Showdown in Mudbug Page 11

  “There was no plate on the back, either,” Helena said, huffing like a freight train.

  Raissa looked over at Helena, who was struggling to loosen her seat belt. “Are things supposed to hurt ghosts?” Helena asked. “Because this seat belt is killing me. What the hell?”

  Raissa watched as the black car disappeared over the next rise in the highway. What the hell? was a really good question.

  Working on her best pout, Helena sat in a secluded corner of Starbucks across from Raissa. “I can’t believe you’re going to drink that caramel, whippy-doodle thingie in front of me.”

  “You can’t exactly drink one in here,” Raissa whispered. “I’ll get you one when we leave.”

  “Promise?”

  “God, you’re worse than a three-year-old. Don’t worry. You’ll have your coffee in twenty minutes or less. That whole run-in on the way here has made me change my plans. I don’t have time for the hacking I had planned, and it might not be the best idea, when I can convince someone else to do it for me.”

  Helena winked. “Must be nice having a cop on the side.”

  Raissa laughed and pressed in some numbers on her cell phone. “Zach, I need a favor.”

  “What kind of favor?”

  “Can you track down the other missing girls? I thought that if we could find where they are now, we might be able to ask if they’ve remembered anything about their kidnapping, or if anything’s happened to them since.”

  “Sounds reasonable,” Zach said. “Just let me run it by the captain. He’s been watching us like a hawk. We’re not supposed to do anything unless it advances the investigation.”

  “Great. And, um, there’s one other little thing.”

  “What kind of thing?” The suspicion was evident in his voice.

  “Well, I got into a little trouble, and I was hoping you could—”

  Zach didn’t even let her finish. “What the hell happened now?”

  “A car followed me from Mudbug and tried to run me off the road. I might have taken a shot at them in a Top Gun sort of maneuver.”

  “Damn it! I told you to stay put.”

  “Yes, but I had things to do.”

  “Like what?”

  “Like get a coffee. So can you help me do a DMV search or not?”

  He sighed.

  “Now, see, this is exactly what the captain doesn’t want us running off on,” he said. Then after a pause, “Did you get the plate number?”

  “No plates, but I have a make and model. Black Cadillac DTS—current year.”

  “You want me to do a search for every Black Cadillac DTS in New Orleans? Seriously?”

  “It’s a sixty-thousand-dollar car. There can’t be that many.”

  “Fine, but if I lose my job over this, I’m sending you my mortgage bill.”

  Raissa smiled. “I’ll make it up to you. Give me a call when you have the info.”

  “So why do you want to know about the other girls?” Helena asked as Raissa hung up.

  “I don’t know. It’s just a feeling that they’re all connected in some way other than appearance, but it’s a strong feeling. Do you know what I mean?”

  Helena nodded. “Yeah. Kinda how I felt right before I died. I knew it wasn’t just another asthma attack or something simple. It was too late by then, but it’s almost like carrying a wet blanket around on your shoulders. I’ve been carrying it ever since.”

  “Exactly. And it’s the one thing that’s nagged at me for years. There has to be some reason these girls were chosen. I simply can’t believe it’s random.”

  Helena nodded. “You think any of them remember something?”

  “It’s possible. Maybe nothing with extreme clarity, but they could be experiencing dreams or reactions to certain stimuli. Unless the brain cells containing information are completely removed or damaged beyond repair, there’s always the chance that a memory can surface.”

  “But if that’s the case, wouldn’t they have said something?”

  Raissa shook her head. “Not necessarily. I know it seems like they would want justice, but I found with victims that the more time had passed after the crime, the less interested they were in justice than in just trying to forget.”

  “Makes sense. So you think maybe they wouldn’t have raised a flag, but if questioned directly they might fess up?”

  “That’s what I’m hoping.”

  “So do you think the guy in the Cadillac works for Sonny?”

  “It’s certainly possible. Sonny liked Cadillacs and he never had a shortage of automobiles. He had twelve when I worked for him.”

  “Jeez,” Helena said, “what the heck does he need all those cars for? You can only drive one at a time. Does he have fifty kids or something?”

  “No. he only had the one kid.”

  “The one that died?”

  “Yeah. His wife had complications with the birth and had to have a full hysterectomy afterward. The one thing I can say for Sonny is that the whole time I was with him, I never saw him cheat on his wife. Most of the guys figured he’d cut her loose when she couldn’t give him a son, but they’re still married.”

  “A mobster with family ethics? Weird.”

  “His daughter’s death really affected him. I’ve never known a man to grieve that way. Despite everything I knew he was into, I felt sorry for him. His daughter was his light. After she died, he never really seemed to snap out of it. I was afraid he was setting himself up for takeover, being weak and all, but I soon realized that I was the only one that noticed. I think the rest of them are missing the empathy gene.”

  “Probably a good thing for Sonny,” Helena said.

  “Definitely a good thing for Sonny. Well, since I’m deadlocked until I hear from Zach, what do you say we get you the biggest latte they make and get out of here?”

  Helena frowned. “Um, I wasn’t going to bring this up, but seeing as how you’re probably light-years smarter than me, I’m going to go ahead and ask. How did they know it was you in the car? I mean, you’re wearing an awesome disguise and your car’s the same, but you switched plates with Maryse, and well…”

  “They had to be watching. It wouldn’t have taken a genius to see me having breakfast at the café with Maryse or walking back across the street to the hotel. All someone had to do was watch the back and they would have seen me leave and get the car out of the garage.” She tapped one finger on the laptop and stared out the window. “Or maybe it was something else.”

  “I don’t see what. Even if they were in Mudbug looking for you, no one would have recognized you in that getup.”

  “Even without this getup, I still don’t look like I did when I was in the FBI. I’ve had facial reconstruction done.”

  “Shit,” Helena said. “Maybe we should get that coffee now?”

  “I think that’s a great idea, and I’m going to call Maryse and ask her to pick you up, okay?” Raissa said, an idea already forming in the back of her mind. And if she was right, it wouldn’t take long to prove it.

  Ten minutes later, they were perched on the top level of a parking garage half a block down from the Starbucks. Helena was panting after walking up the stairwell. “You didn’t tell me I had to hike for my coffee. What are you trying to do, kill me again? And what the hell are we doing here? This isn’t where you parked.”

  “I know, but I wanted a good view of everything, and this is the best view around.”

  Helena pulled the lid off her coffee and continued panting in the cup. “No need letting good air go to waste. This is a little too hot.”

  Raissa shook her head and looked back at Starbucks.

  “So why are we playing eagle eye up here?” Helena asked.

  “Because I want to see who else shows up.” Raissa pointed across the street at the parking garage where she’d left her car. “Look on the third level. You can see my car where I parked it on the end.”

  “Yeah, but there’s no way that guy followed us after the exit. You would have see
n him.”

  “I know. Just wait. If nothing else happens in the next ten minutes, we’ll leave.”

  Raissa leaned back against a cement wall and watched Helena savor her coffee. Five minutes later, she pushed herself off the wall and pointed. “Look.”

  Helena looked down the street from the garage where a black car with dark-tinted windows had pulled to the side of the street. The car was parked with a clear view of the garage exit. Helena turned to Raissa, her eyes wide. “Is that the same car?”

  “Same type, but it’s not the car that hit us earlier. There’s no bullet hole in the trunk of that Cadillac.”

  “So how did they find you so fast?”

  “I think there’s a GPS tracker on my car. See how they parked to have a clear view of the garage? They’re not sure where I went, so they parked where they can see the garage, for when I return.”

  “I’ll be damned. So that’s how they found you.”

  “That’s my bet.”

  “Then that means they put something on your car before you ever came to Mudbug.”

  “Yep.”

  Helena’s eyes widened. “Which means that Sonny already knew how to find you, assuming it’s him, of course.”

  “I think so. I’ve thought so since Hank paid me a visit.”

  “Then why wait all that time and try to kill you now, when it’s harder? You got the FBI looking for you, a new buddy with the New Orleans Police Department shadowing you, and an assortment of crazy women in a hotel rigged with better security than the White House. Seems stupid to make a move now.”

  “It’s very stupid. That’s what makes it so interesting. Sonny Hebert may be a lot of things, but stupid isn’t one of them. He’s very deliberate, almost methodical, about everything. It’s why he’s made it this long without going to prison or being bumped off by another family member looking to take over.”

  Helena frowned and looked back down at the black Cadillac. “So what the hell?” Helena asked for the second time in less than an hour.

  Raissa looked down at the black car and shook her head. The question was just as pertinent now as before. And just as unanswerable.

  Chapter Ten

  Zach stood on the top level of a parking garage, staring at Raissa over the top of his unmarked police car. “I don’t like it.” His captain had given him the go-ahead to pull information about the other missing girls, but hadn’t thought there was anything there to warrant questioning them. Raissa, of course, thought different.

  She shrugged. “There’s a tracking system on my car and someone tried to kill me earlier. I don’t like that.

  “So are you going with me to this girl’s house, or do I need to get a new car and do this with my fake police ID?”

  Zach groaned, the ten million things that could go wrong with Raissa’s plan racing through his mind. “I still think this is a horrible idea.”

  “No, you don’t. You just don’t want to get caught doing it.” She gave him a critical look. “You know, with a laptop and a printer, I could make you a new police ID.”

  Zach placed his hands over his ears. “I’m not hearing this.”

  “C’mon. There’s only one girl in New Orleans. She lives with her aunt. It’s not like I’m asking you to round them all up for a lineup or the Spanish Inquisition.”

  “Yeah, that’s what you say now.” He opened his car door. “Get in before I change my mind.”

  Twenty minutes later, Zach pulled up in front of a neat townhome in a quiet area of town. “I will introduce myself. Follow my lead, but don’t say anything if it can be helped. Nice wig, by the way.”

  Raissa patted down her long brown curls. “Thanks. I have a blue silk nightie that goes perfect with this. If you’re interested in seeing some of my other costumes.”

  Zach turned away, trying to block the mental picture of Raissa in blue silk and those sexy brown curls. He walked up to the front door of the townhome and could practically feel Raissa smiling behind him. He took a deep breath and rang the doorbell. He waited a couple of seconds and was just about to ring the bell again when he heard footsteps inside.

  A second later, the door opened and a pretty young blonde woman peered out the door, safety latch firmly in place. “Can I help you?”

  Zach opened his badge and held it up to the crack in the door. “I’m Detective Blanchard with the New Orleans Police Department. Are you Jennifer Warner?” he asked, giving the girl’s new name.

  The girl stared at him, a wary expression on her face. “Yes.”

  “I’m sorry to bother you, but I need to ask you a few questions. Do you mind? You can step outside if you’re not comfortable with us being inside, or you can answer them through the door. You can have my badge if you want to call in my number.” Zach held his breath that she wouldn’t take that last option. He wouldn’t even have time to clean out his desk, especially if Jennifer described the female partner that he didn’t exactly have.

  She looked at the badge again, then up at Zach. Finally, she closed the door and Zach heard the lock sliding back. The door opened a second later and she waved them inside. “I was just making some coffee,” she said as she walked down a hallway into a kitchen. Zach and Raissa trailed behind.

  Jennifer lifted the pot. “Would you like any?”

  “No, thank you,” Zach said. “We don’t want to take much of your time.”

  Jennifer poured a cup of coffee and sat on a stool at the end of a bar, nervously fiddling with the handle on her mug. Raissa tugged on Zach’s sleeve, and he took a seat along with Raissa across from the girl. As soon as he slid onto the stool, the girl relaxed. He glanced at Raissa. That woman could definitely read people.

  “I guess I don’t have to ask if you know who I really am,” Jennifer said. “Is this about the kidnapping? It’s been all over the news.”

  “Yes, but why do you assume that?” Zach asked.

  Jennifer shrugged and stared into her coffee. “I don’t know. I guess ’cause the missing girl sorta looked like me.”

  Zach studied her for a couple of seconds and decided that Jennifer was right. There was definitely a resemblance. “You do favor each other, but that’s not the only reason. There are similarities regarding the disappearance that make us think it might be the same person or persons involved.”

  Jennifer looked up at him, her expression bleak. “What do you want from me? I told the police everything years ago.”

  “I know. I guess I was hoping that maybe after all this time you might have remembered something. Something you didn’t mention before.”

  Jennifer stared at him for a moment, then shook her head. “I wish I could remember. I can’t even walk down the sidewalk without wondering ‘Is that the guy who took me—is that the guy?’ Or maybe it was a woman. I’m scared of them, too. I thought changing my name and moving in with my aunt would help, and it did, but only barely. I’ve been homeschooled since I was returned. I graduated high school last semester with top scores. I already have offers from Ivy League schools, but I’m afraid to go. I’ve been through seven counselors and no telling how many drugs, and I still won’t leave this house without an escort. Trust me, Detective, I would love to remember.” Her hands shook as she stirred her coffee.

  Raissa reached across the bar and placed her hand on Jennifer’s arm. “Your fear is real and valid. Counselors usually try to tell you otherwise, which is where they go wrong, in my opinion, anyway. What they don’t tell you is that because of your experience, your senses are finely honed. You are far better suited to recognize danger than the average person.”

  Jennifer looked at Raissa, her expression wavering between wanting to believe and wanting to run for cover. “I’m a quivering mess. I’m not finely honed.”

  “Not yet. You’ve tucked yourself away for so long that when you go out now, you’re on sensory overload. If you increase your public time slowly, even by five minutes a day, you’ll find the anxiety will start to fade. Then you’ll be left with an awareness, alm
ost a sixth sense, about what’s going on around you.”

  “Did someone attack you?” Jennifer asked.

  “I was stalked and shot. And I learned to trust that feeling in my gut and when the hair raises on the back of my neck. Fear is a gift. A gift far too many of us have forgotten how to access.”

  “Wow.” Jennifer’s expression cleared in understanding. “That makes sense.” She gave Raissa a shy smile. “You’re the first person who’s made me feel anything but neurotic. Thank you.”

  Raissa smiled. “You’re welcome. So how does knowing you have an advantage make you feel? Strong?”

  Jennifer thought for a couple of seconds, then nodded. “Yeah. It does. This is so cool. Now, I can go out in public a little at a time, and I’ll remember that my being hyperaware is a good thing. I could get better, right?”

  “Yep, maybe even in time for college registration next spring.”

  Jennifer’s smile widened, and Zach could see how Raissa had opened a whole new world in the girl’s mind with just a few sentences. He liked to consider himself tough and hard, but he couldn’t help being moved.

  After a couple of seconds, Jennifer’s smiled faded and she looked over at Zach. “I don’t know if this means anything, but I started having dreams right after I saw the kidnapping on the news.”

  “What kind of dreams?” Zach asked, feeling his pulse quicken. Buried memories often started surfacing in dreams or in states of semiconsciousness.

  Jennifer frowned. “Weird. Like it’s me in the dream, but I’m watching it from the outside, you know?”

  Zach nodded, but didn’t reply, not wanting to interrupt her thought process.

  “I’m in this room, but all I can see is bright light. The first time I had it, I thought I was dreaming about dying, you know, with the white light and all. But the next time I heard voices…regular voices, not God or anything.”

  “Do you remember what the voices were saying?” Zach asked, pen and paper ready.

  “A man says, ‘We’re running out of time.’ Then another man says, ‘I won’t have what we need until Wednesday. The blood wouldn’t do any good now. It’s too thin.’ Then the first guy says, ‘I hope that’s soon enough.’ And the other guy says, ‘Of course it will be. I can make anything happen.’ ”