The Night He Died

by Stacy Green

  Maybe I should tell him what I know. Then he can handle it. But would he be allowed to? The London Club’s threats were no joke. Cage could only dig his heels in so far before he lost his job.

  And I want a chance to take that bitch down.

  I wouldn’t have to tell him everything. Just a crucial piece about Zoey to push him in the right direction.

  “I’ll bring the cup back.” He stares down at me with half-opened eyes. “Thanks for letting me crash even if your couch needs to be thrown out.”

  “Couch is fine. Your six-four ass is the problem.”

  He grunted. “Don’t forget what I said. Keep me in the loop.”

  “I told you I would.” But not today. Maybe not ever if I can take care of it myself. “Watch your back out there, Foster. Don’t let the fireworks get you.”

  He’s already at the door and flips me off without looking back.

  23

  Cage rubbed his temples. Pounding head, cotton mouth, watery images of last night—the makings of a hangover he didn’t have time for. He should have left after talking to Annabeth. Now he had a headache and Hart’s message pounding in his head.

  Annabeth probably told him about his mother and sister. Was Hart trying to impress him? Why did he care what Cage thought about his abilities?

  How did he know about the swing in the oak tree? He and his sister spent hours playing in it as kids, but Hart couldn’t have known about that.

  Guesswork. Live oaks were everywhere. So were tire swings. End of story.

  His sour stomach turned when he pulled into the driveway. Dani was loading Emma into her car seat.

  Cage jumped out of the car, head throbbing. “What are you doing?”

  She tossed her purse into the front seat. Sunglasses hid her eyes, but the set of her hips and the tightness in her face said plenty. “Running errands.”

  He sighed with relief and then immediately felt stupid. Did he really think she was leaving? “I’m sorry about last night.”

  “What about it? You did the responsible thing and didn’t drive.”

  “I shouldn’t have gone in the first place,” he said. “You expected me home.”

  She sighed. “To watch Emma so I could have a conference call. Remember, I still have a job.” Dani’s skill in historic preservation had led her to Mississippi—and ultimately Cage. The Historic New Orleans Collection had offered her a part-time research position without hesitation.

  Sonofabitch. He knew he’d forgotten something yesterday. “I was so focused on the case yesterday. I forgot. Why didn’t you tell me when I texted you about going to the bar?”

  “It was too late by then. I’d already rescheduled, and I didn’t want to get into a text argument.”

  “I’m sorry. I’m on information overload with this case. My head’s up my ass.”

  “Agent Rogers stopped by last night because you didn’t answer your cell. I told him you were blowing off steam with some friends.”

  He’d intended to call his boss after the show last night. More texts this morning made him seriously concerned for his job. “What did he say?”

  “That you showed up at the London Club making accusations, and now Brooks Hughes is demanding you be suspended.”

  He raised a finger, instantly irritated. “These uppity assholes are in this PhoeniX thing up to their ears, Dee. Those doubloons came from a junior member who was blackmailed. And Zoey ties into this somehow.”

  She shook her head. “I get it. You saw Masen die on the night you almost did, and you couldn’t save him. Your knight tendencies have kicked in—and so have your obsessive ones.”

  “I can’t help it. I’m right on the cusp of something big, I know it. And some power players are involved.”

  “I thought finding those missing women was the priority.”

  “It is, but this is all part of it.”

  “And drinking until three a.m. is part of it?” she asked. “I wouldn’t care if you weren’t supposed to be home. But the client wasn’t happy about rescheduling.”

  “I swear if I’d remembered, I wouldn’t have gone. But I didn’t, and then I couldn’t pass up the chance to talk to Lyric.”

  “Lyric was there?”

  “I ran into her on the way.” After dive-bombing onto the sidewalk like an air raid victim. “I found a copy of that PhoeniX blue book in her room the other day. I needed to find out what she knows.”

  “What were you doing in her room?” She pushed her sunglasses onto her forehead, revealing dark circles under her eyes.

  He flushed. “She wasn’t home. I followed a gut feeling.”

  “Did you get everything you needed from her?” The edge in her voice sharpened.

  “Probably not.” He wasn’t about to tell Dani about Lyric’s testing him last night.

  “That girl is going to get you in trouble.”

  “You sound like Bonin.”

  “She killed that man, and you covered for her.”

  “The alligators killed him,” Cage said.

  “She let it happen.”

  “Can you blame her? He kidnapped her and tortured her for years. It’s his fault Annabeth is this way.”

  “No, I can’t blame her,” she said. “But I can blame you for risking your job.”

  “Sometimes you have to take a risk to do the right thing.”

  She shook her head. “Maybe you’re right. But I’m afraid she’s going to lead you into something you can’t get out of.”

  He inched toward her. “I’ll call Rogers and work it out.”

  “Your stubbornness is one of the things I love about you, but we uprooted everything for this job. And you keep putting it on the line. Is putting it to the high society people really worth losing the job?”

  “It’s more than that, Dee. I’m supposed be an asset to stop the corruption, and not six months in, I’m being asked to join the swamp.”

  “Sometimes you have to play by others’ rules to get what you want. And sometimes you don’t get it and have to settle for second best.”

  “Not this time,” Cage said. “Not with Masen dead and Trish and Zoey God knows where. I just can’t.”

  She sighed and closed the distance between them, taking his face into her hands. “You’re going to have to deal with the real issue at some point.”

  “Which is what?”

  “You were chased down and shot. Instead of dealing with it, you’re just channeling all your emotions into this case. You can’t keep going like this forever.”

  He scowled. “You sound like Lyric.”

  “Well, maybe you’ll listen to her about it then.” She drew away, cold as ice.

  “Dee, come on. I’m fine. Please trust me on that.”

  “I always trust you, except when it comes to admitting you need help. I’ll be back in a couple of hours. I assume you’ll be working?”

  Cage nodded and peered into the back window. Emma slept in her car seat, drooling.

  “Let me know when you’ll be home,” Dani said.

  “I will.”

  He watched her drive away, wishing he’d told her about Hart and about the nightmares and sidewalk dive yesterday. But every time he thought about talking to her, he tasted the fear from that night, felt the loss of control. He didn’t have time to deal with it right now, but he would after this case was over.

  His pocket vibrated. He’d rather eat dirt than check the text.

  “You have ninety minutes to get in the office, or you’re fired.”

  24

  Cage stopped short at the sight of Detective Bonin sitting across from Agent Rogers. Bonin was his liaison at the NOPD and partner—she didn’t answer to Rogers.

  “This feels like an intervention.”

  “You could use it.” Rogers looked like he might come across the desk at any moment. “The hell you thinking?”

  “Sir, I understand you’re in a lousy position, but we need to force the London Club’s hand. Carson Hughes is willing to help.”
>
  “That’s not what I’m talking about. We’ll get to that.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “How many times did I call and text you last night? Because I lost count.”

  “I was off duty.”

  Rogers slammed his hand down on the desk. A heavy paperweight thudded to the floor. “You knew your ass was going to get chewed. So instead of taking it, you go and blow off steam. At The Black Sheep, no less, where the victim lived. And while two women are still missing.”

  “I was working,” Cage lied. “I have an informant who has one of the blue books. I interviewed her. And yeah, I stayed to watch a show.”

  “Who’s the informant?” Rogers asked.

  “She works in the club where Zoey and Trish were last seen.” He glanced at Bonin out of the corner of his eye. She kept her eyes on Rogers.

  “And what did she tell you?”

  Not a damn thing, as usual. “She grabbed the book in another club—she can’t remember the name. But she’s going to keep her ears open.”

  “So, a waste of time.”

  “I don’t think so,” Cage said. “She can help. And I didn’t end up completely empty-handed yesterday. Don’t you want to know why I went to the London Club?”

  “Better be damn good.”

  Cage told him about Matthew Leighton’s video and his insistence that Zoey shouldn’t know about their membership status. “And Carson Hughes says there was a rumor a few months back that some junior member was blackmailed by a woman.”

  “You think that woman got the doubloons in the exchange?”

  “Makes sense, doesn’t it?”

  Rogers shook his head. “How did Masen end up with them?”

  “I might be able to answer that.” Bonin spoke for the first time. “Late yesterday afternoon, you asked the fingerprint guys to see if any of the prints lifted from the apartment matched the ones on the doubloons.”

  He’d made the call during the walk to Frenchman Street, before Lyric and the air raid. “They said it would be a couple of days.”

  “They must have rushed it. You didn’t respond to their messages, so they sent me the information. Two definitive sets of prints are on the doubloons. One is unknown, the second matches the ones from Zoey’s hairbrush.”

  “I knew it,” Cage said. “She’s the one who blackmailed the junior member. That’s how she got the doubloons.”

  “Masen stole them?” Rogers asked. “If they’re worth as much as you say they are, that’s motive.”

  “Masen’s prints weren’t on the doubloons,” Bonin said. “I had them check this morning. He never had them. She must have put them in his pocket.”

  Rogers dragged his hands over his face. “We still don’t have motive or any connection between her and Masen. What if she needed to get rid of the doubloons and seized the chance?”

  “She’s the only one who can answer that.”

  “We need to get her records from Loyola today. Somehow, she’s connected to The PhoeniX. And the London Club.”

  Rogers grimaced. “Until you can identify the original owner of the doubloons and tie him to the blackmail, the London Club is off-limits. Finding Zoey Roberts is the priority.”

  “And what if I find her and she points the finger at someone powerful enough to influence the deputy superintendent and the mayor?”

  “I’ll deal with that if it happens.” Roger exhaled and tipped his chair back. “Look, tiptoeing around them chaps my ass every bit as much as it does yours. But you have to put that aside and look at the bigger picture. Work things to your advantage within the rules.”

  “The rules suck.”

  “Too bad,” Rogers said. “The coroner has officially ruled Masen Malone’s death a suicide. Deputy Superintendent Parsons wants you off the case. Off the job, actually. That’s not his call.”

  “What happens now?”

  “You do your job and find these women. But she signs off on everything.” He pointed to Bonin. “As far as the NOPD’s concerned, she’s working solo.”

  “Thank you, sir.”

  “I won’t put my balls on the line for you again.”

  “Understood.”

  He waved them off. “You’ll have your warrant for Loyola later today.”

  Bonin cleared her throat. “Sir, I’m not sure that’s going to be an option.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “I’m going to be out the next two days for a family emergency. I was actually getting ready to leave when you called me in.”

  “Dumas know about this?”

  “I spoke to him this morning.”

  “I should have spoken with him first.” Rogers tapped his pen on the desk. “Christ on a cracker. Foster, you’re a pain in the ass.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Do your job. File the reports late. Keep your nose down. Detective Bonin takes over the missing women when she returns. Good luck with your emergency.”

  “What’s going on?” Cage asked as they exited the building.

  “My mother and I are checking my brother into a facility in Baton Rouge. Supposed to be top notch. The timing sucks, I know, but a spot opened up, and he won’t go without me.”

  “It’s fine,” Cage said. “I hope it goes smoothly.”

  “Thanks.” She smirked. “Lyric is an informant now?”

  He laughed. “I’d have lost my job for sure if I used her name.”

  “You really think she’ll share information?”

  “I have no idea.”

  “Sounds about right.” She stuffed her hands in her pockets. “I can’t believe you marched up to the London Club’s door.”

  “You should have seen the first guy’s face. Made my day.”

  “I’m sure it did. Carson Hughes said he would help?”

  “Probably after Mardi Gras. He can’t be obvious about it. Stupid.”

  “Tox reports came back on Masen,” Bonin said. “Hydrochloric acid at an extremely toxic level. Traces of fentanyl were found in his system too.”

  “Annabeth said he did hard stuff. We have to get that shit off the streets. Vice can’t handle all of it.”

  “Not our job right now. The bigger question is why did Zoey Roberts want him dead?”

  His phone vibrated, and he impulsively checked to see if it was Dani.

  “Dr. Hughes.” Cage rolled his eyes at Bonin and prepared to get his second chewing out over the London Club.

  “Did you get a warrant for my records yet?”

  Where was this headed? “Judge made it clear we aren’t getting it.”

  Ginger sighed. “I can’t risk giving you Masen’s records without a warrant.”

  “I get it. Privacy laws are a bitch.”

  “I can, however, make a suggestion.”

  Cage’s heart raced. He caught Bonin’s eye and pointed to the phone. “Go ahead.”

  “Ask Fatbacks about Masen’s fight a few months ago.”

  “A fight?” Cage asked. “With who?”

  “I can’t tell you that,” Ginger said. “Masen was so unhinged when he spoke about it, I thought he might have imagined the entire thing. But your questions about … certain individuals made me reconsider.”

  Layla. Masen got into it at Fatbacks over Layla. Or with her? “Why did you decide to share this now?”

  “Because you confronted the London Club snobs. That took guts.”

  25

  Cage’s shoes peeled off the bar’s floor. He hoped the grime came from layers of spilled alcohol and not bodily fluids. Late afternoon, and people jammed Fatbacks to near capacity. Cage maneuvered his way to the bar and flagged down the bartender.

  He made it from one end of the bar to the other in three steps. New Orleans’s finest. How can I help?”

  Cage’s defenses shot up instantly. “Good guess.”

  “Not really,” he said. “I’m Jared, the manager. Checked the security footage for you the other day. I called a Detective Bonin to let her know the video only showed the
girls coming and going with their friend. The inside cameras are pretty much worthless at night.”

  Cage had completely forgotten. “Sorry. This case has about fifty different angles. You happen to remember if this kid came in a while back and made some big accusations?” He showed the bartender a picture of Masen.

  Jared’s blond hair looked white beneath the bright lights as he studied the picture. “He looks familiar, but I can’t place him. We have a constant stream of drunk guys saying stupid shit, so it’s entirely possible. You want a drink?”

  “On duty. Thanks, though. Are you always this busy at four p.m. on a weekday?”

  “During Carnival season, pretty much. But two parades roll through tonight, and Fatbacks is on both routes.”

  Jared moved on to the crowd lining up around the bar. Decked out in various Carnival paraphernalia, they eagerly loaded up on drinks before the parade. Another bartender hurried from the back, and she and Jared worked their way through the orders.

  “Check with Big Gary.” Jared handed a beer to someone behind Cage. “He’s head of security, so he practically lives here. He might be able to help.”

  Big Gary perched on a stool outside, wearing a purple top hat decked out with gold and green ribbons that barely fit his bald head.

  “Help you?”

  “Agent Cage Foster.”

  “Figured you were a cop. I check every ID—twice. I can spot a fake. No underaged kids here.” He flexed his Hulk-sized biceps as he handed back IDs to a couple of jittery jocks.

  “Not here to bust your balls,” Cage said. “Jared told me you might be able to help me out.”

  “I’ll do my best.”

  Big Gary hadn’t been working during Cage and Bonin’s initial visit, so Cage showed him the picture of Zoey and Trish. “These women are missing. You recognize them at all?”

  “The redhead looks familiar,” Big Gary said. “Probably ID’d her at some point.”

  Cage swiped the phone to bring up the picture of Masen. “You remember this guy coming in and causing a scene a while ago?”

  “Oh, hell yeah. That dude was weird. He came in a bunch of nights in a row, and he’d just sit at the bar, watching. Never talked to anyone until the night he got his ass tossed.” Big Gary held up a meaty hand to a girl who didn’t even look old enough to drive.