional
ways of handling things would only make things tougher for him, especially given his job. His captain is already watching him closely and if he knew half of the things Zach’s already done for me against orders, he’d be fired in a heartbeat. I’m a huge liability, no matter what.”

“Do you think you’ll ever go back to law enforcement?”

“I will never go back to the FBI, and based on Zach’s description, the police department appears a bit too stringent for my methods, too. But I have to admit that even though this entire situation with the abductions is very serious, I find myself enjoying it on some level.”

Maryse nodded. “It’s like my research. Even though I’ve lost people I love to cancer, I can’t help getting excited when I’m working. The disease is still out there, and it’s still killing people, but I get a personal thrill from things that would appear very minor to anyone else. A guilty pleasure, almost.”

“Exactly. And don’t get me wrong, between my business and the security gigs, I still got to use some of those skills—the hacking, surveillance. It was all part of the game, but it’s not the same as doing it full-time and in the open.”

“Maybe you should go solo, like Beau. Heck, he may even consider a partnership of some sort. You two would be a deadly combination.”

Raissa momentarily considered Sabine’s husband, Beau, and his private-investigation service. It wasn’t the worst idea she’d ever heard, even if she did it alone in another state with another name. Despite what was logical, Raissa still doubted her ability to remain in New Orleans much longer or to ever return. It was simply too dangerous for everyone around her, but the
last thing she wanted to do was press Maryse to accept that when they were up to their neck in things. “It’s a thought.”

“Did you ever have anyone to rely on, or who was dependent on you before? I mean, I figured if you did, they’d either have to go into protective custody with you or you’d have to leave them, right?”

Raissa nodded. “Those are the choices, but fortunately for me, my parents were already gone before I went undercover. I was so focused through high school and college, I didn’t give men a second thought.” She stared past Maryse and looked out the hotel-room window. “There was a guy once. We met at the FBI Academy.”

“What happened?”

“He died.”

Maryse’s eyes widened. “Oh, wow. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to bring up anything bad.”

“You didn’t. My relationship with him was all good. He was a great guy—dedicated to his job and an assortment of nieces and nephews. Sturdy, but not in a boring way, you know?”

Maryse nodded.

“He was interesting and funny and I really enjoyed spending time with him. He always made me laugh, even when the academy training was getting the best of me.”

“What happened?”

“He was on a special task force for missing kids.”

Maryse gasped. “The missing girls…that’s how you knew about the cases. He was the agent on them.”

Raissa nodded, her mind flashing back to the night Ben had told her about his case. “We met at an all-night diner, in a part of town that Sonny’s men wouldn’t be likely to enter. Ben had flown in from D.C. for the
day—that’s all the time he could afford to take off. The latest kidnapping had happened two days before, and he wanted my advice.”

“And he wanted to see you.”

“Probably. I’d been under over a year and a half by then. We’d only seen each other four times since I’d gone undercover, but I still wanted to jump him right there on that table in the diner.”

Maryse smiled. “You two were good together.”

“I’d like to think so.”

“So did he get killed investigating the kidnappings?”

“No. That’s the worst part of the whole thing. A drunk driver hit his taxi on the way home from the airport. That cheap, greasy dinner in a rundown café was the last time I got to spend with him.”

Maryse placed her hand on Raissa’s arm. “I am so sorry.”

“One of life’s ironies, right? He spent every day of his life putting himself at risk, and everything was cut short by a drunk. What a waste.”

Maryse nodded.

“It just makes you think twice, you know? About how no matter what, you’re never really safe. And then with our job, we were at risk even more than regular people. Makes you think hard about getting involved again.”

“If Sabine could take that risk, then you can, too.”

Raissa sighed. “Fortunately, I don’t have to think about it. I can’t say for certain how Zach feels, but I seriously doubt he’s mentally picking out matching luggage. I’m a temporary distraction during a temporary situation, and soon I’ll be gone. No risk at all.” She picked up another folder and started to read.

“Your parents…were they still alive when you went into the FBI?”

“No. My dad died when I was eight. He was a fighter pilot and died in a training accident testing new aircraft. My mother passed my last year of college. Congestive heart failure. It ran in her family, and after my dad died, she never really took care of herself. She just sorta faded away.”

“That sucks, but at least you have some good memories.” Maryse stared down at the folder in her hands.

“I do,” Raissa said, her heart going out to her friend. Maryse had never known her mother. She’d died when Maryse was too young to remember her. So, despite all the regrets and blame Raissa might fling at her mother, Maryse was right—there were still years of good memories she could draw on.

Maryse looked up at Raissa, her brow scrunched in thought. “What about the parents?”

“I just told you about my parents.”

“No, sorry. Not your parents, the girls’. Maybe it’s the parents who have something in common.”

Raissa thought about all the families. “Well, they all live in different states. Until now, there were no political affiliations.”

“Professions?”

Raissa slowly shook her head. “All your basic blue-collar type work. A mechanic, a fireman, a fisherman…I can’t see how that has anything to do with—”

Maryse waved a hand. “Before. What about before they were firemen and fishermen and all that?”

Raissa picked up a file and scanned the history. “All I’ve got here is a couple of years before the kidnappings. I don’t know that anyone went back further, as kidnappers rarely need that long to plan. Why? What are you thinking?”

“I don’t know. I mean, it’s not likely they met in college,
given the professions, but what about the military? Did anyone ever ask them if they knew the other families?”

Raissa stared at Maryse. “I don’t think so. There’s no record of it, anyway.”

Maryse frowned. “I suppose we’d go directly to jail if you hacked the military, right?

Raissa smiled. “Oh, yeah, but don’t worry, I’ve got a better idea.”

“What’s that?”

“The Social Security Administration.” Raissa reached for a spare laptop and Mildred’s car keys.

Maryse sighed. “Yeah, much safer.”

“Actually, it is. They have simply horrible security.”

“There’s a pleasant thought.” Maryse placed a hand on Raissa’s arm. “Let’s try it my way first.”

“Your way? Maryse, you’ve been holding out on me?”

Maryse grabbed one of the spare laptops and plopped back on the bed. “Hardly,” she said, and started typing. “Give me the father of the first girl.”

Raissa picked up the file and read the name.

Maryse tapped on the keyboard, hit enter, scrolled a bit, and clicked the mouse. She looked up at Raissa with a triumphant smile and turned the laptop toward her.

Raissa leaned over and stared in amazement. “Facebook? Your big investigative trick is Facebook?”

Maryse nodded and tapped the screen. “Look at the history. He’s listed everyplace he ever worked, including his military service. When his wife got pregnant, they were stationed in North Carolina.” Maryse turned the laptop around and waved a hand at Raissa. “Give me another name.”

Raissa grinned and picked up the file. The young
dog had just taught the old dog a new trick. She’d opened the file to read off the name when the computer next to her started beeping.

Maryse looked up in alarm. “What is it?”

“It’s the bug in Sonny’s house.” Raissa tapped some keys on the keyboard and Sonny’s voice boomed out of the laptop.

“Damn it!” he yelled. “Why haven’t you brought me anything? What the hell are you waiting for?”

“Taylor or Raissa, whatever she calls herself now,” another guy said.

“Forget her,” Sonny said. “Have any of you found out anything at all about that kidnapping?”

There was silence for a couple of seconds, then finally another guy said, “There’s no word on the street, Sonny. That kid wasn’t taken by anyone we know or have business ties with. Maybe it’s just some perv, you know?”

“Get out,” Sonny said. “Except you, Rico.”

They heard the door click shut and then someone sighed.

“I don’t like this,” Sonny said.

“Neither do I, but the guys are right. This wasn’t any of our associates or competitors. They’re baffled we’re even asking.”

“I want to know what Monk Marsella involved this family in.”

“Does it really matter, now? I mean, Monk’s been gone for months now.”

“Yeah, it matters,” Sonny said, “because I want to know what was so important that it got him killed, and why it’s happening again. Don’t tell me the cases aren’t related.”

“I’m not saying that. Our sources indicate the police are looking into the old cases as well. They’ve made
the connection. Probably from Taylor. She’s a problem, you know. I think you ought to let me take care of her.”

“No. If anyone can figure out what’s going on, it’s her. She’s brilliant, or she’d never have fooled me. Leave her to work with the police. They’ll never figure this out without help, and time’s running out.”

“You going soft, Sonny? This really ain’t none of our business.”

“Watch what you’re saying, Rico. I ain’t soft, but this is a kid we’re talking about. We don’t deal in wives, and we damned sure don’t deal in kids. You know the rules. You want this family associated with whatever perverted shit is probably being done to those girls?”

“No, I suppose not.”

“What about Hank Henry?”

“Ain’t nothing going on there that I can see,” Rico said. “I’ve been watching him close like, but he only goes to work and home. Ain’t nobody else hassling him or anything.”

“Keep watching. I’m sure that’s the name Monk said before he died. If Hank isn’t doing anything, then he must know something.”

“Maybe, or maybe Monk just thought he did. The guy wasn’t all that bright, you know?”

“Yeah, but it doesn’t take smarts to run up on something bad,” Sonny said. “Keep checking on Taylor, too, but you do not have authority to move on her, got it?”

“I got it, for now. But afterward…when this circus is over?”

“I’ll deal with it then.”

There was some shuffling and the door opening and closing, then silence. Maryse looked over at Raissa, her eyes wide.

“What in the world is Hank involved in now?” Maryse asked.

“I don’t know, and I’m willing to bet Hank doesn’t know, either. Apparently he’s mixed up in something to do with Monk, but even Hank doesn’t know what.”