I’m sure he’s pissed, but I needed this. Now I’m ready to say good-bye. He’ll get over it. I needed to find the right place for her.
When she finished off loading the kayak and getting her gear inside, she called him.
“Where have you been, kiddo?”
“Out on the Basin. I found the spot for her, T. It’s perfect.”
“Good. Listen, how about I grab some wings and head over there? We need to get things settled for tomorrow.”
“Okay. I might be in the shower when you get here, but come on in,” she said.
“Right. Oh, hey, McNaulty was at your place this evening.”
Adi’s pulse sped up. She didn’t just leave. She’s still here. “She was? Did you talk to her?”
“Yeah. She was hoping to see you. Would you mind giving her a call? That story is going to mean a lot. We need to do whatever we can to make the Pot stand out.”
“Sure. I’ll call her now,” she said.
“Thanks,” he said.
As much as she wanted to hear her voice, she dreaded talking to Griffith. She didn’t know what to say. The last time they’d spoken was in a different world. She couldn’t even remember what she’d said. She knew she’d been rude, and they’d fought. So much had happened, though. How could she talk to her without going through the whole ordeal? The whole business seemed so trivial in comparison to the past few days.
But Adi had decided her life was about to change, and with Griffith going back to LA at some point, there wasn’t any point in keeping what they’d started going. I need to treat this like we’re just a reporter and her subject. It’s way too personal and deep. I made a mistake letting her into my life. I’ll just make it a professional call. The thought of pushing Griffith away, when she really wanted to pull her close, made her ache inside.
She steeled herself to any reaction Griffith might have and called.
“Adi, thank goodness. Are you okay? I’m so sorry about Bertie.”
“Ms. McNaulty. I understand you were looking for me tonight?”
“What? Okay…so we’re going back to formality?”
“Did you need something?”
“I need to know that you’re okay. I want to be here for you. I don’t even remember what we argued about, and it doesn’t even matter. I care about you. Are you okay?”
“I’m doing well. Did you need something for your story?”
“My story? Why does that matter? What’s going on, Adi?”
“There’s nothing going on. Thank you for your condolences. If I can’t be of further help, I have things to take care of.” Adi hated the sadness in Griffith’s voice, but she couldn’t back down. She had a road to take, and someone like Griffith, with all her worldliness, wasn’t on that road.
“You’re seriously just going to say good-bye? Did you hear me at all? I care about you. Damn it, let me in.”
“If that’s all, I’ll say good night.”
“Don’t. Talk to me, please.”
“Good night.”
“Merley…” Griffith whispered.
Adi felt her blood run cold as goose bumps prickled her skin. She dropped onto the couch, breathing rapidly.
“Did you hear me? Merley? Are you there?”
She felt severed, disembodied as the name she’d cast off rung in her head. Merley was dead. She was never coming back. The acrid smell of gun smoke ghosted through her nasal passage as the memory of her past crashed down on her. She could see the rain of red mist wash through the room just as it had that night so long ago. The sound of her phone hitting the floor barely registered. She jumped up and ran to her room. She stuffed random items of clothing into a bag she grabbed from the closet. Run. He’s found you. If she knows who you are, he knows. Run and don’t look back. Run, run, run…
She was out of the room moments later and racing for the porch. She reached her truck in seconds and fired the engine. When the squeal of her tires on the asphalt echoed through the night, she was gone. She wouldn’t stop until she was in New Orleans. She would start again, but not as she’d hoped. She’d have to scratch out a life all over, since she couldn’t go back to do the legal stuff, but she wouldn’t face that place again. She wouldn’t be there when he found out where she was living. She’d forget this life too, in time. Hopefully, no one would look too hard for her. Bertie, I wish you were here. I never should have talked to that reporter. I knew it. She let the tears fall as she said good-bye to her home, to Bertie, and T, in her rearview mirror.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
What did I do? Why’d I open my mouth? Surely she won’t miss Bertie’s service? Griffith looked around at the gathering of friends and family who had arrived to send Bertie on. It was a large group, showing how well loved she was. That Adi wasn’t there was noticeable, and she could see the questions circulating among the gathered. I’m so stupid. Where is she? The fact that she could have caused Adi enough panic that she’d miss Bertie’s service brought bile into the back of her throat and tears gathered in her eyes. She couldn’t breathe properly.
“Where is she? She was going to call you, last I heard. When I got to her house, the front door was wide open and her phone was lying on the floor. What happened?” T’Claude said, his arms crossed over his chest, his eyes narrowed accusingly.
“I…I said something stupid. I don’t know where she is. We were talking, and then she was gone. I don’t know what else to tell you.”
“What did you say that made her run?”
“I can’t tell you. It’s not something she wants anyone to know about. You’re going to have to wait until she surfaces and ask her.”
“You’re kidding me. You waltz in here, get all cozy, then scare the shit out of her and walk away scot-free? I don’t think so. You’re going to sure as hell help me find her. You hear what I’m saying? You’re going to turn that investigative journalist thing to our advantage and help Adi. You made a mess. You clean it up. Not like last time you made a mess.”
Griffith was stunned with the acid in his words.
“Yeah, I know who you are, lady. Don’t look so surprised. I can research too. You have some serious skills in hunting information, and we’re going to need that if we’re going to find her.”
“I’m happy to help. I want to find her too. I’m not backing away from this at all. I’m just not sure where to start. I’ve got to talk to her. I can’t tell you what I said, but I can tell you it was a mistake. I want her back just as much as you.” Griffith realized it was true. No matter what, she had to make things right.
“Like hell. But you’re going to help, no matter what. Let me get through this mess, then you and I are going to get to work.”
The service was lovely in spite of Adi being missing. Everyone danced and sang and sent Bertie off in a big way. Griffith pasted on a smile and was polite, but all she could think about was Adi, and where she might have gone. When they finished the fantastic buffet Jose and the new cook had prepared, people began to say their good-byes, and T’Claude found Griffith sitting at a back table.
“I know you’re angry with me, and you’ve every right to be. But believe me, the last thing I wanted was to cause Adi pain or make her run. I just wanted to get through to her. She wouldn’t talk to me. She’d shut me out. I had to say what I said so we could have a chance,” she said.
“What chance? What did you expect? You know her well enough by now to know that girl isn’t but barely held together on the outside. She’s deep. Real deep, on the inside, but she doesn’t handle stress at all. She’s like a chocolate dipped ice cream when you first take a bite. That shell just cracks and falls away. How could you do that to her? I thought you cared.”
“I do care. I care a great deal. When she wouldn’t let me in I panicked. I had to get her to react. To acknowledge that I existed in her life. I was scared, damn it.”
“Well, hallelujah. You were scared, so you destroyed her. Great plan, there. How’s that working out for ya?” He crossed his arms and
glared at her.
“Not so good. Damn it, T’Claude. Let’s stop this crap and find her. Can we do that, please? Can we not focus on what an ass I’ve been and instead focus on where she would go?”
He was a solid slab of anger, and Griffith wondered if he would budge. She knew his love for Adi would win in the end. He needed her as much as she needed him.
“Fine. For now. I’m not letting this go, though. Selfishness like that? It’s not caring about someone. But we’ll get back to that later.”
“Good. Where do you think she’s most likely to go? She didn’t take much with her.”
“No, she didn’t. Her phone, for one thing. She used to talk about New Orleans a lot when she was a teenager. I don’t think Bertie ever managed to get her over there, but she might have headed that way.”
“New Orleans. Good. I have some contacts there. They owe me some favors down at city hall. I’ll email one of them, and he can run her plates through the system and see if she shows up anywhere. Her truck will be pretty hard to miss too. Maybe he could run a check on her credit cards,” she said.
“That’s a good plan. I can call my buddies down there and get them to look out for that truck. Plus, if she’s looking to put her skills to use as a chef, I can pull some strings so we’ll hear about it.”
“You don’t think she’ll just come back? You know, after a few days?”
“No. She didn’t come back for the service, so there’s no way she’s planning to come back at all.”
“I’m so sorry to be the cause of this, T.”
He sighed. “I know you are. Mind me now, I’m not forgiving you, but I know you didn’t mean to chase her off. Let’s get going on this stuff so we can hear something soon.”
“Okay. You have my cell number. Please call me if you hear anything.”
“You do the same. We should head down to New Orleans ourselves. She isn’t going to just up and call us,” he said.
“You’re right. Let’s do it.”
“Good. I’ll tie up some loose strings here and we can head out later today. Let’s say, by six?”
“I’ll be ready.”
Griffith headed back to her room and called her New Orleans contact. She had covered a story on fiscal misconduct he had been involved in. She had found proof he had no part in the misappropriations and had basically saved his butt, so he was more than happy to help.
“Sure, no problem. If I find anything, it should be in the next few hours. I’ll send you a text.”
“Thanks. I appreciate it,” she said.
That complete, she packed an overnight bag and waited to hear from T’Claude. Sitting around was making her crazy. She felt trapped and helpless. The longer she waited, the higher the tension rose in her until she felt like she could scream. Why? Why did she open her stupid mouth? She knew the subject of Dulac made Adi jumpy. What had possessed her to throw out the name she had run from? T was right. It had been her selfish need to show Adi she knew who she really was to get her to let her in. Talk about backfiring.
Just when she thought she’d burst if nothing happened, her phone rang. She didn’t recognize the number, and with blind hope, she answered.
“Adi?”
“Excuse me? Is this Griffith McNaulty?”
Not Adi. The voice was familiar, but she couldn’t place it.
“Yes,” she said.
“This is J.B. Nerbass. I did some follow-up after our visit, Ms. McNaulty. I now understand you have quite a reputation as an investigative journalist. I had my people look into your recent movements and I see you’ve been all over South Louisiana.”
“How is this a concern of yours, Mr. Nerbass? I told you I was doing a story. It includes various people in various places.”
“It’s very much my concern. Just what kind of game are you playing?” he said.
“I’m not playing any kind of game. I don’t have time for this right now, so if you’ll excuse me?”
“I will not. You have a lot to answer for. My attorneys will be doing the talking for me if you’re too busy to hear me.”
“Mr. Nerbass, I assure you, I’m not playing any game. Right now I’m in the midst of a personal crisis. Please understand.”
“I understand one thing. You came to me about a very personal matter. You have caused me unbelievable pain, and I’m not the kind of man you want to make angry.”
“Is that right? And what kind of pain have you caused? I’m done with this conversation. Good-bye.” She disconnected the call and resisted the urge to throw her phone across the room. If ever there were a shit storm with her name on it, this was it. He knew where she’d been, and quite likely, who she’d been talking to.
Where was T? What was taking so long? She had to get to New Orleans and find Adi, before anyone else did.
*
The sound of the street drummers calmed Adi as she wandered through the French Quarter. It was so crowded with people she felt anonymity surround her like a cloak. This is good. No one would ever notice her here, much less be able to find her. The room she had taken at the Super 8 was clean, but not something that would work long-term. She needed to find a place to disappear.
There had been a guy at the place where she had breakfast who mentioned a job at Tujague’s. It wasn’t much, just a line cook position, but if she got the job, it would be a secure source of income with the potential for promotion. He had given her directions and the name of the person to speak with. Hopefully, this would pan out. She wouldn’t have any references to offer, so she couldn’t be sure. Pain knifed through her as she flashed on Bertie and T joking around in the kitchen at the Pot. So much loss. When will it stop hurting? She blocked it out, numbed herself to the memory. She would forget.
The man at Tujague’s was happy she had some experience as a cook. He accepted that she had drifted around New Iberia as a short order cook.
“Here, fill out this paperwork, and when you’re done, tap on my office door. I’ll walk you through our system and get you a T-shirt and cap. You can wear any pants for now. If you move up, you’ll have to get the full uniform,” he said.
“Yes, sir.”
“Just call me Jake. No sir-ing around here.”
“Okay, Jake,” she said.
He nodded as he slipped into his office. Adi filled in the forms, putting in the names of several restaurants near New Iberia. They might call, but she chose places that she knew had high turnover rates, or that had closed. When she tapped on the door, Jake tossed her a black T-shirt and cap.
“Be here tonight at six. You’ll start on a trial basis. If things work out, great. You have the Super 8 listed as your residence. Is that right?” he asked.
“For now. I just got into town and don’t have a permanent place yet.”
“I have a buddy who owns a building in Bayou St. John. The bottom floor is an ice cream joint, but he rents out the apartment above. It’s pretty nice. I think it’s available. Let me get you his number,” he said, searching his desk. “Here you go. His name is Steven. Tell him I gave you his number.”
“Thanks.”
“Forget it. See you tonight.”
Adi was a little shook up at how easy it was. She had a job and now a connection to an apartment. She was going to be okay. She grabbed a bite to eat at a café on Decatur. Everything was just so alive here. She liked the feeling the city gave her. It was so much more than New Iberia had been. More movement, more laughter and music, it just breathed life. She concentrated on that, and people watching, rather than think about Griffith’s betrayal and how she’d lost everything because of her.
I can be this place. This is who I am now.
She called about the apartment and got an appointment to see it that afternoon. The place was small, but had some great features. It was small enough to feel safe but big enough not to feel claustrophobic. She loved that it had a good-sized deck too. The neighborhood seemed safe, with a number of little shops with apartments above them. The rent wasn’t cheap, but s
he thought she’d be able to swing it. She might have to get a second job, but that would be good. Less time to think about what she’d left behind. She signed lease papers, month to month, and paid two months’ rent in advance. The lady who showed her the apartment ran the shop downstairs. She said Adi could move her things in between nine p.m. and ten a.m. Things. She’d have to get some of those. It wouldn’t do to move into an apartment with only a backpack. Briefly, she thought about Griffith and wondered what her place in LA looked like. The thought was quickly followed by the feeling of being wrapped in her arms. But then… The whispered name that sent her running, made her heart ache. Dangerous. Too damn dangerous.
When she returned to her room, she set her alarm for four thirty. That would give her plenty of time to shower and get back to the restaurant. She was desperate for a nap, and it wasn’t long before she was asleep.
J.B.’s arm wrapped around her waist. The smell of his aftershave was strong in her nose. He forced her hand around the grip of his pistol. The blue-black gun filled her vision, its cold surface cutting into her skin. What’s happening? She watched as his finger tightened around hers, causing the gun to explode with heat and smoke. Her ears felt like they were bleeding, but she couldn’t hear a sound. She looked up the length of the gun and saw the carnage the bullet had created. The body collapsing, red mist hanging in the air, and then the face, obscured by dark hair. Who was that? It should be Ransom, but it wasn’t. She watched as the body continued its fall in exaggerated slow motion. The head hit the floorboard and bounced up, hair slipping off the face. Her own face. Suddenly, she was looking out of dead eyes at herself, holding a smoking gun.
Adi sat up, covered in cold sweat. It wasn’t real. You didn’t kill yourself. It was Ransom. It was J.B. making you shoot Ransom. You’re safe. Sound slowly returned, the smell of blood and gun smoke finally fading. Her skin was cool and her head ached. She made her way to the bathroom and climbed into the shower in her undershirt and briefs. The water helped, but the dream lingered. She felt the tears building up before they fell. She gave in to her grief as she slid down the shower wall into a crumpled heap.
Bitter Root Page 21
