Showdown in Mudbug (19 page)

“Don’t call me again. When I can handle it, I’ll call you.”

Forty minutes later, Zach was perched on a hard chair covered in hideous fabric and sipping tea from china cups with Magdalena LeBlanc, Susannah Forrester’s old friend and neighbor. Zach took a sip of the tea and tried not to grimace. Why in the world did people actually like that crap? “So, Ms. LeBlanc, did Susannah have any children?”

“Oh, heavens, no. Susannah was an old maid, like me. That’s why we were such fabulous friends. Neither of us had others to answer to once our parents passed away. Why, we were fancy-free and living the life.”

Zach smiled. “Sounds like a good life.”

“Oh, it was the best, up until Susannah got sick. Breast cancer. Wasn’t testing then like there is today. Why, she just wasted away. It’s such a shame.”

“I’m very sorry to hear that. I’m sure you miss her.”

“Every single day. So tell me, what’s a New Orleans detective doing all the way out in the boonies asking about Susannah?”

“Her name came up in a case I’m working on as a possible relative to a suspect. I thought maybe if she had kids…But looks like I’m out of luck.”

“She never had her own kids, but she had a niece she
was very fond of. Used to send her money from time to time.”

“Do you remember the niece’s name?”

“Annabelle was her name. Annabelle Forrester. Her father was Susannah’s brother, who died in the war.”

“Did Annabelle have any children?”

“Oh, I don’t know. After Susannah passed away, I never saw her again. She’d just recently married before Susannah’s death, but I don’t recall anyone telling me the young man’s name. I’m really sorry I can’t be more help.”

Zach rose from his chair and took her hands in his. “You’ve been a great help, Ms. LeBlanc. Thank you for your time and the tea.”

Zach left the house and hopped into his car. If Annabelle Forrester had married and had a child, she might have named that child after her favorite aunt. He’d passed the court house on the way into town. He’d try to find a marriage license and birth record there.

Raissa burst into her hotel room and ran straight to the laptop linked to Sonny’s house. She sat down at the table and clicked to start the audio file. Sonny’s voice was the first thing she heard.

“How the hell could you let this happen, Rico?” Sonny yelled. “You were supposed to stay on Hank Henry until I said otherwise.”

“I
was
on Hank. He went back inside the work site. I had the GPS on his truck, so I drove around the block and picked up something to eat. I wasn’t even gone ten minutes.”

“Apparently, ten minutes is all it took for him to disappear. You are going to make this right, Rico.”

“How am I supposed to do that?”

“You’re going to put out word to every family member, bookie, prostitute, and bum in New Orleans that we’re looking for Hank. Someone had to see something. If anyone gives you information that leads us to Henry, I’ll pay ten g’s.”

“Ten grand for Hank Henry? You gotta be kidding me.”

“Just do it, Rico.”

The sound of the door shutting echoed over the computer; then Raissa heard Sonny slam his hands down on his desk, as she’d seen him do so many times. And that was all of the recording.

She checked the time—four hours before. Sonny’s guys had a four-hour jump on trying to locate Hank.
Not that it mattered. Raissa didn’t have the network that Sonny had. But why did Sonny want him so badly? There had to be a reason, but damned if Raissa could come up with anything that made sense.

She needed her files, and they were in the trunk of Mildred’s car. Surely there was something in those files that would connect the dots. They were so close. Raissa could feel it. She checked the monitors, but all she saw in the alley was the city garbage truck, making its weekly pickup. She grabbed Mildred’s car keys and headed out the back of the hotel, pulling the door shut behind her. The sun was already setting behind the row of cypress trees on the west side of town, reducing the sunlight to a dim glow on the alley between the hotel and the garage.

She hurried across the alley in front of the garbage truck and slipped the garage key into the lock. The garbage truck passed and she heard the footsteps behind her, but before she could reach for her weapon, a hand grabbed her shoulder and spun her around. Looking directly at Sonny Hebert, Raissa realized she’d made the miscalculation that might cost her her life.

“Don’t yell,” he said in a low voice. “I can’t afford for anyone else to notice me. I’m sure the garbageman already thinks I’m crazy for following that stinking truck down the alley, but I knew if you were staying here you’d have cameras.”

Raissa nodded, her heart pounding as if it would beat out of her chest. She wondered if this was how it was all going to end—in an alley behind the Mudbug Hotel.

“I hear a friend of yours is missing,” Sonny said. “He’s in a warehouse on Canal Street. A brown building with blue stripes. You’ve got about two hours before he’s removed.”

“Removed?”

Sonny glanced nervously over his shoulder. “Yeah, and I’m afraid this time might be permanent.”

“This time?”

“Shhhh. I can’t tell you everything, because I don’t know all of it. What I do know is if you want to see him again, you better get over there now.” He whirled around, hurried down the alley. A couple of seconds later a nondescript late-model sedan passed the end of the alley, with Sonny at the wheel. He barely slowed and cast one glance at her, then drove away.

Raissa dug into her pocket for her cell phone. She didn’t realize her hands were shaking until she pressed in Zach’s name. “I’m going to a warehouse building on Canal Street. One with blue stripes. I just got a tip that Hank Henry is being held there, but we have to move fast to get him.” Raissa jumped into her car and fired up the engine.

“What the hell?” Zach said. “Where did you get this tip?”

“Sonny Hebert,” Raissa said as she hopped into her car and pulled away from the curb, her tires screeching. “And since I’m still alive I can only assume he’s not interested in killing me. At least not right now.”

“How do you know the whole thing isn’t a setup to get you somewhere that he can kill you?”

“I don’t, which is why I need you to meet me there. I’ll be there in forty-five minutes.”

“No fucking way! I’m more than forty-five minutes away. Don’t go there, Raissa.”

“Too late, I’m already on my way. Your choice, Detective.” She disconnected the call and pressed the accelerator. Her cell phone buzzed at her from the passenger’s seat, but she let it ring, choosing to concentrate on driving well beyond the speed limit without killing herself.
Zach would be there. He wouldn’t let her walk into something she might not walk out of.

She hoped.

Zach cursed when Raissa disconnected, and it was all he could do not to fling the phone against a wall. Not that he could afford to do that at the moment. Likely he was going to need it soon to call for backup, an ambulance, or the coroner. He was about an hour outside of Baton Rouge, which put him at almost the same distance from the warehouse as Raissa, but already behind her in travel time.

The county clerk who’d been helping him locate documents slid a couple of sheets of paper across the counter toward him. “These are the rec ords you were looking for, Detective Blanchard. Do you want to pay the fifty cents or would you like me to bill the New Orleans police department?”

Zach punched in Raissa’s number and waited until it went to voice mail. “Damn it!”

The clerk stared at him in surprise.

“I’m sorry,” he apologized, “but I have an emergency.” He tossed a five-dollar bill on the counter for the copies, grabbed the papers, and ran out the door, yanking his keys from his pocket as he crossed the street. He tore out of the parking lot and was doing eighty miles per hour by the time he hit the interstate.

He dialed the station. “Captain, I need backup to a warehouse with blue stripes on Canal Street. I got a tip that Hank Henry is being held there.”

“Where on Canal Street?”

“I don’t know.”

“Damn it. That street’s miles long.”

“Tell them to start on the north side. I’ll start on the south.” He dropped the cell phone into the passenger’s
seat, and only then did he remember the copies. He grabbed them from the passenger’s seat and looked at them. The first was a marriage license for Annabelle Forrester and Franklin Marsella. The second was a birth certificate for Susannah Forrester Marsella. Too much of a coincidence not to somehow be related to the missing Monk.

Zach felt his blood run cold. The mayor’s daughter-in-law was the Hebert connection, not the mayor. He reached for his cell phone, ready to call the captain back with this bit of information, but stopped. The captain had already made it clear he didn’t want more clues with no connecting dots, and right now, keeping Raissa safe was his priority. He’d tell the captain about his suspicions concerning the mayor’s daughter-in-law once he’d made sure Raissa was okay and they’d found Hank Henry. He pressed the accelerator down even farther and prayed that he got to the warehouse in time.

Thirty-five minutes later, he turned the corner on the south end of Canal Street, frantically scanning the street for any sign of Raissa. He felt a wave of relief when he saw Mildred’s car parked in front of a warehouse building just like the one she’d described, but Raissa was nowhere in sight. He jumped out of his car, pulled out his weapon, and hurried toward the warehouse entrance, scanning the street as he went. There were no other cars in sight and the entire area seemed completely abandoned.

The perfect place to commit a crime.

He slipped through the open door and looked down at the dusty floor. Prints led in different directions, but the majority broke off to the right. He crept down a long hallway, following the footprints, checking each room as he passed an open doorway. At the end of the
warehouse, he looked into the last room and felt relief wash over him when he saw a very alive Raissa. Then a closer look revealed her hovering over a not-so-alive-looking Hank Henry, and his pulse began to race again.

Raissa looked up as he entered the room. “I’ve already called an ambulance. They should be here any minute.”

Zach looked down at the pale man laid out on what appeared to be a hospital gurney. “He’s alive?”

“Yeah, but I think he’s drugged or something, and he looks really weak. Give me your handcuff key.”

Zach looked confused for a moment until Raissa lifted Hank’s right hand. He was handcuffed to the bed. Zach passed his key ring to Raissa and began to walk the room. “Did you see anyone when you got here?”

“No one. The street was as empty as the warehouse. But he didn’t get here, chained to a hospital bed, by himself.”

“No. Definitely not.” Zach ran one hand across a window seal, then looked down at the floor and frowned. “This room has been cleaned. Spotless, as a matter of fact.”

Raissa nodded. “Yeah, I noticed that. They’re careful.”

Zach shook his head. “You don’t have to disinfect a room to remove prints, and I doubt even the best forensics team would find much, given the dust in the rest of the building.”

“I don’t think it was to erase evidence.”

Zach looked over at her. “Why else then?”

Raissa looked down at Hank and bit her lip. “I think he’s in a hospital bed for a reason. I think maybe they were going to do something to him. Medically.”

Zach stared. “You think someone sterilized this room to perform a medical procedure? Jesus, does he have any incisions?” Theft of body organs was fairly rare, but it still happened.

“No incisions. It’s the first thing I checked. It looks like everything is intact.” Raissa looked up at Zach, a grim look on her face. “Maybe they hadn’t gotten to the surgery part yet. Maybe that’s what Sonny meant when he told me Hank would be removed.”

Zach felt his face flush with anger. “Sonny Hebert has some explaining to do. I ought to go arrest him, now.”

“Don’t.”

“Give me one good reason why not.”

“I overheard a conversation between Sonny and Rico. Sonny’s men put word out on the street this morning that Sonny would pay ten grand if anyone could tell him where Hank was.”

“Why would he offer the money, then tell you?”

“I don’t know. But I get the impression that Sonny knows or at least suspects something about what’s going on here, though he isn’t involved. Not directly, anyway. Even if that’s the case, he took a big risk telling me where to find Hank, which tells me that whatever is going on is too reprehensible for even Sonny to let pass. He may be the only person who can lead us to the answer. If you lock him up, he won’t be able to instruct his men.”

“I can damn well demand the answer.”

Raissa shook her head. “Strong-arming Sonny is the fastest way to get him to dig in his heels. He has to think he’s running the show. It’s the only way he operates. If you put the pressure on him, he’ll back out of this whole mess, and I don’t know what might happen then. To Melissa.”

“Yeah, that’s the part that worries me the most.” Zach told Raissa about the marriage license and birth certificate.

Raissa stared at him, stunned. “Susannah Franco is related to Monk Marsella? So Monk was kidnapping the girls, and Susannah is related to Monk. But now Monk’s gone and so is Susannah’s daughter. What are we missing here?”

“I don’t know. Damn it!” Zach paced back and forth across the room. “Do you think Sonny knows what happened to Melissa?”

“I think he has suspicions, but I don’t think he knows where to find her. Sonny would never tolerate someone hurting a child.”

“Great. A mobster with morals.”

“I know how much you hate it, Zach, but you have to trust me on this one. I
know
Sonny Hebert, better than most people. You can’t force him into anything or you’ll lose. For whatever reason, he’s looking into this kidnapping, and I have to tell you, he’s likely to get results faster than we can.”

Sirens sounded outside the warehouse and Zach glanced outside to see the paramedics hurrying into the building. “Back here!” he shouted, and waved them to the back room.

He looked over at Raissa, who stood to the side while the paramedics loaded Hank onto the gurney. Her expression was filled with fear and worry. Not that he blamed her. This case had thrown him more curveballs than opening day at Yankee Stadium.

Alien kidnappings, fugitive FBI agents, unauthorized medical procedures, and Sonny Hebert being helpful.

What the hell had they gotten involved in?

Dr. Breaux was leaving Hank’s room as Raissa and Zach made their way down the hall. Raissa closed her cell phone, having just finished telling Maryse to spread the word that Hank had been found and was safe, and that she’d call back as soon as she’d spoken with Dr. Breaux. Zach flashed his badge and Dr. Breaux nodded and motioned them over to the side.

“I’m Dr. Breaux,” he said, and extended his hand to Zach. He nodded at Raissa. “Good to see you again, Raissa. I hear Sabine returns tomorrow.”

“I’m looking forward to it. How’s Hank?”

“Fine. In fact, he’s in excellent condition. I can’t find any indication of trauma—his vital signs are perfect. I don’t understand what’s going on here. Can you tell me anything?”

Raissa hesitated. She looked over at Zach, who took over. “All we really know, sir, is that Hank was reported missing from his job this morning but was likely taken sometime yesterday evening. As for what happened after that, we were hoping you might give us a clue.”

“His medical condition doesn’t tell me anything at all. There’s a small puncture mark on his left arm, but that could be anything. Where did you find him?” Dr. Breaux asked. “All the paramedics could tell me is that he was unconscious when they picked him up. Was he on another job?”

“No,” Zach replied. “He was found in an abandoned warehouse. The room Hank was kept in was totally sterilized, and I found him handcuffed to a hospital bed. He wasn’t conscious.”

Dr. Breaux stared at him, then glanced at Raissa. “But that’s just crazy. You’re serious about this?”

“Yes, sir. I would never joke about a kidnapping.”

“Well…I guess I just don’t know what to say. I mean, I’ve heard of organ harvesting, of course, but
it’s one of those things you never think you’re going to actually come in contact with. Especially among your living patients.”