by Nancy Gideon
“Well?” Atcliff prompted when Max met him at the open door.
“If they were after something, they didn’t find it. From what I can see, nothing’s been taken. Must have been scared off when your men responded to the silent alarm.”
Atcliff accepted that rationale without comment. “After you clean things up, let me know if you’re missing anything.”
“That’ll have to wait for my assistant’s return. She knows where everything belongs. I just sit behind the desk.”
A thin smile. “When you have time, stop in to make an official report. Paperwork, you know.”
“Yes, I do.”
Giles had ridden along with Marissa, leaving him the car. He left the lot and steered away from where he needed to go for answers. No sense letting Atcliff tag along the path of his suspicions. Instead, he made a single call on his mobile, going right to the source of the mystery by leaving a single question as his message.
“Carmen, who’d want to steal your file from my office?”
He’d barely hung up when his wife’s number popped on the screen.
“Is Marissa all right?”
Only he would pick up the fear in her voice. The depth of her caring melted his frayed edginess. With a deep breath, he focused that fierce energy outward.
“A lot better than those who thought they could get away with slapping her around. I’m on my way to the hospital. I’ll tell her you were asking after her.”
“What were they looking for?”
“I’d say they got what they wanted and made a hurried effort to cover it up. Manny’ll give me a long list of those who’d profit over what I kept in his file.”
A snort. “I’d put him on top of the list.”
“We think alike there, sha.”
“Who else you thinking? Brady?”
He chuckled. “That’s a conversation you’ll have to have with your Dutch uncle. Does he make it a habit of personally visiting the scene?”
“Atcliff was there?”
“When it involves me? Absolutely. He’d never miss an opportunity for his men to poke about in my business.”
A long silence. “You don’t think—”
“No. If he wanted to see what I kept in my drawers, he’d be more direct about it.”
“Why do I find that thought creepy on so many levels?”
A big laugh relieved the tightness in his chest. “Have a good day, Wife.”
“Keep me posted, Husband.”
– – –
Cee Cee was still smiling when her text chimed through. “Hey, M.K. More wedding plans in the works?”
“Not yet. Not until I take care of some unfinished business. Can we meet at the Towers?”
Cee Cee agreed to take an early lunch as much to relieve her frustration with her case as to explore the undercurrent whispering through her friend’s tone. Unfinished business?
She hated to admit that since wrapping her heart around Max Savoie, much about her friend’s life had gone unnoticed. Huge changes, potentially fatal events, monumental decisions, and she’d been totally clueless. Some detective she was. Some friend.
That needed to change.
Though the old plantation house was their anchor, where what had simmered between her and Max for years took flame on a dark front porch late at night with his rumbling question of who she wore on the high heel of her boot from the previous crime scene, the city remained the life’s blood of their careers, it’s streets her obligation, its waterfront the home of his clan.
The view from their penthouse always took her breath, that and the image scored upon her dreams, of Max Savoie, his long black raincoat billowing out like dark wings as he toed the girder of the then-unfinished floor, staring out over the kingdom he’d never wanted to claim. He’d stopped her world at that moment, and she’d been spiraling wildly, caught in his gravitational pull ever since.
Crossing to that floor-to-ceiling wall of glass, Cee Cee looked down upon the wide river. Rimmed with bustling docks, non-stop commerce moved along its waters while she’d been standing still, afraid to move on, to return to what she’d known if it meant letting go of what lay ahead.
Sighing heavily, she palmed the curve of her abdomen. Inevitable change. They’d never return to who they’d been when desire and unprecedented trust had swept them off their feet in that other lifetime. But a whole new future beckoned. A restless flutter beneath her hand mimicked the prowl of her emotions, eager for the future but forced to keep a pre-set pace.
“We’ll have to be patient. It’ll come soon enough.”
A knock on the door pulled her back into the moment.
The sight of just plain Mary Kate Malone without the surrounding aura of Sister Catherine still took Cee Cee aback. Emotions and memories caught about her heart—love, anguish, fear, but mostly love. Impulsively she hugged the light to her endless darkness close as if the ugliness of those years had been bad dreams to be pushed away and forgotten. If only . . .
As Cee Cee stepped back but not out of the circle of her friend’s arm, she was surprised to see Ophelia and Susanna also exiting the elevator. Unable to make a connection between the three very different females—M.K. minus her habit; Ophelia in her Bohemian scarves, sweeping skirt and chunky boots; and the doctor’s all-business Chicago’s Michigan Avenue, she suppressed her curiosity and ushered them in.
“Wow,” Ophelia murmured. “That’s a view.”
“Not quite heaven, but it’s our slice on earth.”
Her oldest, dearest friend smiled. “Who’d have thought this is how we’d end up back when we were living at St. Bart’s?”
“Finally happy?”
“Yes. Yes, we are.”
They embraced for an emotional squeeze then Cee Cee shooed her company toward the sunken living room, saying, “Sorry, the cupboards are bare, but I can call up something from the deli.”
“I’m fine,” Ophelia spoke up. “The only thing I need fed is my curiosity.”
“’Fraid I’ve no answers there.” She glanced between Mary Kate and Susanna, eyebrows raised. “Want to supply some?”
Cee Cee had never spent any real time with Ophelia one-on-one. But if the always suspicious Cale Terriot could embrace his new bond sister, she’d set doubts aside. Despite her surname, the capable, full-figured girl, with her eclectic clothes, Tarot cards and unerring intuition, had made a stand with the youngest shapeshifter prince, using her considerable family inheritance to provide not just for Kip’s numerous siblings, but for the protection of his extended displaced clan. That courage and integrity elevated the young woman to family status.
So, where did she fit into this new trio?
“Charlotte and I met at St. Bartholomew’s even before we started school,” Mary Kate began, filling in the newcomer as they settled onto opposite couches. “My parents had been killed in a car accident. Lottie’s father was a mostly absent cop, always on the job after her mother left them. St. Bart’s was our home, and Father Furness filled in for the family we’d lost.” Seated beside her dearest friend, she squeezed Cee Cee’s fingers tightly. In fond reflection . . . or warning? “I’d always considered that a heaven-sent coincidence, but it wasn’t. Not even close.”
Cee Cee’s self-protective alarm buzzed. “M.K., where you going with this?”
“The two of us and Nica Fraser, we were some of the first. Genetic experiments placed where we could be watched and monitored and tested without anyone noticing or caring.”
Even knowing those truths, they hit hard, stirring a bitter roux of anger and panic and frustration when Cee Cee looked back upon times seen through innocent eyes.
Mary Kate smiled gently. “We didn’t know. We never guessed what our mothers were. I learned from Father Furness, the night Jimmy Legere sent men to kill me for interfering with his plans for Max. Michael told me what I was and their plans for me and Charlotte. He told me to run, but I chose my own cowardly escape.”
Cee Cee’s breath hitched. Had that
been behind her friend’s attempt to end her life? “He was using us while pretending to be our friend.”
“He was our friend, Lottie, and in his way, saved us. He told those in the North even if I recovered, I’d be too damaged to be of use to them. But then Dr. LaRoche’s treatment healed me, strengthened me, showed me what I really was. And what I’d narrowly escaped.”
“The Vantours, Mobster brothers who’d run the docks,” Mary Kate continued, “went from trafficking sex slaves to dealing in genetic breeding before they even had a name for it. That’s why Legere wanted Max enough to have his mother killed. He knew how valuable that little boy would become. The crossroads of two pure lines. Two of three in New Orleans at the time. My mother was the other.”
Cee Cee stared at her, the quick turns of her mind patching pieces together. “It wasn’t an accident. They killed your parents.”
Blue eyes swam with pain. “My mother wanted to protect me, so she bargained with them for my freedom and hers. She offered to participate in an experimental in-vitro fertilization with—”
“My father.” Ophelia Brady’s unerring instinct knotted loose ends together. “She was the one who told my mother the children she carried weren’t her own.” Then that final, damning connection. “And my father had her silenced. I’m so sorry.” Tears illuminated her dark eyes. She blinked them clear as she truly saw Cee Cee’s friend. “That makes us . . . half-sisters.”
Mary Kate offered an encouraging smile. “Family. Yes.”
“But not Olivia.” Not a question but rather a need for confirmation.
The doctor spoke to that. “My guess is Genevieve Savorie saw her chance at immortality and took it,” Susanna supplied. “With or without telling your father. They were building the perfect beast, so to speak.”
Cee Cee slumped back into the couch cushions, palms pressed to her middle, thoughts churning too rapidly to stop. “For what purpose?”
“Whatever they decide,” the doctor surmised, “will not be in our best interest. A disposable workforce, a military elite, the next gen leader under their control? Any or all those things are possible. They now have the technology and the funds. They just needed the basic building blocks.”
“And when they finished their one-stop shopping at Dr. Jones’ clinic, they tried to get rid of the evidence.” Cee Cee purposefully closed her eyes to deny a surge of helpless fury. After a fierce, purging breath, her tone rumbled with determination. “We need to stop them. We need to protect our own and save our children’s future. We need to find a way to end Genevieve Savorie.”
“And,” Ophelia spoke up quietly, “my father.”
– – –
Bolstered by the confidence of the other women, though shaken by revealed truths, Cee Cee returned to her overflowing work desk, noting the empty one beside her with a regretful sigh. She’d started sorting her messages when a call buzzed in.
“My office.”
Her captain didn’t look up from his papers. “Have a seat, Detective.”
She settled across the desk from him, balancing on the edge of her chair the same way she feared her career teetered. When his head lifted and an unwavering stare locked on hers, jumper cables of shock snapped through her. She wasn’t on his shit list. This was something else. Something . . . huge.
“We can’t stop change, Lottie.”
Her gut tightened at the topic and his use of the fond moniker. Damn! He was pulling her off the streets. “We can give it our best shot, sir.”
An appreciative chuckle then the sober mood settled more deeply than before. “Other than your father’s, there’s no one whose opinion I respect more than yours.” He glanced toward the wall behind him where an old photo of two young officers hung amongst his many commendations. Tommy Caissie, his wide, roguish smile a dashing contrast to deep-toned Creole skin beside a stiffly pale and proper Byron Atcliff.
“I miss him, too, Uncle Byron.”
“Tommy was a good man, a good officer and friend. But not much of a father.” He put up his hand before she could make a weak argument. “I trusted him to have my back, on the streets and off them. The way I trust you to do the same.”
Surprise and professional gratification slowly succumbed to caution. “Thank you, sir.”
“I’m running this by you first because I trust your instincts, and I need your backing.”
Her brows puckered. “Sir?”
“In light of this fiasco with Brady, I anticipate a shakeup. Deputy Superintendent is something that’s been nudged my way. I’d like to start grooming you to take my spot.”
That she hadn’t seen coming. Before she could sputter any kind of response, he continued his well-vetted pitch.
“You’re respected by your peers and superiors. You can work the media and, along with your impeccable record, being a woman of color is to your advantage. Relatable, inspirational, and timely. Plus, you’re someone I can trust to have my back, and that of the department and city. Detective . . . Charlotte, take a breath.”
Cee Cee gulped and continued to stare at him as if he’d started speaking in tongues.
He smiled. “Let it settle in, Lottie, and then try to tell me it’s not what Tommy wanted for you, and you for yourself.”
Slowly, she explored the idea, mentally poking, rolling the possibility over in her mind. Coming up with one big drawback. “You’re forgetting the obvious.” She placed palms on her slightly rounded middle.
His enthusiasm failed to ebb. “A woman and a mother. Selfishly, I’ve been looking for an excuse to get you out the neighborhoods without losing all that you contribute to this to department. Charlotte, you’ve uncanny instincts and unshakable loyalty. When that child is born, they’re going to be divided when you’re out on the streets. I don’t want you struggling with that battle. And I don’t want Savoie on the other side of my desk going for my throat if something happens to you out there.
“Between now and the time you start thinking about childcare, I’ll propose your candidacy to the Promotions Committee for consideration. You’ll need to take the required tests. It’s not going to happen overnight. The transition to desk then to office will be the objective. It’s time to consider your options. And the future of your family.”
She slumped back in the chair, wrestling with the truth in everything he was saying. Finally, she blew out a big breath. “You’ll be a damned fine Deputy Chief, sir.”
“You’ll be a damned fine captain. But you’ll have to want it and work for it.”
She was beginning to think she did and would. Still . . . “Aren’t you forgetting the elephant in the room?”
“I’m thinking about your child.”
“I mean Savoie. How do you expect to shove Jimmy Legere’s alleged leg breaker down the throat of this city?”
His answer stunned her. “With a little grease from Norah Cummings and a lot of media spin. ‘Traumatized orphaned child exploited by Mobster rising above his circumstances to become a driving benevolent force in the community’ sounds pretty easy to swallow.” A calculating smile. “And an about-face from Karen Crawford, who owes me a favor, will work miracles. Let her slant her articles in our direction for a change.”
“You’ve thought this out.”
“I have.”
Her eyes narrowed. “Have you discussed this with Max behind my back?”
He put up his hands. “No. I don’t envy you that pleasure.”
Cee Cee mulled it over. Would Max object or view the change through the same protective eyes as her mentor? She’d no choice but to say, “I’ll talk to him, sir. Thank you for the opportunity.”
“You’ve never gotten anything you didn’t deserve, Detective. You’re a credit to our unit and will be one to our department, I’ve no doubt.”
But as she stood to shake his hand, Charlotte had plenty.
Kinetha Jones and Marissa were in the hospital. She had unresolved suspicions about her partner. And there was an entire shapeshifter community living beneath
the city’s radar about to go to war, with her husband as their leader.
Helluva time to consider a career move in a very public fish bowl.
CHAPTER TWENTY
“Or maybe the perfect one,” Silas replied when she posed the question to him while he prepared lunch for them in the MacCreedy condo’s kitchen.
A man who enjoyed cooking and was good at it, throw in whip smart, wickedly funny and a fine cop who knew how to fold laundry. Nica MacCreedy was one lucky female.
Cee Cee melted back into the plush couch, mineral water chilling her hand. “How so?”
“You in the limelight puts any potential enemies at risk of exposure. You’ll have bureaucratic backing and can affect change that benefits our kind.”
“I’m not becoming another Brady.”
He blinked then smirked at her tone. “Naw. You’re better looking in heels.”
“Don’t be an ass, Mac. I’m serious. What would you do if Nica suddenly decided to open her own detective agency?”
“I’d enjoy the hell outta retirement.” He dropped a plate on the coffee table in front of her and went around to plop down and dig into his own freshly made po’boy.
Mouth full, Cee Cee, mumbled, “Open a restaurant. This is to die for.”
“It’s the fresh oysters and just the right kick of cayenne. When the wife comes home from her nine-to-five supporting my lazy ass and our fifteen children, I plan to have the kids fed and dinner-for-two on the table.”
“Good plan. Probably how you’ll get to fifteen children.”
Silas chuckled. Taking a big bite, he groaned, “Damn, I’m good.”
A good friend, a good man, and a good partner.
After a few minutes of purposeful munching, Silas leaned back and sighed. “Take it. If for no other reason than so Max can stop worrying. And since he runs his own business, he can take the long night shifts. I remember those from when Christina was a baby. I’d sit up and rock her for hours.”
Tina Babineau. Cee Cee sometimes forgot that he was her older half-brother.