Showdown in Mudbug Page 6

  Maryse and Sabine had both recently gone through their own life-threatening crises and had tried in the beginning to get through it without involving anyone they cared about. In the end, it had taken everyone to make things right, but both still carried the guilt of how badly things could have turned out.

  Maryse lowered her eyes to the table, and Sabine’s face flashed with a look of guilt, then sympathy. “When you put it like that…” Sabine said.

  “Bitch,” Maryse said, and gave Raissa a small smile.

  Sabine swatted at Maryse. “That’s not polite. My God, you are never going to learn manners, are you?”

  Maryse put on an innocent look. “Hey, for all I know, that could be her real name.”

  Sabine frowned and looked at Raissa. “Did Beau know who you really were?”

  Oh shit. Raissa’s mind raced for a way out of this one. Beau, ex–FBI agent and Sabine’s new husband, had finally remembered seeing Raissa talking with an FBI assistant director in Washington, D.C. Despite the plastic surgery she had to change her appearance, he’d still recognized her, but promised to keep her secret. Apparently, he was a man of his word, but that might not score him many points with the woman he’d just married.

  “Raissa?” Sabine prompted.

  “Uh-oh,” Maryse said, and scooted her chair away from Sabine’s.

  “Well,” Raissa began, “he didn’t remember me at all…at first.”

  Sabine narrowed her eyes at Raissa. “But then he did?”

  “Yeah. That night at the hospital with Mildred, something made him remember, but I made him promise not to tell.”

  Maryse laughed at Sabine’s frown. “Kind of a catch-22, huh? Your man has honor and integrity, but since he was FBI, that means he’ll always be keeping things from you. Welcome to my world. Could be worse. At least you knew what Beau was when you met him.”

  Sabine’s frown relaxed. “That’s true.” Maryse’s husband, Luc, an agent for the Department of Environmental Quality, had been working undercover when Maryse met him. In fact, he was undercover investigating Maryse. Not the smoothest way to start a relationship, for sure.

  “So,” Maryse said and grinned at Raissa, “is that your official FBI undercover investigating sort of outfit? Because I have to say, it’s kinda hot.”

  Raissa smiled. “Actually, I was at a confession.”

  Maryse hooted. “And what did they confess to?”

  “Nothing I was hoping to hear, unfortunately.”

  Maryse sobered and nodded. “You’re looking for that little girl, right? Have the police been giving you trouble since you handed them information you shouldn’t have?”

  “Just one,” Raissa replied, and felt a blush creep across her chest and up her neck.

  “Oh, no,” Maryse said and poked Sabine in the side with her elbow. “I’ve seen that look. What exactly does Just One look like?”

  Raissa sighed. “Hot enough to melt rubber.”

  “That sucks.”

  “You’re doomed.” Maryse and Sabine spoke at the same time, shaking their heads in sympathy. After all, they’d already been there, done that.

  “You can’t let him find out who you really are, right?” Maryse asked.

  “Well…since Sonny knows who I am, there’s really no use hiding any longer.” Her mind flashed back to the bar—her fingertip pressed against Zach’s face and every square inch of her body screaming for her to make it more.

  Maryse snapped her fingers in front of Raissa’s face and brought her back to reality. “Earth to Raissa,” Maryse said. “Where did you fade off to exactly? Oh, no, you like him.”

  “I barely know him.”

  Maryse and Sabine gave each other knowing looks. “But you’d like to jump him,” Maryse said.

  “Jeez,” Raissa said, “you’re not long on meaningless conversation, are you?”

  Sabine laughed. “Especially not when she happens to be right.”

  Raissa groaned. “Nine years of avoiding men because I can’t afford to get anyone involved with my situation—for my sake and theirs—and my body’s in overdrive for a man I should be avoiding like the plague. Not to mention, I find out that the very people I thought I was hiding from know exactly who I am and probably have for a while, which adds to my general confusion in about a million different ways.”

  Maryse nodded and wrinkled her brow. “It is strange. I mean, if the Heberts know who you are and where to find you, I’d figure you for keeping Helena company, you know?”

  “I know. That’s the part that confuses me the most. There is no love lost between me and Sonny Hebert, and as soon as the FBI gets a line on me, they’ll rush him to trial and have me testify. There’s a ten-year statute of limitations on racketeering, which is the biggie. The limit runs out on what I know in six months.”

  “Wow!” Maryse said. “So do you think them asking Hank to kill you was your cue to get the hell out of Dodge? Why bother now?”

  Raissa frowned. “I’m just guessing, but there’s only six months left that my word is any good in court, unless I turn up dead. If the government can prove conspiracy, then the statute would start on the date of the last conspiracy act. I put the police on my track when I told them about the girls. The FBI won’t be far behind, applying pressure as only the FBI can do.”

  “I get it. No statute of limitations on murder, and they might crawl all the way up Sonny’s butt, especially over an agent.”

  “Exactly.”

  “Still, that’s not going to stop the feds from coming to collect you as soon as they know where you are. How much time do you have before Just One sets off the alarms?”

  “My fingerprint is going to hit the national database—it’s probably going in as we speak—and before you know it, this building will be surrounded by local FBI, all wanting to lock me up or spirit me off to Kansas to be a chicken farmer.”

  “Is that such a bad thing?” Sabine asked.

  “It is if I want to catch Melissa Franco’s kidnapper,” Raissa said. “I know I’m close. I can feel it, just like last time. If Sonny hadn’t made me as an agent when he did, this would all be over already. The FBI can’t force me to do anything, but I’m sure they’ll send someone to try anyway.”

  Maryse looked over at Sabine, who nodded. “All the more reason to get you out of here and hidden in Mudbug,” Maryse said. “I don’t suppose it will take the FBI long to track you down there, but it might buy you a day or two.”

  Raissa downed the rest of her scotch. “I’m hoping the presence of more FBI in New Orleans, especially around my shop, will spark whoever took Melissa Franco to make a move they hadn’t planned. I’m sure someone will be checking there. I just have to hope that they report to Sonny, and that Sonny is somehow involved, and that he gets word to whoever…What a mess.”

  “And you didn’t even mention the part where you can see Helena. Not sure which is worse, her or Sonny Hebert.”

  Raissa sighed. “Thank you for reminding me. I guess the least of my worries is a sexy detective?”

  Sabine shook her head. “The understatement of the century. But the first thing we’re going to do is get you out of here and into the Mudbug Hotel, where at least you’ll have people around looking out for you, and hopefully it will take the feds a while to catch on.”

  “And your choice of many, many hotel beds, just in case the sexy detective finds you first,” Maryse said and winked at Raissa. “You’d better get to packing. Throw in something slinky, just in case.”

  Sabine wagged her finger at Maryse. “You are supposed to keep her out of trouble, not get her in more.” Sabine looked over at Raissa. “Give me a hug and wish me well. I’ll be going straight to Beau’s place from here, so this is the last time you’ll see me before I get back.”

  Raissa rose from the table and gave Sabine a hug. “Have a wonderful time. And don’t worry about anything here. I’ve got it handled.”

  Sabine released Raissa and nodded, but didn’t look convinced. She gave Maryse a
hug and left the apartment.

  Raissa headed to her room to pack a bag. This might be her last chance to catch the kidnapper. Her last chance to stop another family from going through the agony and grief of losing their child, then the hundreds of unanswered questions that had followed every return. Hiding in Mudbug wasn’t her first choice, but Maryse and Sabine were right. She wasn’t going to get much done with the FBI—or Zach Blanchard—hounding her.

  Maryse’s comment about beds flashed through her mind. Who was she kidding? If anyone was going to hunt her down in Mudbug, she couldn’t help hoping it was Zach.

  Maybe it would be easier if Sonny Hebert just killed her.

  Zach paced impatiently behind the computer, and the tech, Casey, glared at him for at least the hundredth time. “This isn’t going to go any faster with you pacing,” Casey said. “Don’t you have someone to arrest…a doughnut to eat?”

  Zach stopped pacing and shot Casey a dirty look. “I’m trying to avoid pro cessed carbs, and I might have someone to arrest, if I had the results from that fingerprint trace.”

  “It’s a national database, Detective, not internal.”

  “Damn it, I know what it is. Do you think I don’t know? This is important, is all, and there’s a lot of pressure right now.”

  Casey’s expression changed to one of sympathy. “You working the kidnapping?”

  Zach sank into a chair next to Casey, watching data whirl by on the monitor in front of them. “Yeah.”

  “I think the captain’s got the whole department on overtime.” Casey shook his head. “That case sucks all the way around. Little kid missing. Mayor’s granddaughter. Makes me glad I’m a technogeek. If I did your job, I might just shoot someone who kidnaps little girls.”

  Zach nodded. “Don’t think it doesn’t cross our minds, especially on the kid cases. But if we did, then we’d be no better than the criminals.”

  Casey didn’t look convinced. “I got a five-year-old, and I’ll tell you here and now, someone hurts her, and the judge won’t even be able to give me bail.”

  “I hear ya,” Zach agreed, and rose from his chair. “I guess I’ll get some coffee. You want anything?”

  “Nah, I drink coffee after seven p.m., and I’ve got a night of no sleep ahead.”

  “That’s the point,” Zach said, but just as he was about to leave, there was an audible click, and the data on the monitor stopped moving. In the center of the screen was a link with the words 100% match.

  “Hey,” Casey said, “we got something here.” He reached for the mouse and clicked on the link. The screen flashed for a couple of seconds, then brought up a picture of a woman that resembled Raissa, except that wasn’t the name on the screen. There was only one other line of text on the screen: Wanted for questioning by the FBI.

  Zach bit the inside of his lip. As if he needed any more trouble, and he’d likely just brought the feds down on the department by running that print. Damn it to hell. Casey looked up at Zach, the look on his face mirroring the way Zach felt.

  “FBI?” Casey said. “The captain’s going to shit.”

  “You think?” Zach ran one hand through his hair and paced the tiny office a couple of times. “Send me that link,” he said finally. “I better get upstairs. I’m sure it won’t be long before the bureau is knocking on the captain’s door.”

  Zach hurried out of the office and down the stairs to his department. Of all the things he’d been expecting to find, this one hadn’t been on the list. What in the world was Raissa mixed up in? He knew little more about her now than he did before he’d run the print, and the last people he expected a straight answer from were the feds. He fought the urge to drive over to her apartment and question her immediately, but he knew better. Department policy was clear. When the feds wanted someone, they had to be contacted first. Local PD could not get involved with a federal case unless asked.

  And the chances of the feds asking for favors was slim to none.

  Which meant Zach was back to zero on Raissa Bordeaux and her magical, mystical visions. He sat down at his desk and opened his e-mail. Casey had already sent the link, so he clicked on it and opened the page again. It was definitely her, he decided as he studied the picture more closely. Her hair was different, and she’d obviously had some surgery done, because the nose and cheekbones were different. But he had no doubt it was the same woman. He leaned back in his chair, remembering the scene at the bar.

  There was something about the man Raissa had talked to that was familiar, but he couldn’t place it exactly. He leaned forward and accessed recent arrest records. Maybe the guy was someone he’d seen being processed in the precinct. Thirty minutes later, his eyes were watering and he still hadn’t located the man from the bar. He was just about to try another tactic when his captain stuck his head out of his office and yelled at him, his angry voice booming across the office.

  “Blanchard, get your ass in here now!”

  Detective Morrow looked over at him, eyebrows raised. “Uh-oh. Looks like someone’s in trouble.”

  Zach clenched his jaw and managed to walk past Morrow without saying a word. He stepped into the captain’s office, expecting a spectacular reaming, but was surprised to find that the captain wasn’t alone. One look at the man and Zach knew exactly what he was—the dark suit, starched white shirt, perfectly knotted tie, sunglasses (worn inside), and the fact that he stood in front of the captain’s desk rather than sitting in one of the chairs. Definitely a fed.

  “That was fast,” Zach said. “What did she do, steal your personality?”

  “Zip it, Blanchard.” The captain shot him a warning look. “This is Special Agent Fields with the local office of the FBI. He wants to know where you got the print you ran. And so do I.”

  Zach hesitated for a moment, not wanting to give away his information, but he couldn’t think of a single way around it that didn’t involve his going to jail. Which wouldn’t exactly help his quest for a promotion. “I got it off a suspect.”

  “What suspect?” the captain asked. “The only case you better be working is the kidnapping, and I haven’t been made aware of any suspects.”

  “Maybe suspect is too strong a word. Person of interest is probably better.”

  “And just how did you come up with this person of interest, and why haven’t I been informed?”

  “She came into the station yesterday and claimed to have psychically received information on the kidnapping.”

  “And you believed her?” The captain stared at him as if he’d lost his mind.

  “Of course not. But when I ran the case through the national database, I realized that she was right. She’d given me information on all the previous kidnappings with a similar MO. Things that were never released to the papers.”

  The captain’s face turned red. “Jesus H. Christ, Blanchard! And you didn’t think that was something the rest of us should know? That woman either took those kids or knows who did.” The captain looked over at Agent Fields. “Someone better start explaining. Why does the FBI want this woman?”

  “That information is confidential,” Agent Fields replied.

  “Confidential, my ass!” The captain rose from his chair and glared at Fields. “If that woman was involved with kidnapping the mayor’s granddaughter, I want to know why.”

  “She wasn’t involved with the kidnapping,” Agent Fields said.

  “Says who?” the captain asked.

  “Says the Federal Bureau of Investigation,” Agent Fields replied, a bored look on his face. “Now, if Detective Blanchard would provide me with this woman’s alias and her address, you’ll be free to go about your business.”

  “And if I don’t?” Zach challenged.

  Agent Fields smiled. “It wouldn’t be very good for your career to refuse. Federal prison is generally not a pleasant place for cops.”

  Zach clenched his fists and fought the urge to clock the condescending butthole. “Her alias is Raissa Bordeaux. She owns a shop on Landry Street.�
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  Agent Fields removed a BlackBerry from his front pocket and tapped the keys. “Address?”

  “I don’t have it memorized, but you can’t miss it. It’s the only shop on the street with tarot cards and a crystal ball painted on the window.”

  “Great,” Agent Fields said. “This department is under orders not to contact Ms. Bordeaux in any way. Is that clear?”

  “Now, hold it one minute,” the captain argued. “This woman is the only lead we have in a kidnapping, and you’re telling us to step off but giving us no good reason why?”

  “Exactly,” Agent Fields said. “I’m so glad you understand.” He slipped the BlackBerry back in his pocket and walked out of the office without another word.

  Zach stared at the captain. “He can just leave like that?”

  The captain stared after Fields and muttered something that sounded like “worthless motherfucker,” but since Zach wasn’t completely sure whether the captain was referring to Agent Fields or himself, he didn’t comment.

  “Yeah,” the captain said, “he can leave just like that.” He pointed at Zach. “You are going to sit down and tell me everything you know about this Bordeaux woman.”

  Zach sighed. “I could tell you everything I know before I even finished sitting.”

  Five minutes later, the captain was convinced that whatever Raissa was into, it probably wasn’t going to help their case. Or he just didn’t want to admit that they would be in deep shit if they talked to her again. Either way, Zach had his walking orders from the FBI and his captain: no contact with Raissa Bordeaux.

  It was a shame he had no intention of listening to either of them.

  Chapter Six

  Maryse looked over at Raissa, tapping away on her laptop, and bit her lip. “Are you sure this is a good idea?”

  Raissa opened the glove compartment of Maryse’s car and tucked a black box with a wire inside, hoping her hastily rigged equipment worked as planned. “Of course it’s not a good idea. Why do you think we’re here at midnight?”