The Reckoning (13 page)

Was Bobby Rhonaldo’s DNA in the system? That was the question.

He pulled his car into the alley behind the lab. Best he retrieve the leg before the tech ran tests. Cutting off that avenue of investigation would keep suspicion on Bobby.

His boss believed that with the girl gone, Vodoun would finally revert back to the unspoiled place it had once been. The killer didn’t pretend to understand his boss’s motivations, but he was ready to get back to normal. According to his boss, in a couple of weeks, everything would be perfect.

And perfect sounded quite nice.

* * *

H
OLT STOOD IN FRONT OF
the lab, next to the truck, and looked over at Alex. “I guess we should get back to Vodoun,” he said, feeling somewhat at a loss. They’d covered a lot of ground since that morning but seemed no closer to finding Erika than they were before. All he’d managed was more unanswered questions, except for locating Bobby Rhonaldo, and that was hardly the answer Holt had wanted.

Alex looked as miserable with the situation as he was, but he couldn’t help but admire her strength and focus when most people would have fallen apart. She probably had no idea how attractive that strength and loyalty made her, but Holt hadn’t missed a thing. The girl who’d impressed him so much with her focus and determination had become an admirable woman.

She stared down the street at nothing in particular, frowning. Finally, she said, “I should check on Sarah.”

Holt nodded, and they climbed into the truck. “Let’s get a bite to eat before we head back. It’s been a long morning.”

“I’m really not hungry at all.”

“Neither am I, but we both need to eat.”

Alex sighed, but didn’t argue. He was right and she knew it.

“There’s a deli a couple of blocks over. A cup of soup and a sandwich shouldn’t be too hard to manage.”

Alex nodded, so he started the truck and pulled away from the curb.

They needed to eat. That was the truth, but Holt knew the real reason he’d suggested sitting in a restaurant rather than taking the sandwiches to go was because he was stalling. For what, he had no idea. Maybe because given everything that had happened so far that day, he felt he needed more to go back to Vodoun with. But what, he had no idea.

He’d exhausted his line of questioning with Mathilde Tregre, and neither he nor Alex thought the woman was being untruthful, at least not to her own knowledge. It might take hours for the tech to find anything on the leg or a day or more to determine there was nothing to find. There was no use in waiting around New Orleans for that.

But something kept him from guiding his truck onto the service road and heading south.

They each ordered soup and a sandwich and took a seat at a vacant table in the far corner of the café, away from the other patrons. Alex took one sip of her soup, then dropped the spoon in her bowl.

“We’re cowards,” she said.

Holt stared at her.

“We’re sitting here eating lunch because neither one of us wants to go back to Vodoun and tell Sarah that Bobby’s dead and we still have no idea where Erika is.”

He frowned. That statement was a little too close to the truth for comfort, although he hadn’t admitted it to himself until now.

“I prefer to think of it as we’re taking time to decide on the best way to present this new information,” he said.

“By sitting silently in a deli?”

Holt sighed. “What do you want me to say? I know this looks bad. Really bad.”

He stared out the café window for a couple of seconds then looked back at Alex. “Do you think Sarah’s going to be that upset over Bobby? I mean, they
were
getting a divorce.”

“Bobby’s affair didn’t make Sarah stop loving him. She just couldn’t trust him any longer, and without trust, she felt there was no marriage. Time is the only thing that will erase her love for him, and it’s only been a couple of months.”

He took a bite of his sandwich and rolled that one around in his mind. He’d known Sarah would be upset about Bobby’s death, but he’d thought of it in relation to Erika. Not once had he considered that Sarah might still love Bobby, but he guessed it made sense. God knows, he’d seen his mother and Lorraine struggle with their cheating spouses—a father-and-son duo who seemed to delight in leaving unhappy women in their wakes.

His mother had cut her cheating spouse loose when his mistress came up pregnant within months of her own pregnancy with Holt, but they’d “reconciled” more times than he could remember, despite the fact that his father had gone on to father two sons with two different women. Lorraine, on the other hand, had chosen to stay married and spend the rest of her life punishing her husband for his many indiscretions. Likely, it had been a full-time job.

“So how do we tell her without sending her completely off the deep end?” Holt asked.

Alex shook her head. “I don’t know that it’s possible at this point. I’m thinking…”

“What? If you have any ideas, I’m all ears.”

“No, it’s wrong.” She stared down at her soup, a guilty expression on her face.

Holt immediately understood. “You don’t want to tell her yet.”

“It crossed my mind. I mean, what’s a day or two, right? Just a bit of time to see if we can find Erika. Finding Erika would make Bobby’s loss more tolerable.”

“So we don’t tell her. You and I are the only people who have to know what the tech found.”

“But it’s dishonest.”

“Not unless she asks and you lie.”

Alex frowned. “That’s a really fine line you’re walking there.”

“Life isn’t always black and white.”

Alex studied him with an expectant look, and he knew she wanted him to elaborate. To talk about the experiences he’d had that had led him to such a conclusion, especially as it was a complete departure from the boy who’d left for the Middle East. The boy who thought there was only black or white and no middle ground.

But Holt wasn’t about to talk about the things he’d seen. Wasn’t about to try and explain to such a civilized person the atrocities he’d seen. No one deserved to carry such things around with them, but he especially didn’t want anyone he cared about having those images in their head.

“So maybe we wait a couple of days,” he said finally. “It’s for her own good, right?”

“Yeah. Let’s just keep telling ourselves that.” She took a sip of her soup. “So what now? The doctors will keep Mathilde overnight, so that’s done for today. The lab will take a while, and even if they find anything, they can tell you by phone.”

Holt considered their limited options, none of which he liked.

“Should we go back to the island?” she asked. “To, you know…look for the rest…”

Holt blew out a breath. “I don’t know. The body was probably dumped in the bayou. Killers don’t usually like to leave evidence lying around.”

“So you think the alligator found it…Bobby…in the bayou somewhere and not on land?”

Holt nodded. “I’ll have to search the island, of course. I want everything by the book, but I’d be surprised if we found anything relevant.”

“And the barrette?”

“I just don’t know, and I’d like to have an educated guess before we talk to Sarah about all this.”

“I think—”

Holt’s cell phone sounded off, interrupting Alex. He glanced at the display and was surprised to see it was the lab.

“Holt Chamberlain,” he answered.

“Mr. Chamberlain, this is Officer Marceau with the New Orleans Police Department. There’s a situation at the laboratory you visited earlier today. Are you in a position to come here and help us make some sense of this?”

“What happened?”

“Someone broke in the back entry and assaulted the technician who was working on your case.”

Holt straightened in his seat. “Is he okay?”

“He got a good knock on the head, but he’s going to be all right. I’m afraid, though, that the assailant left with your evidence.”

“What?”

“I’ll explain everything when you arrive. Are you nearby, or have you returned to Vodoun?”

“No. I’m in a deli a couple of blocks away. I’ll be there in a minute.”

“What’s wrong?” Alex asked.

“We have to go,” Holt said and filled her in on what the police officer had told him.

“Oh, no!” Alex jumped up from the booth and hurried out of the deli after Holt.

He pulled away from the curb and glanced over at Alex, who was staring out the windshield, her expression a mixture of worry and confusion.

“But how did he know about the leg?” she asked, looking over at him.

Holt clenched the steering wheel. “He must have been following us,” Holt replied, knowing it was pointless to try and keep it from her.

Alex’s eyes widened. “Since when? The hospital? Vodoun? The island? Surely, you would have noticed a tail.”

Holt shook his head, frustrated with his failure. “I didn’t notice a tail from Vodoun and certainly not from the island. Gossip spreads fast, though. Someone in Vodoun could have tipped him off that we were transporting Mathilde to the hospital in New Orleans.”

“You think there’s more than one person involved?”

“Maybe. Or maybe someone passed on the information, not knowing the implications.”

“But no one from Vodoun would tell this to anyone that wasn’t aware of Mathilde and the island.”

“I know.”

She sucked in a breath. “It’s someone local, isn’t it? It always has been.”

“Probably.”

She turned to stare back out the window, and he knew her mind was reeling from the possibility that she knew the person who’d caused all this heartache for her family. What Holt wasn’t about to tell her was even worse—that he suspected the killer wasn’t working alone. That more than one person in the community might be working together to cause all this damage.

And that they may have been working in Vodoun long before now.

Chapter Eleven

Holt handed the police officer at the lab one of his cards. “Here’s my contact information.”

The officer took the card and nodded. “If we get anything, we’ll let you know.”

Holt strode down the sidewalk, trying to control his anger. The locks on the back door of the lab were a joke, and security cameras were non-existent. He knew funding for government agencies was minimal at best, but how in the world could they justify such a lack of security at a place testing police evidence?

And the unfortunate tech. He’d be feeling that blow to the head for weeks and be sporting a scar on his forehead the rest of his life, but the poor guy was more upset over the stolen evidence.

Holt was upset over the entire thing.

Alex walked quietly beside him, but she remained wisely silent.

He climbed inside the truck and banged his hand on the steering wheel. Never had he felt at such a loss. The entire thing was spiraling out of control, and he was further away from answers than he had been the day Erika disappeared.

“I don’t understand,” Alex said. “Why would someone take the leg?”

“Clearly he didn’t want us to identify the body.”

Alex sucked in a breath. “They wouldn’t have known about the serial number on the pin. They don’t know that we already know it’s Bobby.”

“The only silver lining in this entire mess.”

“So what do we do now?”

“We head back to Vodoun. There’s nothing left here for us to do.”

He started the truck, but as he was about to pull away from the curb, his cell phone rang again. This time, he didn’t recognize the telephone number.

“Mr. Chamberlain?” the man said when he answered.

“Yes.”

“This is Al Johnson. You came in my pawn shop about that guitar.”

“Yes, Mr. Johnson. Have you remembered something else?”

“Even better. I just saw that guy that sold me the guitar walk into a bar on St. Charles Street.”

Holt stiffened. “You’re sure?”

“Got a clear look at him before he went inside. The Lizard Lounge. Do you want me to do anything?”

“No. If he sees you, he may bolt. Just stay out of sight and call me if you see him leave the bar.”

“Got it.”

Holt threw his foot down on the accelerator and launched the truck onto the street. As he cut around traffic, he told a startled looking Alex about the phone call.

“Shouldn’t you call the police?” she asked.

“If he sees the cops coming, he’ll bail.”

“But what are you going to do?”

“Confront him, and then call the New Orleans cops. They can book him for me and I’ll transport him to Vodoun for holding.”

“Confront him? He killed Bobby. I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“Well, when you figure out how I can arrest him from a distance, let me know. But I have to tell you, that’s not going to be nearly as satisfying.”

“At least I’ll be there to back you up.”

Holt shook his head. “Absolutely not. You’re not going anywhere near that bar. You’re going to sit in the truck and wait for me to do my job.”

“You expect me to sit like some lady-in-waiting?”

“Yes, I do. Despite my allowing you to come along for some of this, you are not a cop and don’t have the training necessary to handle something like this. I expect you to respect my ability to do my job.”

Alex pursed her lips but didn’t argue. He knew he’d get her with the respect comment.

He pulled into an alley behind the bar and parked half a block down from the bar, next to a Dumpster.

“If anyone hassles you, move the truck one street over.” He handed her the keys. “Have your cell phone close by. I’ll let you know what’s happening.”

He exited the truck and skirted around the corner of the alley and onto St. Charles Street. The bar was in the center of the street. It was early evening, so it was crowded, but he figured that played in his favor. It was easier to blend in. If the killer knew who he was, he’d immediately know why he was there.

He edged along the wall of the tiny pub, scanning the patrons as he went, but none of them matched the guy from the pawn shop video. Maybe Al Johnson had been mistaken. He’d seen the guy from across the street. It was possible he’d made the wrong guy.

Suddenly, a crack of light fell across his face and he glanced to the back of the bar in time to see two men at the back entrance. The first man was pushing the door open with his right hand.