A weathered wooden sign read MCLEAN’S.
Nathan pulled open a kelly green door and nodded for her to go ahead of him.
Inside was dim and cool, and Alex’s mouth immediately started watering. Fried shrimp. She’d recognize the smell anywhere.
Nathan didn’t wait for a hostess, but ushered her through a narrow room with tables on one side and a long wooden bar on the other. He claimed a small table at the back, right next to a raised stage. The platform was empty now, except for a microphone.
Nathan pulled out a chair for her, and Alex was about to sit down when she heard a squeal.
The next moment, a red-haired woman was beside them, and Nathan lifted her off her feet in a big hug.
“It is you!” She slapped his arm as he finally put her down. “Mac said you were in town!”
She turned her flushed, smiling face to Alex.
“I’m Vera.”
“Alex.”
Her attention snapped back to Nathan, who was grinning at her. “How long you here for?”
Alex looked the woman over as she and Nathan exchanged chitchat. Besides saying vaguely that he was in town “on business,” he didn’t allude to what had brought him to New Orleans.
Despite the wine red hair, Vera had to be in her sixties. From the conversation, Alex gathered she was a friend of Nathan’s family, probably his parents. Alex glanced around uneasily, suddenly wondering who else might turn up.
“What can I get you?
“Uh…” Alex glanced at Nathan.
“I’m having a beer,” he supplied.
Alex remembered her pill-induced daze earlier and ordered an iced tea.
“You okay with spicy?” Nathan asked her.
“Yeah, sure.”
“Two gumbos, then,” he told Vera. “And a baguette.”
They finally sat down at their table, and Alex looked around. The bar was dark and noisy, and Alex couldn’t believe she was sitting here in the middle of the afternoon. She checked her watch.
“Relax.”
She sighed impatiently.
“We’ll get to everything, I promise. But you need to eat first.”
The drinks came, and Alex dumped sugar in her tea as Nathan and Vera exchanged more small talk.
“She’s friendly,” Alex said when she left.
“She and my folks go way back.”
“They around, too?”
The corner of his mouth ticked up. “Why? Nervous?”
“Why should I be nervous?”
He leaned forward on his elbows. “You don’t want to meet my family. Makes you antsy just thinking about it.”
She frowned at him, and he smiled at her before taking a sip of his beer.
“My dad’s in Baton Rouge,” he said. “Has been since Hurricane Katrina. He lives with my only sister.”
“And your mother?”
“She died eleven years ago.”
Alex looked down into her tea. “I’m sorry.” She felt like a jerk. She’d been dreading the prospect of meeting the woman. “How’d she die?” she asked, and immediately regretted the question.
“Breast cancer.”
“I’m sorry.” She blamed the drugs for her sudden lack of tact. When she glanced up again, Nathan was watching her closely.
“You’re not tight with your family, are you?” he asked.
“Why do you say that?”
“You never talk about them. Seems like the whole subject makes you uncomfortable.”
“Not really.” She stirred her tea. “I just don’t have much to say, I guess. They’re pretty boring.”
He waited for her to elaborate.
“They’ve lived in the same house for twenty-five years,” she said. “Worked at the same jobs. They eat the same thing for dinner every Sunday night, right after 60 Minutes comes on. There’s nothing to say about it.”
“That says a lot.” Nathan turned his beer glass on top of the cardboard coaster. “Are they happy?”
Alex laughed at the straightforwardness of the question.
“Are they?”
She looked at him for a long moment. “No.” She glanced away. “At least, my mom isn’t. I don’t know about my dad. He likes routine, so maybe he’s fine with it.”
“But your mom’s stir crazy?”
Alex traced a finger through the condensation on her glass. How had they gotten onto this? “She’s unfulfilled,” she said carefully. “She’s been teaching the same courses for twenty years. Grading the same mediocre term papers. Going on the same vacation every summer to Wisconsin.”
Nathan’s eyebrows tipped up.
“I think she’s just, I don’t know, bored. Settled.”
“Too settled,” Nathan said.
Alex shrugged again. Who was she to judge? But that was exactly what she thought. She’d go insane living that way. That was why she’d left rather than graduate college in her hometown with a degree from the school where both her parents had tenure.
He leaned forward on his elbows again. “That why you run away from relationships?”
“I don’t run away from relationships.”
“Uh-huh. But you’ve never been married, right?”
“So?”
“So you’re beautiful. Smart. Successful. How come nobody’s landed you yet?”
“What makes you think I’m sitting around waiting to get married?”
“I don’t,” he said. “Hey, don’t get mad. I’m just curious. You seem timid about relationships, but you’re not a timid person. It’s an inconsistency. Inconsistencies get my attention.”
“Don’t psychoanalyze me. Jesus. I get enough of that from my mom.”
His mouth curved into a slight smile. “So I’m not the only who’s noticed it. That’s good. I was wondering if it was something to do with me.”
She cocked her head to the side. “You’re really nosy, you know that? How’d you like me to sit here giving you the third degree?”
“Fire away.”
“Okay. How come your wife divorced you?”
He lifted an eyebrow. “Who says it wasn’t the other way around?”
“I do. You’re old-fashioned. And your background’s Catholic. I bet you would have stuck around to work things out if she’d wanted to.”
He took a sip of beer.
“See? Isn’t it fun being in the hot seat?”
He met her gaze. “Nicole and I wanted different things out of life. But we got married young, and we were too dumb to realize it.”
“But you still see her.”
“Occasionally.”
Alex assumed that meant sex, but she didn’t have the guts to ask. Instead, she scrounged up her courage and asked the question that had been plaguing her since yesterday morning. “Are you still in love with her?”
“No.”
He watched her for a long moment. Then he reached across the table and took her hand. She wanted to pull away, but that would only prove his “timid” hypothesis.
“I don’t know why we’re talking about this,” she said.
“We’re getting to know each other. You’re just not comfortable because you like to do all your snooping on the computer so you don’t have to admit you give a damn.” He squeezed her hand. “You’ve been pissed off at me since yesterday morning. I’m just clearing the air here.”
“Gee, thanks.” She tugged her hand away and picked up her tea. It bothered her to be read so well. She searched for a new topic.
“What about you?” she asked. “Why’d you leave New Orleans?”
He watched her for a beat. Then his gaze shifted around the room. “My dad spent his life here.”
“Here, like, here?”
He nodded. “I practically grew up in this bar. But I was always more interested in what was happening outside.”
Alex watched him, trying to picture a younger Nathan Devereaux in this same setting. She glanced behind the polished wooden counter and imagined him chatting with customers and pulling
on the taps. She could imagine it just fine, but she didn’t blame him for wanting to go out on his own. Alex was in touch with that emotion.
“So,” he said. “Now that we’ve covered pretty much everything else, are you going to talk to me?”
“About?”
“About what the hell’s going on.”
CHAPTER TWENTY - THREE
What were you planning to do? Put her on a plane to Brazil?”
Alex stirred her tea. “I didn’t want her on a plane anywhere. I was going to drive her to Mexico.”
“With a fake passport.”
“Yes.”
She glanced up. He didn’t look surprised by this news.
“Austin’s a lot closer to the border,” he observed.
“No kidding. But Melanie changed the plan. She wanted to meet in New Orleans. Said her safe spot was here.”
“What’s that?”
“A place she keeps important stuff,” Alex said. “Though why she needed anything, I don’t really know. I was lending her money.”
Nathan shook his head, and Alex tensed. “What?”
“You and your lost causes. It’s a wonder your business turns a profit.”
The waitress appeared with a tray, cutting off Alex’s retort. The lecture was starting, and she didn’t want to hear it.
Nathan doused his soup with Tabasco sauce, and Alex ripped off a chunk of warm, crusty bread.
“You know, I didn’t ask you to come here.”
“I’m aware of that.” He scooped up a bite.
“I didn’t ask you for anything.”
“I’m aware of that, too.” He held her gaze for a long moment, and she looked away.
Alex dipped a chunk of bread in her gumbo and tried to collect her thoughts.
“Coghan’s being sought for questioning.”
Her gaze snapped up. “They haven’t found him?”
“Not yet,” Nathan said. “Supposedly, he was headed to his dad’s place this weekend. That’s down in Freeport. But you seem to think he came here.”
“I know he did.”
“But you didn’t see him.”
“It was him. He had access to Melanie’s e-mail account. She lured him here—”
“But you didn’t see him.” He looked at her intently.
“No.”
“You see the problem here, Alex? When he turns up, he’s probably going to have an alibi.”
“He always has an alibi.” Alex picked at the bread, frustrated.
“He’s a cop. What’d you expect?”
Alex shook her head and scooped a bite of soup. It was steamy and spicy, and she relished the way it burned a path down her throat.
“What did your electronic snitch tell you?” he asked drily.
She glanced up, and Nathan’s expression told her he already knew what she was going to say. She’d checked the GPS tracking program from her phone in the emergency room.
“His truck was in Freeport last night,” she admitted. “But that doesn’t mean he was.”
Nathan kept his opinion of this theory to himself. “You know what a grow house is?” he asked, changing the subject.
“No.”
“Troy Stockton’s got his eye on those vacant homes in Captain’s Point. He thinks they’re being outfitted as grow houses. Indoor marijuana farms.”
Alex gaped at him. “Does anyone else know about this?”
“Evidently, a federal task force does. Hodges made some calls this morning. The feds have pulled the power records of at least a dozen homes in that neighborhood.”
She rested her spoon on the table. “What do they want with—”
“Energy. The lamps, the ventilation systems eat up an incredible amount of power. It’s one way to pinpoint the locations. Those three homes Coghan visited were just the tip of the iceberg, apparently.”
“Why doesn’t somebody arrest him, for God’s sake? What’s he doing on the job still?”
Nathan’s brow furrowed. “I don’t like it, either. My guess is, they’re setting up some kind of sting op, hoping to get some people higher up the food chain. Coghan’s involved in a complicated operation. The drug trade in Austin’s tightly controlled by a few rival gangs with direct ties to Mexican cartels. It’s very well organized. It’s not possible those organizations would let him run his own gig independently. He’s got to be connected. Which probably has the feds salivating.”
Alex shook her head, unable to believe it. “Perfect. Our local drug czar’s in bed with drug gangs. And yet he’s still out on the street, trying to gun down his wife.”
“I’m working on it.”
“You’re working on it?”
He nodded, and Alex watched him, confused now. Was he saying that to mollify her? Or was there really a case against Coghan?
He gazed at her for a long moment and seemed to decide something.
“I think he’s good for three murders,” he said. “If Melanie dies, that makes four.”
“You think he killed three people?”
“I’ve got three open cases with the same MO. Three victims strangled with a length of baling wire. A sample of the wire’s at the Delphi Center right now being analyzed by Mia.”
Alex sat back, shocked. She saw the tension in his face, the spark of anger in his eyes.
“You do care about this,” she said.
“Of course I care.”
A burden lifted off her shoulders. She wasn’t doing this alone anymore.
Nathan shook his head and gazed down into his beer. “Coghan’s given every cop in the state a black eye. He’s violated the public trust in every way that matters. He’s responsible for at least three homicides, if not more. You bet your ass I care.”
“I didn’t realize… so are you going to go to the feds?”
He turned his glass of beer. “I haven’t decided yet. I want him for murder one, not drug charges. He belongs on death row, not in some white-collar prison after he cuts a deal.”
“Sounds like you’ve given this a lot of thought.” Alex watched him carefully.
“Why’s that surprise you?”
She shrugged. “I don’t know, it’s just… You’ve been pushing so hard for me to drop this case, I didn’t think it mattered to you.”
“Of course it matters. But you matter more.”
He pinned her with a long, steady look, and her stomach fluttered. She didn’t know what to do with that. How could she matter to him? He didn’t even know her, really.
Alex’s phone chimed, saving her from having to respond. She reached beneath the table and dug it out of her purse.
Nathan watched her take the call and wondered if he’d revealed too much. Hell, yes, he cared. About her. About this case. What had she thought? That he wouldn’t give a damn that one of his colleagues, someone he’d once considered a friend, was responsible for a string of killings? For abusing his authority as a police officer?
He could see that he’d caught her off guard, and he found that ironic. She’d gone to bed with him. She’d shared her body with him. And yet, the whole time, she must have thought he was a callous son of a bitch not to care about this case.
Damn right he cared.
But he cared about her more, a fact that clearly didn’t sit well with her.
She pulled the phone from her ear and frowned at the screen.
“Who did you say you are?” she asked the caller. A pause. “Sponsor of what?”
Nathan watched her brow furrow as she checked her watch.
“I don’t think—” she stopped, obviously interrupted, and shot him a frustrated look. “Hold on a sec.” She muted the phone. “You know where St. Louis Cathedral is?” she asked him.
“A stone’s throw from here. Why?”
“This woman wants me to meet her there in ten minutes.”
“Who is she?”
“She claims to be a friend of Melanie’s. She says it’s important.”
“You told me Melanie didn’t have any frien
ds.”
“I didn’t think she did,” Alex said. “But this woman’s her former AA sponsor, apparently. Maybe she’s the reason Melanie picked New Orleans for her safe spot.”
“I don’t like it,” Nathan said, and that was putting it mildly. “She could be anybody. She could be with Coghan.”
Alex pursed her lips. She got back on the phone. “I’ll be there,” she told her. “But I’m bringing my bodyguard, and he’s armed. Heavily.” She listened for a few more moments and clicked off.
“Your bodyguard?”
She dropped the phone into her purse and stood up. “That’s why you’re here, right? To babysit me? Now’s your chance.” She pulled some bills out of her wallet and tried to leave them on the table, but he beat her to it. He took a last swig of beer and followed her toward the exit.
“How far is this church?” she asked over her shoulder.
“Not far. But you’re not going near it until I check this out.”
“Nathan—”
“No arguing. I’ll call a friend with NOPD and see if they can get a patrol unit over there to sit on the location.”
They stepped from the air-conditioned bar into the humidity, and Alex glanced up at the midafternoon sun. “This better be quick. I want to get to the hospital.”
Nathan put his hand on the small of her back and steered her toward the street. “What was her name again?”
“Peggy.”
“Peggy what?” He asked, heading toward Jackson Square.
“I didn’t ask,” Alex said. “She just said it was important. Maybe she has Melanie’s valuables or something. All her important stuff was supposed to be stashed here in town.”
Nathan fished his phone from his pocket and put in a call to a buddy. After a brief exchange, he clicked off.
“They’ve got units patrolling the Quarter,” he told Alex. “He’ll get someone to head over to the church, camp out there for a little while.”
“Sounds good,” Alex said, and quickened her pace.
But Nathan still wasn’t happy. He glanced up and down the block, looking for anything suspicious.
A Tracers Trilogy Page 21
