by Nancy Gideon
“Yeah, me and Babineau.”
“You just found the third girl, a hooker like the others?”
“Yeah. That’s right.”
“And if this bastard follows pattern, he’s got his new vic tucked away already.”
“Probably.” She waited patiently to find out where he was going with it.
“I think I know who he grabbed.” His eyes met hers with the torments of hell in them. “I think he has my daughter.”
Eight
THIS IS KELLY. She just turned seventeen.”
Cee Cee took the school photo and studied the face of a young girl with shining auburn hair and dimples. “Pretty.”
“Our oldest. Got her daddy’s pride and her mama’s stubbornness. Always knew exactly what she wanted, and wouldn’t let anything get in her way. She wanted to be a professional dancer. I wanted to get lessons for her when she was a kid, but then the other two came along and there wasn’t a lot of extra cash for things like that. When kids got a dream, they don’t want to hear about things like braces and a new transmission or their mama getting laid off at work. She had the talent and the drive, and it was just killing her, doing nothing with it. But there was nothing I could do to help make those dreams happen, you know?”
Cee Cee made a sympathetic noise, and tamped down her impatience.
“Some girl at school told her about a club where she could dance at night and make enough to pay for lessons during the day. A club.” He snorted. “You know what kind a place we’re talking here. My little girl, just sixteen then, telling me she was dropping out of school to work in a titty bar.”
“I imagine you handled it with sensitivity.”
He flinched at her mild sarcasm. “I handled it the way you would have. I locked her in her room and took away all her privileges. But she found a way to slip out, and she was gone. I’ve never been so damned mad in my life.” His rock-hard jaw trembled. “Two months, we heard nothing from her. Then a call to ask for money. I wouldn’t give her any. I was sure she’d come back. Sure of it.”
“But she didn’t.”
“No. Her friend was just a hook to pull her in. There was never enough cash left over to take those classes in classical dance. And pretty soon it took more than dancing to make ends—” He broke off, his eyes dark with pain and fury.
“Why do you think something’s happened to her?”
“About six months ago, her younger sister turned thirteen. Kelly called, wanted to come home and see her, but only if we’d promise not to try and make her stay. She stopped by, looking almost like my little girl, and for a little while it was like we were a family again.”
“But she wouldn’t stay.”
He shook his head. “She gave me her word that she wasn’t doing drugs, that she was being careful, and that no one was hurting her or forcing her to do anything. We came to an agreement—her mama’s idea— that she’d come home every Sunday, have dinner with us, wear her old clothes, sleep in her bed. I’d slip her what cash I could and we’d try to talk, so if she was in any trouble, she wouldn’t be afraid to call us.
“She was tired, Ceece. So tired and unhappy the last few times she came home. And scared. She wouldn’t say of what. She started talking about getting her GED. I was sure, sure, she was gonna ask if she could move back in.”
“And then?”
“She missed this last Sunday. No call. Nothing. I didn’t think much of it until the third body surfaced, then I went nuts looking for her. She was working in the same damned club the Cole girl was, and she hadn’t been at work. No one had seen her.
“That monster’s got my baby, Cee Cee. I just know it.” His head dropped into his hands.
“Stan, what do you want me to do?”
After a minute, he straightened. He looked terrible. “I told my wife she’d taken a trip up north for a few weeks. I didn’t want her to worry; it would kill her and the other kids. The press, the waiting—I can’t do that to them.” He paused, then made a humbling admission. “I couldn’t take it. Them plastering my little girl’s face all over the place: my little girl, the hooker.”
Understanding, she made no judgments. “Stan, what do you want me to do?” she repeated.
“Find my girl, but don’t go public with it.”
“You know showing her photo could get her home a lot sooner.”
“And it’ll bring the Feds in, and it’ll be out of our hands. If this perv doesn’t know we’re onto him, maybe he’ll keep her alive until the end of the month. Maybe I’ll get her back in time. You can follow up on the QT, get inside.”
“We’ll need to talk to your wife, Stan.” She waved off his protest. “Marilyn has to know. She’ll hate you for keeping it from her, and you know it. You need each other’s support, and we need things from her that only a mother would know.”
“All right.” Shaky hands threaded through his hair. “But you’ll keep it quiet, right?”
“Just me and Alain until we’re sure we’re on to something. In the meantime, I want you to file a missing person’s report. It’s what he’d expect you to do. And maybe that’s all it is.”
“And if it’s not?” His tragic expression woke an empathetic fury inside her.
“Then we’ll tear this town apart until we find her.”
CEE CEE FELT a stir of air, and her head popped up from the papers strewn across her coffee table. Max was standing on her balcony.
“Geez, I almost swallowed my tongue!”
“That would be a loss, considering what delightful things you can do with it. You missed supper. You didn’t call.” He said both things casually, but managed to make her feel guilty.
She still wasn’t used to someone keeping tabs on her. While part of her liked it, another part muttered, “What time is it?”
“Almost eleven.”
She slumped back against the couch cushions and summoned up a stretch. “I had no idea it was so late.”
“What are you working on?”
He still hadn’t come into the room. With shadows cloaking his expression, she couldn’t gauge his mood. Were they still on the outs over the Tina thing? The fact that he seemed to be waiting for an invitation to join her pointed in that direction.
“Going over some old files stored in the closet. Things of my daddy’s. I’m hoping to find something that ties into this case I’m working on.”
“Would you rather be left alone?”
“No, please come in. I’ve got the rest of these to go through, though.”
She went back to riffling through the thick folder in front of her.
The couch was covered with files, so he sat on the floor. “You can take this stuff back to the house, if you want. There’s more room for you to work there.”
She laughed without humor. “Jimmy’d roll over inside his mausoleum at the thought of me doing cop work under his roof.” She wasn’t wild about the idea, either. It brought the term “conflict of interest” too close to home.
After a moment, she glanced over to find him scanning the pages, too.
“What are you looking for?” he asked.
“Mentions of Manny Blu.”
“Why are you after Carmen?”
“Is he a friend of yours?” she asked carefully.
“No. Jimmy hated him. Wouldn’t have him out at the house. Called him a cheap hood.”
“That’s harsh, considering the source.”
Max grinned and she relaxed.
“He owns the club where one, maybe two, of the girls worked. Maybe both were hooking for him. Maybe he gets his kicks out of corrupting and killing innocent kids. If he’s involved, he’s not going to wiggle away.”
“Maybe I can help.”
Cee Cee smiled. To think that some couples spent evenings watching reality TV together.
“Thanks, but I got it.” She wanted it to be her teeth that bit Blutafino’s butt. And when she took that bite, she didn’t want any complications to bite her own— like Max’s fingerprints o
n the evidence.
And maybe, just maybe, she was still a little bit sulky over the way Max excluded her from his own business. Perhaps separate but equal was the way to keep a healthy balance in their relationship.
To lead away from that touchy arena, she went directly into another minefield.
“Did you and Babs get things worked out this afternoon?”
“We’re circling each other for the moment, looking for weakness so we can make a quick, clean kill.”
“That’s not funny.” And he wasn’t laughing.
“He hasn’t said anything to Tina, Max. And she and I are going to have lunch.” At his pointed silence, she said. “What? I can be pleasant and sympathetic when I need to be.” Her tone softened. “And we have things in common. Some good, some not so good.”
“You don’t need to involve yourself.”
Surely he didn’t mean his words to feel like a slap, but they did. Her tone roughened. “I created the problem, I’ll smooth it over. And I am involved, because you’re involved.”
Was he afraid she was going to make an even bigger mess for him to clean up? Or was this his kind, his way; no Uprights need apply? If so, why didn’t he just get it out in the open so she could deal with it?
“Are you and your partner going to be okay to work together?” he asked, as if that was the issue that concerned him.
“This isn’t the first tiff we’ve had, and it won’t be the last. We’ll get through it. He’s a good cop. We know each other’s habits, and how the other thinks.”
“But you didn’t have me and my monstrous clan standing between you before.”
Her mood sobered. “Don’t push him so hard, Max. He’s got to be seeing you as his worst nightmare. You’re a hero to his son and share a family secret with his wife. You’re rich, you’re powerful, you flout everything he believes in. And you’re not human. He doesn’t know how to deal with it, or with you.”
“And I have you.”
She nodded, then said in absolute candor, “And that’s got to threaten the hell out of him on more than one level. Give the guy a break. He’s afraid of you.”
“I’m afraid of him.”
She almost laughed until she realized that he was serious. “Why?”
His voice was quiet and grim. “He has what I’ve always wanted. He lives the life I’ve envied. He controls how often I can see Ozzy. He has information that could destroy me. And he had you.
“He shares with you things that I can’t. A history, a relationship, a species, and that annoyingly clannish brotherhood of the badge. He doesn’t bring the possibility of death by supernatural causes into your life. He doesn’t . . . hurt you by turning into something horrific.”
His gaze slid uncomfortably to her breakfast bar where he’d taken her in his beast form, too lost to mating madness to care if he frightened or damaged her. Too out of control to consider the consequences of that act.
“And now he holds my secrets in his hands,” Max concluded. “His whole life has been turned upside down because the woman he loves isn’t who or what he thought she was. And he blames me.”
The ringing of Max’s cell provided a welcome interruption.
“Savoie.”
Beneath the light press of her hand on his shoulder, Cee Cee felt his muscles tighten.
“I’ll be there.” He snapped the phone shut and glanced up at her.
“Trouble? Two-legged or four-legged?”
“That was Jacques. He wants me to come down to the club.”
Not much for her to go on. Cheveux du Chien catered to Max’s Shifter clan. His regular table in back was where he conducted his kingly business. Business that didn’t involve her, or any of the Uprights that most of his kind viewed with hatred and suspicion. Because of his relationship with her, some viewed him the same way.
What was calling so urgently for his attention so late? He didn’t offer any information, and she was too proud to ask for it. “Okay. I’ve got things to finish up here.”
“I’ll see you back at the house then?” The fact that he phrased it as a question said everything wasn’t settled.
“Sure.”
She leaned down to kiss him, losing herself in the taste of him. Letting him go before the need to cling kicked in.
After he left, she looked around for a nostalgic moment.
How many nights had she spent like this? Only instead of the turkey wrap and diet soda, she’d have been working through a six-pack and a bag of chips, lighting one cigarette off the butt of another. With no hope of a sexy lover showing up to seduce her, she’d have been deep in work until fatigue or the alcohol caught up with her close to dawn. Night after night.
For years, it had been enough. No worries about saying the wrong thing. No fear of stepping on sensitive toes. No relationship rules to remember. Just the freedom to do whatever she wanted whenever she wanted. No one wondering why she hadn’t called. No one crowding into her space, into her thoughts. Into her heart.
Back then, everything she had was in these few simple rooms. Everything she was was embossed upon the badge she carried. There were no deviations from right to slightly wrong. No question of where she stood, nor doubts from those who stood beside her.
Things had been so easy then. Get up, do the job she loved, and come home satisfied. This home. Not a mobster’s mansion where the floors were stained by blood and secrets. Where the lover who lay with her in the night wasn’t human.
She leaned her head back against the couch and rubbed her eyes.
What was she thinking? She didn’t want to go back to that time when she was miserable and alone, one drink from being an alcoholic, one case from burnout?
Why did the way Max Savoie filled that once-empty life suddenly scare the hell out of her?
She scowled, frustrated by her strange, restless mood. She hadn’t felt so edgy and moody since she was a teenager with hormones ping-ponging all over the place.
She tried to work again, but when an hour had passed and she’d accomplished nothing, she picked up the phone.
“Savoie.”
She could hear the pulse of music pounding behind his deep voice. And suddenly she didn’t know what to say to him.
“Hey.”
A pause. “Did you need something, Detective?” Just a touch of impatience. He was busy; it was a bad time.
“No.” Yes. She needed him to wrap her up in his arms and kiss her senseless, until the painful throb of her odd anxiousness went away. “I think I’m onto something here. I might be a while.”
“Okay.” A pause. “Anything else?”
“I love you, Max.” A longer pause filled by a hard techno spin. “Did you hear me?”
“Yes. Is everything all right, Charlotte?”
“Yeah. Sure. Just tired. I’ll let you get back to business.” She shut her phone.
She was so tired, soul-deep weary. Tension tightened the muscles in her neck and shoulders, making it impossible to focus. Because the comfort and easy camaraderie of her life was gone, changed in an instant out in the bayou when Max Savoie had let his mask fall in front of her fellow cops to save Oscar’s life. And she didn’t know what to do about it.
She should just close her eyes. Just for a minute.
When she opened them, it was morning.
THE UNEASINESS BUILDING like thunderheads over the past few days banked into a dark horizon over Max’s mood as he pocketed his phone. Something was wrong, but he didn’t have the luxury of sorting it out right now. Not with a whole other set of problems waiting to bite into his ass.
“Sorry,” he murmured to the group gathered around his table.
His kind. His clan. They’d all sworn fealty to him when he took over Legere Enterprises International. Among them were the heads of the various worker organizations that kept the city moving. A silent, unnatural workforce staying out of sight, existing in the dangerous shadows. He’d made them bold promises to stand with them, and for them—but now the allegiance he depend
ed upon was wavering.
Their panic was so thick he could smell it on them— because of the Trackers who’d come here and torn through their fragile sense of security, first by killing one of their own, and then by almost exposing their existence to the Upright world.
“What is it you want me to do?” he asked reasonably.
“More will come to replace those you killed,” someone said. Others nodded at that logic.
“Then we’ll have to be watchful and prepared.”
“That’s easy for you to say. You’re the only one in this room who’s ever survived them,” Philo Tibideaux said.
His brother had been slain by the vicious bounty hunters who’d come in search of a rumored pureblood who would save the Shifter clans. Consensus named Max Savoie as that savior, though he had no idea why or what wearing that crown might entail. And now they were doubting their choice.
“What of the rest of us, and our families?” Philo asked. “Are you going to be there to protect us all?”
“I’ll do what I can.”
“They’ve left us alone for generations,” another lamented. “Why come back now? What do they want?”
Some simply sat and rumbled, but others paced with restless growls, sliding between forms in volatile anxiety. Max watched his dangerous, violent clan work up a feverish pitch of fear that could easily culminate in attack.
Because he was the most convenient target, he remained calm yet cautious. The last thing he wanted to have to do was kill them all, but he could. And knowing he could was the only thing keeping them at bay.
“They’ve already got our will and our memories, and our courage. What more could they take?” Jacques LaRoche snarled. This was his club. His meaty hand ruled the docks at Max’s command.
In their agitation, the others looked to him because he was one of them, a familiar blunt instrument, not a sleek outsider like Savoie.
“I’m not like most of you. I wasn’t born here. I had another life, a family that they stole from me before tossing me down here because I no longer had value to them. But they were wrong to think they had no reason to fear me. I won’t ever roll over for them. Thanks to Savoie, I’ve found my teeth again.”