by Jana DeLeon
“Dr. Breaux,” Raissa began, shifting topics. “I wondered if you might know someone.”
There were a couple of seconds’ pause before he responded, but finally Dr. Breaux looked over at Raissa. “Who would that be?”
“A Dr. Spencer.”
“I know two Dr. Spencers, as a matter of fact. Husband and wife pediatricians. Have a large practice in Miami.”
“No, this Dr. Spencer is in New Orleans. He’s a cancer specialist and works only with children.”
Dr. Breaux frowned for a moment, then brightened. “Yes. Dr. Spencer was a guest speaker at a medical seminar I attended earlier this year. He did a very interesting panel on the increased rate of leukemia in children near manufacturing plants.”
“But you don’t know him personally?”
“No, can’t say that I do. Why? Has he done something wrong?”
“Not that I know of. He was treating that little girl that was abducted on Monday.”
“Really? They never said anything on the news about her being ill. Why, that’s horrible. I hope she’s found before her treatment is compromised.” He shook his head, his expression sad. “I wonder what her prognosis is.” He gave Raissa a curious look. “Did they say that on the news? I watched this morning, but I don’t remember them covering anything like that.”
“No. Dr. Spencer’s office is across the street from my shop. The girl always came into my store with her mother after the appointments. She looked very healthy, if that makes you feel any better.”
“Yes, that’s good news. I guess we’ll just have to pray that she’s found before things worsen.” Dr. Breaux looked over at Maryse and shook his head. “What interesting lives the two of you lead. You seem always to be right in the middle of the action.” He gave them both a stern look. “Be certain you don’t put yourself in a bad position with all this. There are lots of people who don’t relish their secrets being exposed. You should both be well aware of that after the last couple of months.”
“We’ll be careful,” Maryse said, and Raissa nodded.
Dr. Breaux stared into his coffee, his expression both confused and troubled. Maybe Maryse was right. Maybe he’d check into things. Things that happened twenty-nine years ago with the birth of Hank Henry.
Raissa still intended to do some checking on her own.
Chapter Fourteen
Zach sat across from Captain Saucier, trying to figure out the best way to lie to him and still not cause a heart attack. The man was clearly suffering from the strain. He kept running his fingers across the top of his bald head, probably wishing he still had some hair to pull out.
“Nothing,” the captain complained, and banged one hand on his desk. “Four days and not a damned thing. Please tell me you’ve got something, Blanchard. Our futures here may depend on it.”
“I might have something, but it’s thin, and you’re not going to like where I got it.”
“I don’t care if Satan himself showed up with a tip. I’ll take anything at this point.”
Zach took a breath and blew it out. “It wasn’t Satan, but it could get us a one-way ticket to hell if anyone finds out.”
The captain stared at him for a couple of seconds, then shook his head. “Shit. That Bordeaux woman.”
“Yeah. She sorta called me. I gave her my card and—”
The captain waved a hand, cutting him off. “I know I’m likely to regret this, but I don’t even care. Do you know where the woman is now?”
“No.” At least that part was absolutely true.
“Could you track the call?”
“No.” Since she’d told him the phone wasn’t traceable, that part was technically true, also.
“Then fuck it,” the captain said. “What did the woman have to say? Did she bother to explain why the FBI is after her? Or what she had to do with the kidnappings? Please tell me she knows something.”
“She knows something, but I’m not sure what to make of it.”
“I need to know that the information she provides is credible, so let’s start at the beginning. What does the FBI want with her? Was she involved with the other kidnappings?”
“Sorta, but not in the way you’re thinking. She claims she’s former FBI.”
The captain sat straight up in his chair. “Is she rogue?”
“No. She’s the key witness in a huge case, but she fled protective custody when it was clear the bad guys could get to her anyway.”
“And you believe this?”
Zach tried to appear nonchalant. “I can’t see much reason not to. The FBI’s looking for her, sure, but all they sent was that dick Fields. If she were wanted for criminal activity, especially kidnapping, wouldn’t they have sent in a squad with guns blazing?”
“You have a point. Unless she voluntarily surrenders and puts on a set of handcuffs herself, Fields isn’t likely to apprehend her. That guy must be related to somebody important to keep his position. He’s useless. So was she on the kidnapping case?”
“No, but while she was undercover, she stumbled across something that made her think a member of her primary target’s family was part of it.”
“Undercover, huh? Please tell me she wasn’t a secretary or something in the mayor’s office. My ulcer is already killing me.”
“No, it wasn’t that kind of family, exactly.”
The captain frowned. “Then what kind of family was it?”
“The Hebert kind of family.”
Captain Saucier stared at him, a stunned expression on his face. “No shit. This broad claims she was undercover in the Hebert clan? No wonder she’s been hiding. I’m surprised she’s not hiding at the bottom of the Mississippi.”
“Me, too, but apparently Ms. Bordeaux is much more resourceful than the FBI or the Heberts ever imagined.”
“Unbelievable. Well, that’s a twist I didn’t see coming.”
“Me, either, sir.”
“So this Bordeaux woman thinks one of the Hebert family is involved? Did she say which one?”
“Yeah, but word is he hasn’t been seen for some time now. She doesn’t think he’s vacationing. At least not alive.”
“Shit.” The captain picked up a pen and tapped it on the desk. “So what do you make of this? It could be a different Hebert now, but what the hell? There’s never been a ransom request, so what’s the angle? The Heberts aren’t known to participate in not-for-profit activities.”
“I was thinking the political angle,” Zach suggested.
“With the mayor.” The captain dropped the pen and sat back in his chair. “Okay. So the question is, did they take the girl to strong-arm some favor or did they take the girl per mayor’s orders, to boost his reelection ratings for future favors?”
“I couldn’t say.”
“Did the Bordeaux woman give you anything else?”
“Yeah. A Dr. Spencer. Apparently Ms. Bordeaux knew the girl. Used to see her go to a doctor’s appointment across the street from her shop. The mother and girl used to stop in her store afterward.”
“And did you talk to Spencer?”
“He’s a cancer Specialist and says the girl is sick, but apparently the mother lied about her identity, and even the girl doesn’t know what she’s being treated for.”
“Does the father know?”
Zach shook his head. “I don’t think so, and the mother’s definitely hiding something. She looked scared to death when I mentioned the mayor’s connection to the other kidnappings.”
“Please don’t tell me this kid’s going to die.”
“Dr. Spencer doesn’t think so, but the longer she goes without her medication…”
“Shit. Can you find this Bordeaux woman?”
Zach shrugged. “I don’t know. Are you telling me to go against FBI orders and look for her?”
The captain stared out the window for a while, then looked back at Zach. “Yeah, that’s exactly what I’m telling you to do.”
Zach rose from his chair, holding in a smile. He’d
just been officially given permission to be in Raissa’s company, and God help him, that was something he wanted badly. Plus, he tried to tell himself, it would make things much easier going forward…for the investigation.
“And Blanchard,” the captain said as Zach stepped out of the office, “keep this between the two of us.”
Zach nodded. It went without saying.
Maryse rang up a candle purchase in Sabine’s store and handed the woman her change and a bag with the candle. “Thank you, and please come again. Sabine will be back this weekend. I’m sure she’d be happy to schedule a reading for you.”
The woman smiled. “Thank you. I look forward to meeting her.”
Maryse watched until the woman left the shop and crossed the street before hurrying from the counter to the break room. Raissa was perched on a chair at the break-room table with a laptop in front of her. Maryse pulled a chair next to her and took a seat. “Did you get in yet?”
Raissa nodded. “Piece of cake.”
Maryse looked at the screen that prominently displayed the hospital’s medical rec ords and felt her pulse quicken. “You’re sure no one will track it back to you?”
“Someone would have to know I’ve broken in to even begin a trace. Mudbug General has simply horrible security. A high-school student could hack their system and never leave a trace.”
“That’s great to know, considering all my medical records are stored there.”
“Don’t sweat it. No one bothers with hospitals unless they’re looking for something to blackmail people over. And since most people go to clinics and pay cash for the blackmailable sorts of health issues, hospitals aren’t exactly hopping with hackers.”
“Okay,” Maryse said, not completely convinced. “So did you find anything?”
“There were five babies born during the time Helena was in the hospital having Hank. Three were girls, so that leaves only baby Frederick Agostino.”
“What a mouthful.”
“Tell me. Take a look at that birth weight.” Raissa pointed to a line on a birth record. “Surely if Hank had been an eleven-pound baby, Helena would have mentioned that.”
“Are you kidding me? If Helena had given birth to an eleven-pound baby, we’d have heard about it every day of her life, and she’d still be complaining after death. No one does persecution drama like Helena.”
Raissa closed the program with the hospital records and accessed a Web browser. She typed in a search for Frederick Agostino, and Maryse was surprised when a number of hits were returned. Raissa laughed and Maryse leaned in to read some of the results.
“A family-owned Italian restaurant. That explains the birth weight. Mama Agostino probably ate them out of restaurant and home while she was pregnant.”
Raissa clicked on one of the links and a news article about the restaurant appeared, complete with a picture of the Agostino family. It was obviously taken with a wide-angle lens.
“Well, that blows another theory,” Maryse said with a sigh. “Frederick is the spitting image of his mother.”
Raissa shook her head. “That is truly frightening, but you’re right. There’s no way Frederick isn’t Mrs. Agostino’s son.”
“Which means we still don’t know what happened to Helena’s baby,” Maryse said.
“Or where Hank came from.”
“Maybe when those aliens take one person, they leave another.”
Raissa shrugged. “It’s as good a theory as any other. You think Helena will buy that her son’s from another planet?”
Maryse sighed. “I would.”
Hank walked Lila to her car, anxious over what he was about to do. It was a risk. A huge risk, and Hank Henry was not the risk-taking kind of guy, not anymore. But Lila was standing there in her yellow sundress, her long brown hair falling in gentle waves across her shoulder, and Hank was mesmerized.
He opened her car door for her and stood there with his hand still on top of the door. She placed her notebook inside and turned to smile at him. It was a smile that turned his insides into jelly and other places on him into something far less squishy. In all his years on earth, Hank had never met a woman who left him so unbalanced.
“Thanks,” she said. “That first set of cabinets looks fabulous. I can’t believe you got them built so quickly.”
Hank blushed. “I might have worked a little overtime. I wanted to have something for you to look at when you came today.”
“It’s so exciting. Everything is going to look even better than I imagined, and the rooms are going to look like home and not a clinic.” She placed one of her hands on top of his. “I’m so glad you’re working here, Hank. You understand how important all this is. I’m very proud of you. And I have to say, I told you so.”
Hank looked down at the ground. “Thanks, but I can’t take all the credit.” He looked back up at her. “You made a huge difference in my life, more so than anyone else ever has. You were a stranger, and you still believed in me. I didn’t trust that at first. Didn’t think it was possible for me to be anything other than what I’d always been. Probably still wouldn’t if I hadn’t met you.”
Lila squeezed his hand and sniffed. “That’s so nice, and it means a lot to me.” She rubbed her nose with one finger and sniffed again. “My father was raised in harsh circumstances. He got into all sorts of trouble when he was a teenager, and people figured it was a given that he was going to spend most of his adult life in prison. But my mom saw something in him that no one else did, and she brought it out in him. He owns his own CPA firm and does really well.”
“Wow. He must be really smart.”
Lila grinned. “He was a bookie before that, so he said it just fit.”
Hank laughed. “That’s cool. Your mom must be a special woman. I guess that explains where you get it.” He looked down at the ground again and fidgeted, trying to build up the courage for what he wanted to do. Finally, he took a deep breath and looked back up at her. “Would you like to have dinner with me sometime? I understand if you say no, since I was a patient, and now I’m an employee, and well, I know you have a reputation to protect—”
Lila placed a finger on his lips to stop his rambling. “I’d love to have dinner with you. I’m free on Friday.” She leaned over and kissed him on the check. “I’ve got to run to my next appointment, but I’ll see you tomorrow morning at eight for the walk-through with Chuck. We can make plans afterward.”
Hank nodded, unable to speak, as Lila got in her car and pulled away from the curb with a wave. His cheek tingled where her lips had touched his skin, and he watched her car until it turned the corner at the end of the block and he could no longer see it.
“How touching.” The voice sounded directly behind Hank and he spun around to face Rico Hebert.
“What do you want, Rico?” Hank asked.
“I want what Sonny wants.”
“I’ve already told you I don’t know anything. My ex-wife doesn’t know anything, and her friend that might know something is out of the country getting married. I’m a dead end.”
Rico nodded. “That’s what you say, but that psychic woman’s still missing. Her shop’s closed. She’s not at home, and Sonny would really like to find her.”
“Yeah, well, tell Sonny to get in line.”
“Sonny doesn’t wait in line. Why should he?”
“Because according to my ex-wife, the New Orleans Police Department and the FBI are looking for Raissa, too. My ex has already gotten the shakedown from all of them and told them the same thing she told me—no one knows where Raissa is.”
Rico frowned. “That’s very unfortunate.”
“Look, unfortunate or not, apparently the woman’s good at not being found. If the FBI can’t find her, my guess is Sonny’s not going to, either.”
Rico studied Hank for a couple of seconds. “Maybe your ex-wife knows more than she’s saying.”
Hank shook his head. “No way. If my ex knew anything, she would have told the cops or that new husband of he
rs, and he would have told the cops. She’s got some damned code of ethics that men like you and I simply wouldn’t understand. Raissa’s gone, Rico, and no one that cares about her knows where. My ex and her friends are frantic. They’re not faking.”
“Maybe not, but that would be unfortunate. You know, you not being able to find out and all.” Rico inclined his head toward the clinic. “All kinds of accidents happen on construction sites. Bad electrical wiring and such. Some of these places are known to just go up in flames. Least that’s what I hear.”
Hank clenched his hand into a fist and gritted his teeth, trying to control himself. Hitting Rico was a surefire way to bring down the house of cards. “That’s what insurance is for, I suppose,” Hank said, trying to sound as if he didn’t care.
“Yeah. Unless, of course, insurance thinks the guy building the clinic did it himself. I hear insurance fraud is a real problem for business owners.”
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.”