The Cain Casey Series

by Ali Vali

  Cain’s voice from the doorway broke through his anger-induced haze, and he cut his eyes her way.

  “I’d appreciate if you addressed me as Agent Curtis.”

  Releasing a deep breath slowly while trying to get over her anger, Cain centered herself. The quickest way to end up where she didn’t want to be—in trouble with the law—was to enter a meeting angry and out of control. In this case, having Katlin and Merrick hand her Michael’s and Francis’s rings that morning after having killed the two Bracato brothers the night before had left her in a foul mood. She expected her staff to be obedient.

  “And I’d appreciate being left alone, but you’re here bothering me, so we don’t always get what we want, do we? I have some business this morning, so why don’t you tell me why you’re here.”

  “I need you to answer some questions, and I’m not leaving until you do.”

  Muriel watched from the study, trying to figure out Curtis’s game. She’d been in her suite of rooms upstairs when Emma called her and told her to get down to the solarium as soon as possible. From the set of Cain’s jaw, she was afraid that the agent might get a response he wouldn’t like, so Muriel quickened her pace.

  “Do you habitually invade people’s homes and threaten them, Agent Curtis?” Muriel asked as she strode to the chair across from his, acting as if she owned the place. “Perhaps you haven’t had the opportunity to speak with Agent Hicks—your superior, I believe,” she added, just to put him off a bit more. “After the warehouse fiasco, we’ve agreed to play nice until everyone’s had a chance to recover. Should I get her on the phone?”

  “Agent Hicks will give me a raise when I show her what I gathered on your client last night. You didn’t think you’d get away with that shit, did you?” he asked, pointing at Cain. He almost laughed out loud when he saw the perpetually cocky Cain Casey visibly pale. “I love it when people screw up, and I have 8x10 glossies of the whole thing.”

  When, for the first time, Cain noticed the folder lying on the table next to the agent, she almost jumped from her chair and ripped it open to see just how much he’d caught on film.

  Muriel squeezed the arms of her wicker chair enough to make the material creak. Across from her she was seeing the same thing Curtis was looking at, a visibly rattled Cain, which was a first. “Cain, why don’t you head on up and keep Emma company. I’ll handle this.”

  “No, I want to hear what he has to say.” Her voice came out in a raspy whisper, and Cain stopped herself from continuing, not wanting to sound any weaker. “You want to do this here or somewhere where you can gloat for your friends, Anthony?”

  “I’m tempted to show Shelby and the others exactly what you’re made of, Casey, but here’s good for now. If you don’t tell me what I want to know, then we’ll have to make this a little more official.”

  Muriel knew that Cain’s face, devoid of emotion, hid the fact that a million thoughts were running through her head. Curtis was being cryptic on purpose, and the strategy was working.

  “You want me to become your informant?” Cain sounded incredulous.

  “You’re going to do it and be happy about it.”

  “I tell you what, Anthony. You show me what’s in the folder and we’ll see. If not, no deal.”

  Muriel wanted more than anything to tell Cain to shut the hell up. Daring FBI agents into gambling with your future was not a smart idea. “Cain—”

  Cain raised her hand as if she’d just released the dice in this dangerous game of craps.

  “What’s it going to be, Anthony?” Cain asked him, sounding more and more confident.

  “I tried helping you, but now I have to go to Agent Hicks and give her my report.” He stood and picked up the folder they were all staring at. Stopping at the door, Anthony glanced back. “You know something, Casey? When I started this job I vowed never to make it personal, and I’ve done a really good job. This time, though, it’s going to be a pleasure watching you go down. You think you’re so fucking smart, but you’re just like the rest of the scum we deal with—stupid as a sack of dried shit.”

  Muriel waited until she heard the front door close and they were alone. “How big a problem is this?”

  “Cousin, you should know by now that to everything there’s a time and place. Now isn’t the time or the place for this conversation.”

  “I can’t plan if I don’t know what I’m up against.”

  “I need some time to think, Muriel, so drop it.”

  Cain’s voice rose higher than she would have liked, but she wasn’t familiar with the feeling of panic. She’d been careful, or so she thought, but if Anthony had gotten film of what she’d done to Stephano, a jury would probably lock her away for life. He hadn’t taken her up on her offer, so now Cain just had to wait and see what Anthony did with his information.

  She abruptly stalked out of the room and, outside, jumped into the first car she found with the keys in it. Before anyone had a chance to respond, Cain was out the front gate headed downtown. It almost felt like fear was chasing her down the street.

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  Gino Bracato sat in the chair next to the bed and alternately looked out the window and stared at the still form on the bed, oblivious to the ringing phone and doorbell. His wrinkled clothes smelled of his mistress’s favorite perfume, but he didn’t care about his appearance. Instead, the unmoving chest of his wife Eris mesmerized him.

  He’d intended to ship her off to the first rehab center that would take her, but when he’d gotten home he’d found her already gone. No matter how hard he shook or slapped her, Eris hadn’t responded. The large pile of white powder on the nightstand close to where her head had landed explained everything. She had finally found a way to escape him and his family, and he couldn’t follow her.

  “Mr. Bracato?” the nanny asked. “Please, sir, I need to see you, if I could.”

  “What is it?” He opened the door just a sliver.

  “Your father has called so many times and would like to speak to you. He sounded upset. Would Mrs. Bracato like for me to bring the baby in? She likes spending time with him in the mornings.”

  “No! My wife’s sick and doesn’t want to be disturbed. Keep my son away from her, and tell the rest of the staff to stay out.”

  “Yes, sir. I’m sorry I had to bother you.”

  As soon as the nanny left, Giovanni yanked the master suite door open and shoved his way in.

  “When I fucking call you, I expect you to pick up the phone and talk to me,” he screamed. Stopping, he stared at the lump on the bed and sneered. “You know what your problem is? You’ve lost control of your house, boy. Your wife should know better than to lounge around after nine o’clock. It’s time for you to start teaching your wife who’s in charge here just like I have at home.”

  “She’s dead,” Gino whispered. He buried his face in his hands and tried his best not to cry in front of his father. Despite all their problems, he had loved Eris once and never dreamed their relationship would end like this.

  “Fucking shit,” Giovanni said. “What happened?”

  “Looks like she snorted enough blow to fry her brain. I was out last night and came in to find her like this. What am I going to do, Papa?”

  The slap to the side of Gino’s head almost knocked him off the chair.

  “First, you start sounding like the man I raised and not some weak pussy. All we have to do is get rid of her, then report her missing. They can’t find her here, Gino, or you’ll go down for this no matter how it happened.

  “Go get cleaned up, because there’s nothing we can do about this now in broad daylight. We have bigger problems, and I need your help.”

  “What’s wrong?” Gino stood up and walked away from his father, trying to put some distance between them.

  “Your brothers are all missing. I’ve been to all their houses and checked all the places they could be, but no one’s seen them. Stephano and Michael pull shit like this all the time, but Francis knows bette
r than to keep me waiting. We’re meeting with the Luis family this morning, and he was coming with me.” He shook Gino by the shoulders. “When was the last time you saw them?”

  Stephano’s late-night call for backup rushed back to Gino with such a vengeance, he slumped down on the end of the bed. If something had happened to his brother, his father would never forgive him for putting a woman before his family. “Yesterday afternoon when we were all together,” he lied. “I didn’t hear from them after that.”

  “Take a shower and get dressed,” Giovanni ordered. “And don’t forget to lock the door on the way out. We don’t need anyone wandering in here while we’re gone. Tonight after we find your brothers and get business squared away, we’ll deal with your little problem. At least most of the people who knew your wife knew what a junkie she was. Nobody’ll even miss her.”

  Except me, Gino thought, as he looked back at the woman he’d once loved.

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  “Think this is some trick to pull us away from something bigger?” Claire asked.

  “I’ve been wrong so much lately that I’m not even going to guess.” Shelby studied the people around Cain and didn’t spot a viable threat. Cain sat totally alone near the rail in Café du Monde, resembling any other tourist. “I’ve only seen Cain like this one other time—the first time she saw Emma after she got back to town.”

  “After seeing them last night, I’d say that they’ve solved their problems. You’re dying to go over there and talk to her, aren’t you?”

  “I may want to, but I’ve broken more than my share of procedures when it comes to Cain Casey. Eventually all that could catch up with me.”

  Claire shut off the camera they had trained on Cain drinking coffee. “Why don’t you take a break?” She pointed to the camera. “We seem to be having technical difficulties.”

  “Thanks, Claire.”

  The noise of the French Quarter increased when Shelby opened the door and climbed out of the van that sported a local plumbing company’s logo. Noticing Emma approach the café from the direction of downtown, headed for Cain’s table, Shelby stopped abruptly after stepping off the curb. Plans forgotten, she calmly returned to their air-conditioned haven, took the headphones from Claire, and waited for the conversation across the street to begin.

  “Want to talk about it?”

  Cain shook her head and ran her finger around the rim of the generic white mug. A plate full of the powdered beignets the place was famous for sat untouched next to the mug.

  “Just felt like a cup of coffee, huh?”

  “Something like that.” Cain finally picked up the cup again and took a sip. “This place is a tradition for me, and God knows more than one tradition has shaped my life.” She cut her eyes briefly to the van across the street and wondered who, in addition to Shelby, was listening in.

  “This place is mine alone, not like the club and the bar. I used to come here early some mornings after leaving the pub or after dropping you off to people-watch. Your apartment wasn’t far from here.” She pointed down the alley across the street. “Trying to figure out what was going on with them helped me sort out what was going on in here.” Cain tapped the side of her head.

  “I can go,” Emma said.

  Cain grasped Emma’s wrist. “Not yet. Are you here alone?”

  “Same as you, so no lectures, okay?”

  “Sometimes, lass, no matter how much you think we’re alike, we’re not. My being out here alone isn’t the same.”

  Emma jerked her arm away, and her upper body slammed into the back of the chair. “I thought we’d come to an understanding.”

  “What, that I’d give everyone in the world who’s pissed at me a free shot at you?”

  “No, that you would let me in.” Emma put her hands flat on the table. “That you’d treat me like I’m something more than an ornament for your arm for nights like last night.”

  Cain widened her eyes slightly, and Emma stopped talking.

  “I can’t talk about something I don’t know anything about. I can’t lead you into something I don’t know a way out of myself. Do you understand me?”

  “No.”

  “Then this is what we call putting your chips down. If you don’t understand, then you have to trust me to guide you until you do. Do you trust me that much?”

  “Yes,” Emma said without hesitation. “I don’t want to destroy the trust we’ve built up since I’ve been back, but I don’t want to be shut out of part of your life like I was before.”

  Before Cain made any more declarations, she pulled her phone out of her jacket pocket and dialed her uncle’s number, getting Lou. “Café Du Monde, and make it fast. Merrick’s package seems to have walked out the door without her. After the dressing-room incident I’d have thought she’d have been a little more vigilant.”

  “You promised,” Emma said in a dejected tone. “And I believed you.”

  Not wanting to draw any attention to them, Cain grasped the seat of Emma’s chair and pulled her closer. “I said a lot of things, but so did you.” The pain in Emma’s eyes was almost enough to shatter her resolve, but Cain kept going. “Now listen to me and believe me when I tell you this isn’t the time or the place to talk about this.”

  “But, Cain—”

  Cain took advantage of this opening line. “I’m tired of talking about this, Emma.” With another quick tug Cain yanked Emma’s chair across the sticky cement, bringing her wife even nearer. The rest of the talk was so low the microphone trained on them couldn’t pick up what they said.

  Shelby and Claire watched as Emma pushed away and stood up, then almost ran out of the café, dodging a few cars as she crossed the street and started down the alley next to Jackson Square. She made it almost to the end close to St. Louis Cathedral before Cain grasped her bicep firmly and whispered in Emma’s ear again, not letting her go when she tried to break free.

  “Our job is to observe, that’s all,” Claire warned when Shelby put her hand on the door.

  “Cain’s a lot bigger than she is, and it looks like Emma doesn’t want to be part of this talk anymore.” The sound of a slap echoed in the van, and a stunned Cain stood on the flagstone looking like her next victim would be Emma.

  They didn’t exchange any more words until a black sedan pulled to the intersection and Lou climbed out from the backseat. With one last glare for Cain, Emma started toward Lou and the car. She never looked back once she started walking, but neither did Cain when she set off in the opposite direction.

  “Joe, you got her in sight?” Claire asked as she started the van.

  “Our target’s entering the cathedral. Maybe she’s going to confess her sins and decide to lead a life on the straight and narrow?” Joe and Lionel watched from a park bench in Jackson Square, confident that the black iron fence and shrubbery would keep Cain from seeing them. “Stay put for now, and I’ll let you know where we’re headed next. Lionel and I are going inside.”

  “Just remember that she knows you.” Shelby’s voice popped into the conversation.

  “Don’t worry. We look like tourists today. She’ll never spot us.” He walked across the grassy area around St. Louis Cathedral that was usually full of artists, street performers, and tourists.

  To their surprise, Cain walked toward for one of the confessionals at the rear of the church. They knew she was Catholic; they just assumed she wasn’t a practicing Catholic. The light on the side Cain had entered lit up, signaling that she was now on her knees waiting for the priest.

  “Wouldn’t you love to be able to listen in on that conversation?” Lionel asked.

  “It wouldn’t be admissible in court, but for pure entertainment value, yeah, I would. Thing is, though, I’m not sure what to make of this.” Joe waved his hand around the vestibule. “We’ve been following her for so long, I thought I knew everything there is to know about her. But today something’s off, and I can’t pin it down. Being out alone, rare but not strange.” Joe held up a finger
as if counting off a list. “The fight and this, though, way off the radar as far as previous behavior goes.”

  A nun close to them put her finger to her lips and smiled, softening the reprimand.

  Inside the confessional a wooden door slid back, and a million memories flooded Cain’s mind as she looked at the man on the other side of the grate. Father Andrew Goodman had graduated from high school with Cain’s father, and despite the different paths the men had chosen, Andrew had remained a good friend.

  For years he’d joked that Dalton needed a friend with such high connections to keep him out of trouble. After burying Dalton, his wife, and two of their children, Andrew had stopped joking and started praying for Cain and her family.

  “Are there blessings left for the wicked, Father?”

  A small laugh escaped Andrew’s lips as he leaned farther in. “God doesn’t see us as wicked, my child. He loves you no matter how bad you think you’ve been.” He put his hand up to the barrier between them. “It’s good to see I still have some influence over you. Thanks for taking me up on my invitation.”

  “I thought I’d come in from the storm for a little while, and you’re always a good harbor.” Cain pressed her hand to his and felt the heat through the decorative wooden grate.

  “It’s raining outside?”

  “More like invaders at my gates ready to storm the manor.”

  “You’re early and I still have confessions to hear, so will you do me a favor? One that’ll make your mother happy.”

  “Sure.” Cain was amused.

  “Go out there and say five Hail Marys and five Our Fathers while you wait for me. If you can spare the time, I’d like to have morning tea with you.”

  “I’ll try anything to make my mother smile down on me from heaven,” Cain joked. “Of course if you hear a sudden boom in the next few minutes, you know I got struck by lightning.”

  The prayers came with no effort since Cain’s mother had repeated them from the time her children were learning to talk so they would have the starting point to talk to God that every good Catholic had. Cain didn’t think of them very often now, but she wasn’t completely faithless. A part of her wanted to believe in a heaven and a hell, even if that’s where she would one day find herself—as long as those who’d hurt her loved ones suffered along with her.