by Jana DeLeon
“Yes, but I made her promise to tell me if she did. She said it wasn’t my responsibility to deal with it. I told her I’d been waiting to deal with it for nine years.”
“How’d she take that?”
“Fine, I guess. At least I hope she’ll tell me. I don’t want to keep pushing.”
“I know. It’s a fine line between making yourself available and wanting to help, and stepping over the line that has her keeping it all to herself.”
Corrine bit her lip and stared down at her glass of tea. Finally she looked back up at Eleonore. “I know you can’t tell me what she says in therapy, but you’d tell me if she was in danger, right? If things ever get to the point that I need to get her security? She’d hate it, but I wouldn’t care.”
Eleonore reached across the table and squeezed Corrine’s hand. “If Shaye is ever in danger, he’ll have to go through both of us to get to her. That’s a promise.”
Corrine felt her eyes begin to water. For almost as long as she could remember, Eleonore had been there for her. And then she’d been there for Shaye. So many times, Corrine wished she had the words to tell her friend how much she meant to her, but each time she tried, the words never seemed enough. She looked across the counter at her friend.
Eleonore smiled. “I know.”
Corrine smiled back at her friend and then jumped when her laptop started beeping.
“What’s that?” Eleonore asked.
Corrine pulled her laptop over in front of her. “I got a hit on that missing girl that Shaye is looking for.”
Eleonore hurried around the counter and leaned over, reading the screen with Corrine.
“Mandy LeDoux. Baton Rouge. Fifteen years old.” Eleonore shook her head. “Looks like your counterparts over in the capital city paid her mother a couple of visits.”
“Apparently not enough of them.” Corrine leaned back in her chair and blew out a breath. “It’s times like this that I want to scream at the system. It fails so many times.”
“And it works thousands of others.”
“It failed this girl and she wound up on the streets in New Orleans. Now God only knows what’s happened to her.”
Eleonore pointed to the screen. “Looks like it was her maternal aunt who reported her missing. She lives here in Uptown.”
Corrine reached for her cell phone. “I better let Shaye know. She’s going to want to talk to the aunt.”
* * *
Shaye clutched the steering wheel, trying to control her emotions, but it was hard. Jinx’s aunt was a five-minute drive away, and Shaye was excited to meet the woman and see what she had to say. All sorts of questions ran through Shaye’s mind. Did Jinx come to New Orleans because of her aunt? If so, why was she on the streets? The aunt had listed Jinx’s last known address as the shack Jinx’s mother lived in outside Baton Rouge when social services had paid her a visit. Maybe the woman didn’t know Jinx was in New Orleans.
The aunt’s house was tiny and narrow and needed a coat of paint, but it was in a decent neighborhood. Shaye parked at the curb and walked up the sidewalk, hoping Cora LeDoux was at home. Corrine had given her Cora’s phone number, but Shaye preferred face-to-face meetings for this sort of exchange, and she liked it when people had no warning…no time to prepare in case they were hiding something.
She knocked on the door and waited. A couple seconds later, she heard movement inside. Several seconds later, the door swung open and a thin middle-aged woman with short spiky black hair and pale skin stared out at her.
“Cora LeDoux?” Shaye asked.
“Yes.”
Shaye pulled out her wallet and showed Cora her identification. “My name is Shaye Archer. I’m a private investigator.”
Cora’s eyes widened. “An investigator? What in the world do you want with me?”
“I’m looking for your niece, Mandy.”
“So am I.”
“I know. You filed a report with social services in Baton Rouge.”
She frowned. “I don’t understand. I thought you were here looking for my niece.”
“Not exactly. Your niece has been living on the streets in New Orleans. She went missing a couple days ago. A friend of hers hired me to find her.”
Her eyes widened and she clutched the door, leaning against it. Shaye could tell it wasn’t out of emotion but out of physical exhaustion.
“Do you mind if I come inside and speak with you?” Shaye asked.
“Yes, please,” Cora said and opened the door wider to allow Shaye inside. “I need to sit.”
Cora closed the door behind them, then sat in a recliner and waved her hand at the couch. Shaye took a seat on the couch closest to the recliner. As she sat, she noticed that Cora’s chair was the kind that had an electric lift option to help one rise.
“Ms. LeDoux,” Shaye said, “I hope you don’t find this intrusive, but are you ill? I can come back another time when you’re feeling better.”
Cora waved a limp hand at Shaye. “Please call me Cora. Tomorrow might be better. Might not be. I had breast cancer. I’m in remission, but chemo took it right out of me. The doctors say it will take a bit to regain my strength.”
Shaye’s heart clenched a bit. She hadn’t had cancer, but she’d worked her way back from a broken body and broken spirit. It was a hard, painful journey. “I’m sorry the chemo was so rough on you, but I’m glad you’re in remission.”
Cora gave her a weak smile. “That makes two of us. You said Mandy was living on the streets here in New Orleans?”
“Yes. You didn’t know she was here?”
“No. I had seen an attorney about filing for custody but then I was diagnosed with breast cancer. The attorney said the courts wouldn’t award Mandy to someone in my condition, especially given that it was going to become worse before better. They would declare that Mandy was better off with a healthy parent than a sick aunt.”
A flash of anger crossed Cora’s face as she delivered the last sentence.
“I love my sister,” Cora continued, “but I hate what she’s become. The drugs, the men—what Gina exposed Mandy to is criminal.”
“Has she been using for long?”
“According to Mandy, it’s been about five years, but that’s the memory of a child talking. Gina could have been using before then and Mandy might not have recognized the signs yet.”
Shaye frowned. “You didn’t know?”
Cora shook her head. “We’re from North Carolina. After high school, Gina took off. I found her in California a few years later, and she had Mandy, who was a toddler at the time. She wasn’t setting the world on fire, but she was waiting tables at a restaurant in LA and had an apartment nearby. It was tiny but clean, and she seemed to be okay for a long time.”
“What changed?”
“One day, about eight years after I first located her, I called and her cell phone number wasn’t good anymore. I checked with the restaurant and the apartment manager and they both told me the same thing—that Gina had taken up with a bad crowd and had bugged out. No one came right out and said exactly what she was up to, but from their tone, I knew it was nothing good.”
“When did you find her again?”
“About a year and a half ago. I hired a private investigator. He tracked Gina for three years.”
“Three years? Wow. That’s a long time and a lot of billable hours.”
“My fiancé was killed in a car accident and had taken out a good life insurance policy for me. And I’m a programmer, so I make decent money. If it hadn’t been for Mandy, I wouldn’t have kept at it, but I couldn’t stop thinking about what might happen to her, you know?”
“My mother is a social worker here in New Orleans. I know better than most people.”
Cora nodded. “The investigator would locate her in one place only to find she’d left months before. It was almost as if she knew he was closing in on her. Hell, maybe she did know. Maybe some of the scumbags she was hanging out with warned her. Finally, he found her in
Baton Rouge, and I came down to pay her a visit.”
Cora’s eyes filled with tears. “It was even worse than I expected. Gina looked like a skeleton, skin over bones, with tracks running up and down her arms and legs. Mandy was basically raising herself but she was protective of her mother, even though I could tell she was scared.”
“Gina was the only thing she knew.”
“Exactly. She didn’t remember me and wouldn’t tell me much, but I saw enough to call social services. They took her out of the house for a while, but without Mandy, Gina’s benefits were cut in half, so she got clean long enough to get her back. I’d spent time with Mandy while she was in the home, and we were in a comfortable place with each other. When social services gave her back to Gina, I went back to North Carolina and hired the attorney.”
“And then you were diagnosed.” Shaye shook her head. “I can’t imagine how disappointing that was, after all the time you spent looking for Gina and Mandy only to have everything yanked away.”
“I didn’t like what the attorney told me but I knew he was right, so I made plans for the future. My doctor in North Carolina recommended a physician in New Orleans he considered a leader in the field of breast cancer. It wasn’t Baton Rouge, but it was closer, and I had a friend here that I could count on to help me when my health got too bad to go it alone. I figured as soon as I was healthy enough to start the battle, I’d fight for custody of Mandy.”
“Did Mandy have a way to contact you?”
“I gave her my cell phone number before I left Baton Rouge. They didn’t have a phone but Mandy promised to call me collect every day from a pay phone at the drugstore, but she never called. I got worried after a couple of days and I sent the investigator to Baton Rouge while I was packing to move here. It was just as I feared—Gina had taken off again. The investigator finally located her in a run-down motel, known for prostitution and drugs, but he saw no sign of Mandy. When he pressed, Gina just said she was gone.”
“And you filed the report with social services.”
“Yes.” Cora shook her head. “I can’t believe that Mandy was here in New Orleans. Why didn’t she call me? She knew I was trying to help her. I thought she trusted me.”
“Maybe she lost the phone number. If Gina made them move in a hurry, maybe it got misplaced. You didn’t know about the cancer before you left Baton Rouge, so Mandy had no way of knowing you’d moved. If she tried to locate you, it would have been in North Carolina.”
Cora sniffed and wiped tears from the corner of her eye. “I should have checked in sooner. Hell, I should have kidnapped her and left her with a friend back home.”
“Please don’t blame yourself. You were working with what you had in a system that doesn’t always do what’s best for the child.”
Cora nodded. “Thank you. So what can you tell me about my niece?”
Shaye shared everything she’d learned about Mandy with Cora. When she was finished, Cora shook her head.
“Jinx. That poor girl,” Cora said. “She chose a name that represented how she viewed herself. Life with her mother was so awful she chose to live on the streets, and now this. You don’t have any idea what could have happened?”
Shaye shook her head, dreading what she had to tell Cora next. “Unfortunately, Mandy isn’t the only street kid who’s missing.” She told Cora about Jackson’s investigation and the other missing kids that Hustle had told her about.
Cora’s eyes grew wider and she clutched the edges of her shirt, wrinkling the fabric. “I don’t understand,” she said when Shaye finished. “What’s going on?”
“Nothing good. That’s all I’m sure about.”
“And this detective you’re working with…he doesn’t have any ideas?”
“I’m sure he has plenty of them, just like me. What we don’t have is evidence. I want to be completely honest with you. We don’t have much to go on. Street kids live a very isolated existence for their own protection. It’s hard to pin down what happened when none of them know much about the others.”
“But this Hustle knew my niece?”
“I think Hustle likes your niece, as more than a friend. When she told him she thought someone was watching her, he tried to look out for her.”
Cora inclined her head and looked at Shaye. “Can I ask how Hustle came to hire you? And how he’s paying? I have money—”
Shaye put her hand up in protest. “Hustle helped me on a case. My client was being stalked. Hustle came in contact with the stalker and gave me information.”
“Did you catch the stalker?”
“Detective Lamotte killed the stalker to save my client.”
“Oh! Well, I hate to say it but that’s probably the best outcome for your client. No looking over her shoulder any longer.”
“The stalker actually turned out to be a serial killer, so it wasn’t just my client that benefited. Who knows how many people were saved.”
Cora sat up straight in her chair. “Wait. You’re talking about the Emma Frederick case. I saw it on the news. She was your client? Oh my God. I don’t know how you can speak so calmly about it. You must have nerves of steel.”
Shaye smiled. “Something like that.”
“Well, I’m glad that boy trusted you enough to ask for help, and I’m doubly glad that you and your detective friend are looking for my niece. The two of you saved that Frederick woman. It gives me hope that you can do the same for Mandy.”
“That’s the plan.”
Shaye struggled to keep her smile in place. More than anything, she wanted to find Jinx alive and get her to Cora, where she had a shot at a normal life. But every day that passed made her less optimistic. Statistics didn’t lie.
Jinx’s time was running out. If it hadn’t already.
* * *
Hustle looked back as he crossed the street. The streetlights were just starting to come on, but their sparse spacing didn’t produce much light on the empty road. He’d been at the docks since Shaye had dropped him off, talking to different skaters as they dropped in to skate. No one had seen Jinx, Scratch, or Spider, and everyone had seemed genuinely shocked to hear about Joker. No one mentioned Father Michael or felt as if they were being followed.
His right ankle throbbed a little, causing him to slightly favor it. He had skated like crap, which wasn’t surprising. His concentration was crap. Not a second passed that he didn’t think about Jinx and what might be happening to her. Every time his thoughts went that direction, he forced them to the back of his mind, not wanting to think about the really bad things. The really bad things were final. The only ending he was willing to accept was one where Jinx was alive and well, even if she ended up in foster care. Maybe it would be better for her than it was for him. Maybe she’d have a chance at a normal life.
If anyone deserved it, Jinx did.
As he crossed the street, the hair on the back of his neck lifted and his skin tingled. Someone was watching him. He was certain.
Whoever had grabbed Jinx had probably ambushed her on the way to her hiding place. No way were they getting him the same way. Instead of continuing straight, he turned left and picked up his pace. There were a couple of dive bars only two blocks away. If he could make it to where people were, he’d be safe, even if it meant sitting on the sidewalk outside the bars until he could think of a better option. Then he remembered the phone. Shaye would know what to do. He pulled out the cell phone and accessed the Favorites.
The man rushed out of the doorway of an abandoned building so fast that Hustle barely had time to react. He twisted toward the man and saw his raised hand. Hustle threw his arm up to defend himself, and the man’s hand crashed down onto the cell phone. Hustle swung his skateboard around, nailing the man in the side of the head. The man staggered backward just long enough to give Hustle an opportunity to escape. He dropped his board and propelled himself down the street as fast as he could go, his sore ankle long forgotten.
When he reached the bars, he looked back, but the street
was empty. He checked his phone and saw that the screen was broken but it was still on. Saying a silent prayer, he punched in Shaye’s number. His breath came out in a whoosh when the call went through.
“Hustle?” Shaye answered. “What’s up?”
His heart pounded in his temples so loud he could barely hear her. “Someone just attacked me,” he managed in between ragged breaths.
“Where are you?”
He gave her the cross streets.
“Are there people around?” she asked.
“Yeah. There’s a couple of bars here.”
“Don’t leave. Not even a step. Stand in the doorway if you can, just make sure you’re in view of multiple people. I’ll be there in ten minutes.”
The call disconnected and Hustle moved closer to the doorway, leaning against the wall just outside the opening. A group of people stood on the sidewalk outside the bar, smoking cigarettes. They glanced over at him but no one paid much mind to a street kid with a skateboard. They were common enough. Regulars at these bars were more concerned cops might be around to catch them with something more potent than Marlboros.
His pulse slowed a tiny bit and his ankle started to throb again. He reached down and rubbed it. It was already swelling. He cursed, and the smokers glanced over at him again. The last thing he needed was an injury slowing him down. He’d barely gotten away. Whoever the guy was, he was fast. If Hustle hadn’t been faster, God only knows what would have happened to him.
He felt tears well up in his eyes and he brushed them away, angry at himself for being weak. Jinx needed him to be strong. If Shaye could go through what she did and take on serial killers, then he didn’t have an excuse.
But now, more than ever before, he missed his mom.
Chapter Nine
Shaye floored her SUV, weaving through the traffic in Bywater like a madwoman, praying that no cops were around. If one came after her, she wasn’t stopping. Not until Hustle was safely within her sights. She could deal with the rest after the fact. Her grandfather had no shortage of attorneys on staff.
