by Louise, Tia
“Well, hello, Molly,” Roland says in his usual play-formal way. “It’s great to see you, too. Isn’t the weather nice for Seattle?”
“Why are you here? You’re supposed to be in New Orleans with the baby.”
“Molly.” I go to her, reaching for her hand. “Mark brought Roland and Jillian to find us.”
“We weren’t lost,” she snaps, giving Roland a stern look. “He knew we were here.”
“I think Lara mis-phrased that,” Roland continues, teasing her annoyance. “I would’ve said Roland and Jillian were dragged along with Mark to find us… or does that make it more confusing?”
Turning to Mark, I put my hand on his forearm. “Would you take Jilly to our room so I can talk to Molly?”
The expression on his face is different from earlier—more open, loving. It seems I’m not the only one susceptible to our daughter’s healing powers.
“Sure.” He moves his arm so our hands unite. “I’ll put her down for a nap. Don’t be too long.”
I smile, and he leaves us for our room. For a moment, all I can do is watch him walking away, silhouetted in the light from the far window, broad shoulders, narrow waist, amazing ass in those tailored slacks, ripples of muscles holding our tiny infant so gently against his bare chest.
“You can pull your tongue in your mouth now,” Molly snarks. My eyes cut to hers, and she’s fuming.
“I’ll leave you two alone. Moulin Rouge is on.” Roland steps away from the door, and it closes behind him with a slam.
We walk the short distance to her room and go inside. It’s immaculately clean, with her clothes arranged by type and color in her suitcase. Her dresses are hung neatly in the closet, and her toiletries are aligned in rows with morning items on the left and evening on the right.
She whisper-shouts as soon as the door closes. “Why are they here?”
“I told you—”
“They’re going to ruin everything. It’s already tricky enough with you here, and now them?”
I don’t know what to say. “I didn’t ask them to come.”
“So tell them to go and take that baby with them!” She’s pacing the room, arms crossed, silver hair fanning around her.
“You mean my daughter?” I’ve done my best to be patient with her version of sibling rivalry, but I’ve sacrificed a lot for this girl.
She spins on her high heel and faces me. “We have a meeting in thirty minutes with Joshua. He has Candi, a runaway teen who works as one of Gavin’s hookers. She’s willing to talk to us.”
My brow lowers. “About what?”
“To prove to you he hasn’t changed. He only changed locations, but he’s doing the same thing here he always did there.”
Pressing my lips together, I sit on the edge of her bed, holding the robe closed at my chest. “It’s not exactly the same if she works for him willingly. It’s not legal, but if he’s her pimp, it mean he protects her.”
“Until Guy shows up!” Her eyes flash to mine, and I swallow the nerves tightening my throat. She hasn’t said that name in years. Where is this coming from?
“Guy is dead. I told you—”
“But you never saw his body. No one did, and then the theater conveniently burned to the ground.”
My eyes are fixed on my trembling fingers. Only two people know what really happened to Guy, and neither of us has ever spoken of it. It could be very bad. For both of us.
“He’s not going to show up again,” I say a little sterner, my insides tight.
“Doesn’t matter. I’ll be ready when he does.” She’s pacing again, her jaw clenched. “I’m searching for him, and I will find him.”
Standing fast, I tighten the belt on my robe. “What time are we meeting this Candi?”
“Half hour at the Redwood Bar.”
I glance at the clock on her bedside table, tension hot in my chest. “I’ll meet you in the lobby at four forty-five.”
I have to knock on my door, and when Mark opens it, my fears magically subside. He leans on one arm over my head, causing the muscles in his bare torso to flex so attractively. I don’t even enter the room, I lean against the doorjamb in front of him.
“Did I mention how happy I am you’re here?”
A sexy grin curls his lips. “Even if it spoils your plans?”
“I’ll tell you a secret,” I say, leaning closer. “We didn’t have a plan. We never really do.”
His face tightens. “Maybe you don’t have a plan, but after what happened to Esterhaus, I’m pretty sure Molly does.”
I know he’s right, and the happy feelings provoked by the sight of him begin to wilt. “Where’s Jilly?” I ask, passing him to enter the room.
The door closes quietly, and I glance back to see him easing it shut. Turning to the bed, I see my tiny baby sleeping peacefully, surrounded by large pillows. Everything about this has demolished any hope for me keeping him out.
Standing at the edge of the bed, I look down at her. He stands behind me again, placing his hands on the tops of my shoulders.
“She’s like this perfect, magical little thing,” I whisper watching her sleep, then my jaw clenches. “I’ll never let anything bad happen to her as long as I live.”
“You’re not alone this time.” He circles my waist with his arms, his chin on my shoulder. “If you think I’m ever letting the two of you out of my sight again, you’ve got another thing coming.”
It comforts me to hear him say the words. It’s something I never had before, something I always longed for. “Molly, on the other hand, is going to be more difficult to convince.”
Straightening, he turns me to face him. “What did she say?”
“We’re meeting this young guy, Joshua. He’s introducing us to a girl who supposedly works for Gavin.”
“Okay?” Confusion lines his brow.
“She’s a prostitute.” That changes his expression, and I step out of his arms, going to my closet. “Molly’s convinced Gavin is doing the same thing here he did in New Orleans, and she wants to expose him.”
“Good,” he says, sitting on the edge of the bed. “She can expose him, and I can have him arrested. We need fresh evidence. Everything in New Orleans is either burned or hearsay.”
Scooping up my underwear, I carry my jeans and a fresh blouse into the bathroom, calling softly. “I’m not sure arresting him is what Molly has in mind.”
He steps to the door, watching as I dress. The smile on his lips heats my insides, and I wish I didn’t have to leave.
“I want to go with you,” he says.
Slipping my shirt over my head, I touch his chest, rising on my toes to kiss his lips. “If it’s just Joshua and Candi, we’re okay to go alone.”
We exit the bathroom, and he goes to the dresser where the large, flatscreen television sits silent and dark. “Unblock my number.”
The tone in his voice stops me. It’s laced with remnant anger, and I almost wonder if we’ve gone all the way back to the beginning.
“Hand it to me,” I say. He stretches it out, and I take it with trembling fingers, touching the face quickly and finding his name. “I only did it because it hurt too much to see…”
My voice breaks off, and he holds my forearms. “Never do it again.”
Lifting my chin, my eyes are serious when they meet his. “I’ll never do it again.”
“Here,” he reaches out, and I hand him my phone again. “I’m going to turn on your tracker, connect your phone with mine so I know where you are. If anything feels wrong, text me, and I’ll be there. Jilly will be safe here with Roland.”
Nodding, I rise on my toes to kiss his lips once more. “I will.”
Taking my clutch, I go to the door and pause, looking back. He’s standing, watching me, with our baby sleeping peacefully on the bed.
It’s everything I want in the world, right here in this room.
7
I walk slowly, but I never walk backward.
Mark
The moment Lara steps out
the door, I turn on my phone, switching over to the app and watching the green dot as she leaves the building. I hate letting them go alone, but I don’t want her pushing me out again. I want her to know she can trust me to trust her.
So I have to let her do this.
I can’t follow her like the overprotective lover I am.
My stomach cramps, and I step to the bed where our little daughter sleeps. Her soft lashes lightly touch her rosy cheeks, and her brown hair bends in tiny curls around her ears.
I pick up my phone again and see the dot has moved deeper into Capitol Hill. Opening the messenger app, I text Roland.
Come watch Jilly while I get my shit out of your room.
When we checked in, he got me a key, but I wasn’t sure if Lara would welcome me or push me away. I was angry and defensive, and so desperate to see her. Our reunion went differently, much better than I expected.
A light tap on the door, and Roland holds up the card for his room when I open it. We trade places, and I head down to where he’s staying. My carry-on suitcase is in the corner, and I quickly type in the code for the safe.
Taking out my light brown holster, I sling it over my shoulder and fasten the small buckle across my chest before slipping the black .45 Glock pistol into its leather case under my arm at my ribcage.
It’s loaded, and even though I hope I don’t have to, I’m prepared to use it.
Back in the room, Roland is reclined on the bed with sleeping Jillian at his side. The television is on with the volume turned low, and a flashy musical fills the screen.
“Where did they go?” he asks, eyes fixed on the show.
“Meeting some kids who work with Gavin,” I say, taking out my laptop and pulling up the New Orleans Police Department’s website.
“What for? Research?”
“I’m not sure. Lara didn’t think it was anything to worry about, so I let her go alone.”
“That’s very big of you.” I glance up, and that skeptical grin is on his face again.
“Yeah, well, I’m trying not to give her reasons to lie to me. I don’t want her running again.”
“She ran because she wanted to protect you. You’re a cop.”
“That’s right. I am.” And if I have to I sit here and wait, I’m doing my own research.
I type in my badge ID and password, and once I’m connected, I type in the words Guy Hudson and the address for the old theater.
The record of the fire appears, but no photographs, which is strange. Another surprise, his cause of death is listed as blunt-force trauma to the head, not smoke inhalation or fire.
Not what I was expecting.
The report states a beam or some other structure must have fallen, delivering a fatal injury as the victim lay in bed. His body was only partially burned in the fire, due to its location in a suite of rooms below the stage.
Rooms I know well.
“There should be pictures,” I say to myself.
“What are you doing?” Roland watches me.
His hand is on Jillian’s chest, and she’s awake, waving a tiny fist in the air and kicking both feet. Her little legs make shushing sounds in the soft duvet.
“Checking the police report for Guy’s death. I found it, but you’re right, a lot of the information I’d expect to see is missing.”
Standing, I go to the bed where my baby girl is moving around. Kneeling at the side, I slide my finger along her tiny fist until she grasps it. She’s so strong. Her blue eyes meet mine, she smiles, and even with my mind troubled, I smile back as I hold her little hand.
“I told you Gavin called in a favor,” Roland says, lifting her off the bed. “She needs to be changed. What are you trying to find?”
“I don’t know… anything.” I filter through the reasons for a partial police report. “Looking at that, I’m convinced something’s being hidden or covered up. Maybe it wasn’t Guy’s body they found—”
“It was Guy’s body.” My natural suspicion is piqued by his quick reply.
“What makes you so sure?”
He shrugs, but I can tell he’s backpedaling. “I was there. I saw Gavin’s face. I saw the clothes on the body… He was in his secret salon. It was clearly Guy.”
Watching him go to the door, my brows furrow. He leaves the room carrying Jillian, and I sit thinking. Would Roland help with a cover up? Why? Who is he most loyal to…
I think I know.
I return to the police database and enter Roland Desjardin. Nothing comes up. I try again using the theater as his address. Again, nothing comes up.
My throat tightens, but I type Larissa Hale and the theater address.
Nothing comes up, and I sit back, exhaling with relief.
I’m going crazy sitting around here waiting for her to come back. Grabbing my phone again, I study the little dot. It’s still somewhere deep in Capitol Hill, but it’s moving now.
Pushing off my knees, I go to the room phone and order a pizza and two beers from room service. I text Roland, letting him know to come back for food then I stop at the room safe to secure my gun.
If I plan to dig deeper into the Guy Hudson case, I’ll have to wait until we return to New Orleans. In the meantime, I need to shower.
* * *
Lara
The Redwood is a dive bar clearly popular with the locals. Inside, it looks like an old hunting lodge with dark wood walls, floors, and exposed-beam ceilings. Matching wooden tables and chairs are scattered throughout, and red lights cast an amber glow throughout the interior.
The place is brightened a bit by white Christmas lights twined around the skinny columns lining the floor, and antlers from all sorts of animals—deer, moose, something I don’t even recognize—are hung between the neon beer signs. The faintest scent of ancient cigarette smoke still lingers from before the ban, and at the far end of the room, an enormous television flickers to life with the start of the black and white movie The Mummy. This place is truly a relic.
Joshua sits across the small table from me beside a girl with shoulder-length neon-rainbow hair. It’s too dark for me to tell if she’s wearing a wig or if it’s all hers.
“This is some place,” I say to no one in particular.
Josh is busy shelling peanuts and eating them. He’s wearing a tailored, vintage blazer over dark jeans, and a Guinness is in front of him. The rest of us are having soft drinks.
“It’s classic Cap Hill,” he says, grinning at me. His neon orange hair is covered with a gray beanie. “It closed for a little while, and protests were organized until it reopened.”
“Really?” I look around wondering why.
“So what do you want anyway?” The girl I assume is Candi shifts in her chair.
“Is Candi your real name?” Molly leans forward, studying her intently, almost like she’s looking for signs of herself in this person.
“No, I changed my name to Candi. That’s Candi with an I and a star on top.”
Molly immediately sits back roughly in her chair, seeming disgusted with that additional information. “Let me guess… No, you tell me, why Candi?” Her tone is sarcastic.
The girl flutters her eyes and spins a lock of hair. “Because I’m sweet like candy, but I don’t rot your teeth.”
“Real original,” Molly mutters under her breath.
Candi’s eyes flash and her tone turns harsh. “You’re real original. Silver hair went out three years ago. What’s your name, anyway?”
Molly’s eyes flicker to mine, and she grins. With that outburst, Candi might have redeemed herself.
“I’m Maggie and this is my sister Lucy.” She turns to Joshua. “She’ll do.”
“Do what?” Candi asks, and I look to the both of them wondering the same thing.
Joshua only continues eating peanuts, tilting his head toward my partner for the answer.
“Tell me about working for Brisbee,” Molly says. “You’ve been with him since you ran away from home?”
The girl pulls what lo
oks like a plastic cigarette from her pocket and puts it in her mouth.
“Uh, you can’t vape in here,” Joshua leans forward, looking over his shoulder. He almost seems uncomfortable with his role as narc.
“I’m just sucking on it,” she says then cuts her eyes to Molly. “I lived on the street for a few weeks, then I heard about this guy who could get me work. So yeah, I started working for him around the time I got here.”
Molly leans forward, lowering her voice. “Have you ever seen him with kids?”
Candi frowns. “What do you mean? He’s not a pedo if that’s what you’re asking.”
“No,” Molly clears her throat. “Does he… sell out any kids? Underage kids?”
“I don’t know.” Candi continues sucking on her fake cigarette. “I don’t know who all he works with.”
“Okay… Have you ever been made to work when you don’t want to?” Molly’s voice is urgent, pressing.
I’m troubled by how much she’s trying to force this issue. I want to argue with her and tell her she has no evidence Gavin, a.k.a. Brisbee, would do something like that outside of Guy’s control. We can let it go, end the quest…
But she’ll never accept that from me.
She needs to eliminate every person associated with what happened to her. I understand her drive, but it doesn’t make it any less grueling.
“No,” Candi says, and she looks over her shoulder. “Look, I’m sorry I’m not telling you what you want to hear, but Bris treats me right. Now I’ve got to go.”
She stands, and looks over at Josh. “Bye, Josh.”
“Wait!” Molly rises, opening her clutch. “Take this. It’s my number. I want you to call me or text me if anything like what I described happens. I’ll help you.”
The girl looks at the card a few moments not taking it. Joshua reaches out and takes the card from Molly then he stands. Candi heads for the door, but Joshua hesitates.
“I’ll talk to her.” His face is serious, and his eyes move to Molly’s. “I’m sorry if that’s what happened to you.”
She blinks away, her aversion to pity strong.
I reach out and touch his arm. “Thanks.”
