Quarter to Midnight (A New Orleans Novel Book 1)

Good boy,” Gabe soothed, stretching over the console to the back seat so that he could give Shoe a scritch behind his ears. They’d been sitting in their new rental car for two hours, waiting for April Frazier to come home. “You’re being such a good boy.”

Shoe really had been a good boy. He’d waited patiently while Molly had switched out the rental sedan for an SUV, paying with Burke’s “John Smith” credit card.

It wasn’t really in the name of a fake person named John Smith. It was a company Burke had set up specifically for situations such as this—allowing his PIs to rent vehicles, reserve hotel rooms, and buy food that couldn’t be traced to any of them or to the company as a whole.

The driver’s license she’d used, on the other hand… That was not as legit. She was listed as Jennifer Arnold, which were the first names of her grandparents.

Gabe wasn’t going to think about the legality of her fake ID right now, because he’d been relieved to switch vehicles. First, they couldn’t be tracked if his father’s killer had managed to slip a tracker into the previous car while they’d been waiting at the vet’s. Second, the sedan had been small for anyone approaching six feet tall, which he was. The SUV was much more comfortable, plus it had room for Shoe to stretch out in the back seat.

The dog seemed no worse for his near-death experience. He’d had a vacation at the vet’s, in fact. Everyone there loved Shoe.

Gabe hoped no one would use his relationship with the veterinarian to hurt anyone who worked there. Or any of the animals.

I couldn’t stand that.He wanted to warn everyone with whom he came into contact. Be careful. Don’t walk alone in the dark. Lock your doors. Watch for shadows in the night.

But he couldn’t. And he probably shouldn’t, because ninety-five percent of the people he talked to weren’t in any danger. He’d cause hysteria.

Except he hadn’t warned Dr. McLain or Dusty Woodruff. They’d helped him. They’d helped his father. And now they were dead, too.

“Stop,” Molly murmured.

He met her gaze with a frown. She sat behind the wheel, looking as crisp and calm as she usually did, despite the oppressive heat. The SUV’s air-conditioning simply couldn’t keep up and the Kevlar vest was like an oven all on its own.

“Stop what?” he asked.

“Stop feeling guilty about the pathologist and the mortician.”

“How did you know I was doing that?”

“You get this little line in your forehead when you’re upset.” She traced a fingertip between his crunched brows. “Right here. It was not your fault, Gabriel Hebert. So stop. Think instead about getting them justice.”

“What will that look like?” he asked, genuinely needing to know.

“Depends. Prison at best. A gruesome death at worst. Or flip the two, if you want. Best and worst are relative to the perpetrator.”

She knew what she was talking about, so he nodded. “I’ll try.”

She lightly squeezed his forearm. “That’s all we can do.”

He pointed to her phone when it buzzed. “Incoming.”

She snatched it up, unlocking the screen to read the text. “Antoine says that April Frazier is headed our way.”

“How can Antoine possibly know that?” he asked.

“He’s tracking her cell. He was able to find her number while we were waiting.”

“What? He can do that? Track people’s phones without their knowledge?”

Molly shrugged. “Antoine can do a lot of things. Most of the time I can’t understand even when he tries to explain. I just accept it. Like… I don’t know. Like the miracle that is bacon.”

Gabe shook his head. “Bacon is not a miracle. It comes from pigs.”

“Hush. I don’t want to know that.”

“You grew up on a farm!”

She looked guilty. “It was hard. Pigs are cute. But bacon is delicious. It’s a real moral dilemma.”

He smiled, which he suspected was her end goal, because she looked pleased with herself.

“He’s also tracked your aunt’s phone,” she added, scrolling through the messages from Antoine.

“Oh?” Gabe leaned over to see the screen. “Aunt Gigi’s in Fort Lauderdale?”

“She was sixteen days ago. That was the last time her phone was in use. It’s been turned off since then. I’m betting she’s on a cruise.”

“That makes sense. She takes a lot of cruises with her friends.” And that made him feel so much better. He relaxed, drawing, if not an easy breath, then an easier one, at least.

“I’ll ask Antoine to run checks on her credit cards. If she is on a cruise, she’d probably be using them for buying souvenirs in whatever ports they stop in.” She looked over her shoulder. “That’s April’s car. Cross your fingers, Gabe.”

“Fingers and toes.”

She took his hand and held fast. “We don’t mention Xavier, okay?”

He huffed, offended. “I didn’t! I didn’t even blink when Mrs. Royce asked about him.”

“And I was very impressed.” She brought his hand to her lips for a quick kiss before letting him go. “It’s showtime. Let me talk to her first. She’s alone, and I’m less intimidating.”

Antoine had outdone himself, getting them all the details of April Frazier’s life. She worked for an insurance broker, was married to a pharmacist, and had three children—Nadia, age thirteen, Josephina, age ten, and Hanna, age eight—and she’d apparently stopped at the grocery store on her way home from work.

The latter was Gabe’s own observation, as he could see the grocery bags in the back seat of her car as she pulled past them into her driveway. “Tell her I’ll carry her groceries,” he offered.

“You’re sweet.” Molly approached April’s car as the woman was getting out. “Hi,” she called. “My name is Molly Sutton. I was hoping I could talk to you for a moment.”

Gabe got out, shut the door, and leaned against it. He’d let her take the lead, but he would be her backup if things went south, as she would say.

“I’m not interested in whatever you’re selling,” April said with frosty politeness. She was about forty, tall, thin, and angular. Her medium brown hair was pulled into a ponytail and she wore yoga pants. “Please go away.” She started toward her house, her cell phone in hand. “I have 911 ready to dial, so leave.”

“I’m not selling anything. I’m a private investigator. I’d like to ask you about Nadia Hall.”

The woman stopped abruptly, then turned slowly, her mouth open in shock. “What?”

“I’m investigating a murder, and I think the victim was Nadia Hall.”

April lifted her hand to her mouth, her eyes filling with tears. “Oh my God. Oh my God.”

“You knew her?” Molly asked.

She lowered her hand and nodded. “Yes. She was my best friend in the world. I…” Her eyes narrowed. “How did you know about her, and how did you find me?”

“How I know about her is a long story. How I found you is a shorter one. Both you and Nadia still have Myspace accounts. I tracked hers to yours, then used Facebook and the white pages.”

April blinked. “Wow. That’s… Wow. I didn’t realize Myspace still existed.”

“Well, I’m grateful that it does.” Molly gestured toward Gabe. “This is Gabe Hebert. He’s my partner. His father was the police officer who found Nadia’s body.”

April leaned to one side, giving Gabe the once-over. She must have been satisfied, because she nodded at him. “Why isn’t your father investigating?”

“He did,” Gabe said. “But he died recently, and I’ve taken up his investigation.”

“You’re a cop, too?”

Gabe shook his head. “No, I’m a chef. I have a restaurant called Le Petit Choux in New Orleans. My photo is on the website if you want to check.”

“And I have my PI license,” Molly added. “Please, feel free to check us out.”

April studied her screen, then his face, repeating the motions with Molly’s license. “I remember you from the TV, Mr. Hebert. Would you like to come in? It’s hot out here.”

“If you’re comfortable inviting us in,” Molly said. “We’re not here to pressure you. We just want to understand what happened to Nadia.”

April nodded gravely. “Me too.”

“Um.” Gabe pointed to the SUV. “Shoe.”

Molly grimaced. “We have a dog, and we can’t leave him in the SUV unless I leave the engine running.”

“Somebody will steal your car,” April declared. “We like dogs. Is he friendly?”

“Very,” Gabe assured her. “I’ll keep him on a leash.”

“Then come in. I’m very interested in what you have to say.”

“What about your groceries?” Molly asked.

“Oh. Right.” April reached into her back seat and pulled out a small cooler bag. “This stuff needs the fridge. Everything else can stay out here until we’re finished.”

Gabe got Shoe from the SUV and, keeping a hold on his leash, followed Molly and April. Or he tried to. Shoe was distracted by the shrubs in the front yard. “We’ve been driving for a few hours,” he said apologetically as Shoe peed every three feet.

April chuckled. “I’ve had loads of dogs. I get it. No problem.”

Gabe finally got Shoe into the house, which was blissfully cool.

“Ah,” they all said in unison.

“This way.” April led them to the kitchen, which was very nice. “Please sit down. Can I get you something to drink?”

“Water would be great,” Molly said.

Gabe nodded. “Same. Thank you.” They waited as April put her groceries in the fridge and filled glasses of water for them and a bowl for Shoe. “He says thank you, too.”

April patted Shoe’s head, then joined them at the table. “So. Tell me your story.”

“Gabe’s dad died six weeks ago,” Molly began. “Full disclosure: we think he was killed because he was investigating Nadia’s death.”

April gasped. “Oh my God.”

“Has anyone come asking about Nadia?” Gabe asked.

April shook her head. “No. I yelled and screamed at the police after Katrina because Nadia had simply disappeared. But there were so many other things going on. So much death. They brushed her case aside. I was so frustrated. I kept asking and asking, but years passed, and I finally gave up. How did your father find her body?”

Gabe told her about his father’s rescue of the people in Chalmette. “He came back afterward, and her body was gone. He tried to investigate, but was discouraged by someone higher up. Like you said, so much was going on back then. It was chaos.”

“I remember,” April murmured. “Nadia was my roommate. Well, she was up until about six months before Katrina. We went to high school together, here in Biloxi. She was a foster kid. She spent more time at my parents’ house than she did any of the foster homes. We always dreamed of going to New Orleans when we grew up. So when we graduated high school, we did. We got this awful little apartment in the Quarter. It was tiny and moldy, but we could open the windows and hear the music. We loved it. We were waiting tables mostly. We’d both turned twenty-one the year before Katrina and could finally tend bar. Tips were good. Nadia’s tips were better.” Another sad smile. “She was stunning.”

“Do you have any photos?” Molly asked.

“I do. I’ll get them when we’re finished if you like.”

“That would be great.” Molly traced her finger through the condensation on the water glass. “What happened six months before Katrina?”

“She met someone.”

A shiver raced over Gabe’s skin. He wanted to ask who, but April was looking straight ahead, focused on nothing. Except her past.

“He was rich and, according to her, sexy as sin. I never met him, and I don’t know his name.”

Gabe had to breathe through his disappointment.

“If you’d known, you’d have had a place to start when she disappeared,” Molly said.

April nodded. “Exactly. She met him about seven months before Katrina. Within a month, he’d rented her a house.” Her smile turned bitter. “I wasn’t allowed to visit. She wasn’t even allowed to tell me the address. She slipped once and told me the basic neighborhood and I thought she’d have a heart attack. Begged me to forget she’d ever told me that much. He was older and very controlling. She didn’t even tell him about me at all. I tried to talk sense into her, but she’d cut me off. She said I didn’t understand, because I was still single.”

Molly winced. “Ouch.”

“I know. Finally, she threatened to stop seeing me at all. She’d quit her jobs and was his ‘personal assistant.’ She’d get his dry cleaning mostly, from what I could tell. I think he wanted her isolated and available. And secret. I figured he was married.”

“That makes sense,” Molly murmured. “Did he buy her things?”

“Oh yeah. Diamond necklaces, fancy clothes, designer shoes and handbags.” She frowned. “And a dog.”

“Madame Fluffy,” Molly said.

April looked startled. “Yes, that was the dog’s name. How did you know that?”

“We talked to one of her old neighbors.” Molly hesitated. “Did you know that Nadia was pregnant?”

April nodded slowly. “She was devastated and absolutely terrified to tell the guy. He’d made no promises. She was his side piece.” She sighed. “Nadia wanted the baby desperately, though. She was raised in foster care and had always wanted a husband and a child.”

“Someone to love her unconditionally,” Gabe said quietly.

“Exactly. I didn’t understand then. I just knew that I’d lost my best friend. I was angry.” April sighed again. “And hurt. And not mature enough to handle my emotions. I lashed out. Told her that she should demand he marry her or she’d walk away. That if she let him convince her to have an abortion, I’d never speak to her again. I don’t know if she did or not. Our last conversation was the morning before the storm. I never saw her again.”

“Oh, April,” Molly whispered. “I’m sorry.”

April blinked, sending tears down her cheeks. “Thank you. I’ve never forgiven myself for that fight.”

“Twenty-twenty hindsight,” Molly said with a sad smile of her own. “We all do things we regret. But I know it’s hard to get past traumatic events like that. No matter how old you are.”

April smiled through her tears. “That’s what my husband says.”

“Smart man.” Molly found a pack of tissues in her handbag and passed them to April. “Where were you when you had the fight?”

April dabbed at her eyes. “In a coffee shop in Bywater, near the river. Neither of us had a car and it was close to the bus stop. I begged her to come with me, told her that my father was telling me to come home, to get out of the city. That the hurricane was going to be bad.” She shrugged. “Biloxi got it bad, too, but at least I wasn’t alone. I was with my folks.”

“Nadia wouldn’t come with you?” Gabe said, already knowing the answer.

“Nope,” April said sadly. “She said her man would come and get her and take her someplace really nice to ride out the storm. She was going to tell him about the baby, though. And demand he do the right thing.” She exhaled. “Do you think he killed her?”

Gabe thought of Xavier’s story, how a man had strangled her. “Maybe. That’s what we’re hoping to find out.”

“Your dad got close?”

Gabe nodded. “I think he did. He’d been investigating off and on—on his own time—for years. Some years he had more time to give. Some years he didn’t. My mom had cancer and that was a hard time for all of us. Dad worked and took care of her. I’d get him to let me take over sometimes so that he could sleep, but he was stubborn. I don’t think he had much opportunity to investigate in those years.”

“I’m sorry,” April said softly. “What else do you know about Nadia?”

“Not much,” Molly admitted. “We just found out Nadia’s identity today. Did she have an ob-gyn?”

“Yes. I mean, I think so. I gave her the name of one.”

Gabe straightened, his heart starting to pound. “Do you remember it?”

“Is it important?”

Molly lifted a shoulder. “We don’t know. But we believe that Gabe’s dad was searching for him. At this point, we’re just trying to reconstruct his investigation.”

April frowned. “It’s been a lot of years. I got the name from one of the other bartenders whose girlfriend was pregnant. Give me a minute. It started with a B.” Her lips moved as she soundlessly tried different names. Then her eyes flew open. “Benson. I don’t remember his first name. He had a practice near Tulane. I hope that helps.”

“It’s a lot more than we had when we got here,” Molly said fervently. “Thank you.”

“Thank you. I’d given up hope of ever finding her. I think some part of me has always known she died. Her neighborhood was underwater. I thought she’d drowned. At least now I know what really happened. Or at least some of it.” She rose, waving Gabe to stay put when he started to rise with her. “I’m going to get my photo album. It’s just in the living room.”

Molly was already on her phone, texting Burke. Dr. Benson. OBGYN.

SUPERSTAR, was his reply. Then, On it.

Molly was stowing her phone when April returned with the photo album. She set it on the table and flipped pages until she found what she was looking for. “Here we are. We were maybe fifteen in this one.”

“Oh,” Molly murmured. “You two were so cute.”

The two teenagers stood arm in arm, smiling for the camera. They wore shorts and matching NSYNC T-shirts. April was easily identifiable—she hadn’t changed much over the years.

Nadia was stunning. Blond shiny hair that fell halfway down her back, big eyes, a classically beautiful face, and a figure that made her look twenty-one instead of fifteen.

“I was cute,” April said with a self-deprecating smile. “Nadia was gorgeous, even then. My mother was so worried about her virtue. Men would stare at her whenever we were out together. My mom would say, ‘Hey, she’s fifteen!’ and they’d scatter.” She chuckled sadly. “We were going to change the world.”

She flipped another few pages, then sighed. “This was the last photo I have. Mom took this one on the Mother’s Day before the storm. It was one of the few times Nadia got away from the man to spend time with my family. All my photos were destroyed in Katrina. My mom still had this one in her camera when the storm hit. She got it developed weeks later. By then… well, chaos was still everywhere and I had started begging the police to help me find her.” She removed the photo from its protective plastic sleeve. “Can I get it back?”

“Let me scan it to my phone,” Molly said. “This photo isn’t replaceable.”

“I should do that,” April mused as Molly opened her scanning app. “I keep telling myself to digitize the family photos. You know, in case Katrina ever happens again.”

Gabe frowned. “My father said he was going to do that. He even bought a scanner.” But it hadn’t been in the house when they’d searched on Monday night.

He looked at Molly to find that she was staring at him, probably thinking the same thing. She gave her head a little shake and refocused on scanning the photo. She handed it back to April, who replaced it into the photo album with care.

“I couldn’t even bury her,” April whispered, new tears streaking down her cheeks.

“I’m so sorry.” Molly touched April’s shoulder briefly, then sighed. “If you need anything, please call me.” She gave April her card. “And I hate to say this part, but it needs to be said. We were careful coming here. We changed vehicles and used either cash or credit cards that couldn’t be traced to us. But the people who killed Gabe’s dad are dangerous. If you see anything out of the ordinary, call 911. Please.”

April nodded unsteadily. “I understand. But I’m not sorry I talked to you. Nadia was like a sister to me, and I want whoever took her life to pay.”

“As do we,” Gabe said quietly.

“Because they killed your father, too.” April bowed her head for a moment. When she looked up, her eyes were determined. “You’ll keep me updated?”

“Absolutely,” Molly promised. “Please don’t mention this to anyone. For now.”

“Not even my husband?”

“Tell him,” Molly said, “so that he’s aware and can help you stay alert. But no media.”

April scoffed. “Not on your life. I’ll keep quiet.”

Molly smiled. “And we’ll keep in touch.”

Gabe was quiet as they walked to the SUV. He put Shoe in the back seat, then waited outside while Molly checked the SUV for tracking devices with her handheld scanner. He kept watch, making sure she was safe while she worked.

Finally, she looked up. “We’re clear. Let’s go.”

They buckled up and made it to the end of April’s street when Molly’s cell phone buzzed with an incoming call.

“It’s Burke,” Gabe said. His own phone buzzed with a text, also from Burke. “He says to answer because it’s urgent.”

Molly pulled over and hit accept. “What do you have?”

“Dr. Curtis Benson is dead,” Burke said tersely.

Molly’s mouth fell open. “How?”

“And when?” Gabe asked.

“His throat was slit, and he was disemboweled.” Burke made an angry sound. “His body was discovered by police the same night your dad was killed, Gabe.”

“Oh my God,” Gabe whispered.

Molly grabbed his hand and squeezed. “How was he discovered?” she asked. “By whom?”

“By the Lafourche Parish sheriff. They were responding to an anonymous 911 call.”

“Breathe, Gabe,” Molly murmured. “Please, breathe.”

Gabe forced himself to exhale the breath he’d been holding. “Dad either found him before they killed him, or they knew Dad was close.”

“That’s what I think,” Burke said grimly. “Come on back to New Orleans. Call me when you’re twenty minutes out. I’ll have a location for you to meet up with André.”

“Did you tell him everything?” Gabe asked, still uncertain about the cop.

“Everything but Xavier shooting his home intruder. André’s got a boat and will bring you to my cabin. We’ll all sit down and figure this out.”

“Okay.” Molly looked shaken. “We’ll hurry. Tell him that we have Shoe.”

“André knows about the dog. He’ll be ready for you all.”

Gabe had a sudden, terrible thought. Oh no. I forgot about Harry. “Wait,” he said sharply when Molly moved to end the call. “Burke, have you checked on Harry Peterson? The ME’s assistant who helped me?”

Burke cursed softly. “Not since yesterday evening. I’ll do that now. Drive safely.”

Molly ended the call and Gabe shuddered out another breath. “Motherfucker,” he choked.

“I know,” she murmured. “We’ll find them, Gabe. We won’t let them escape justice.”

“I know.”

She pulled back into traffic and pointed them toward home.

Tulane-Gravier, New Orleans, Louisiana

WEDNESDAY, JULY 27, 6:15 P.M.

“What do you mean, he’s gone?” Lamont thundered, then turned from his office window, lowering his voice to a hiss. “How the hell can he be gone?”

It was quiet in the building, most everyone having gone home for the day. He could hear the quiet roar of a vacuum, so the maintenance crew was around. He’d locked his outer door so that no one could surprise him, but he still didn’t want to be overheard shouting about anything.

“We’ve been watching the doors all day,” one of his new men said defensively. “He did not come out. I swear it.”

“Then how do you know he’s gone?” Lamont asked through clenched teeth.

“One of the guys that works there—we saw him leaving this morning. I think he’s their night guard. Anyway, he arrived an hour ago, then a half hour later walked a lady in a wheelchair to her van. Then, just now, he walked a Black guy with three computer bags to his car. We heard the night security guy ask the guy with the computers if Burke made it out okay. The computer guy said that he had, and that some guy named André helped. They smuggled him out in a delivery truck. The listening device you gave us to plant near their front door really works,” he added in an attempt to be upbeat.

Lamont leaned against the window and pinched the bridge of his nose. Jesus, Mary, and Joseph. It had all been for nothing. Broussard had suspected the whole time and had planned a way out. And that bastard André Holmes helped him. Motherfucking sonofabitch. “Okay. Take off for now but watch your phone. I may need you later.”

“You’re the boss.”

He ended the call and closed his eyes. Some boss. He could feel a headache coming on. Probably from clenching his teeth so hard. “Fucking hell.” He did not want to tell Jackass this news, but he didn’t really have a choice. He dialed and waited, his gut churning.

“Do you have Broussard?” Jackass asked.

“No. He was onto us. He hitched a ride out on a delivery truck, aided by André Holmes.”

“Fucking hell.”

Lamont rubbed his temple where he could feel his pulse pounding. “I know.”

“All right, let me think.”

Lamont started to make a nasty remark, then stopped himself. He had not performed well today and wasn’t going to give Jackass an opening to tell him so.

After a moment of silence, Jackass said, “Broussard’s going to be on the defensive now and we tipped our hand by having your girl show up on his doorstep.”

“So it would seem.”

“Don’t take that uppity tone with me, Monty,” Jackass snapped. “This is serious. If they trace any of this activity to us, we are fucked.”

“I know that,” Lamont snapped back. “Don’t you think I know that?” He drew a breath and let it out. Turned to the window and stared down at the people drifting by in hordes. “I’m sorry. I have a headache from hell, and I’m frustrated.”

“Sorry, too,” Jackass muttered. “We can’t be fuckin’ with each other. That’s how they’ll get us.”

Oh, right,Lamont thought snidely. Like you weren’t planning to serve me up on a damn platter with Xavier Morrow as an eyewitness. “You’re right,” he said calmly. “What do you think we should do?”

“I think we need to start going after Broussard’s people. He’s got relationships with all of them. They’re all friends.”

“And this accomplishes what exactly?”

“We grab his people, he’ll either come after them or he’ll trade the kid.”

“I don’t think he’ll trade the kid.” Broussard was far too honorable for that. Dammit.

“Then we lure him out and make sure he doesn’t get in a goddamn delivery truck again. We actually follow him home. Or wherever the fuck he’s holed up.”

“Fine. Where do we start?”

“With the lady PI. That way we get Rocky’s boy at the same time. We kill Hebert and use the woman to draw Broussard. Broussard and the woman served together. They’re real tight. He’ll come after her.”

“What if he doesn’t go back to Morrow? What if he has Morrow stashed in a safe house miles away?”

“Then we cross that bridge when we have Broussard in our hands.”

“Okay.” Lamont wasn’t going to argue. He didn’t have the energy for that right now. “Where are the lady PI and Hebert?”

“Probably still at the office. Her truck is still parked outside.”

“As it has been since long before dawn,” he said, feeling a spurt of satisfaction at Jackass’s surprised grunt.

“Well, fuck.”

“I thought you had eyes on the woman?” Lamont asked, controlling the urge to taunt.

“I did. She must have slipped out.”

“Some good we’ve done hiring men to watch them, then,” Lamont said mildly. “How do we draw her out?”

“That’s easy. She’s got a sister. And a niece. Right now, one of Broussard’s men is guarding them. If we send in enough firepower and walk away with Margaret Sutton’s family? Even if we don’t get her with her family, she’ll come to us to get them back. If she won’t tell us where the Morrow kid is hiding, we lure Broussard. Sound good?”

It actually didn’t sound horrible. “As long as you kill Gabe Hebert right away. I don’t want him getting away.”

A gasp caught his attention, and he turned in time to see someone darting out the door. Shit.

“Will do,” Jackass was saying. “Later.”

Motherfucking shit. Ending the call, Lamont raced to his outer office.

In time to see Ashley grabbing for the door to the central hall.

Of course she’d heard. Of course she was trying to get away. Of course she’d tell.

“I’m sorry.” She whimpered when he grabbed her arm. “I just wanted to thank you in person for the bag.”

She’d used her key. The one that he’d neglected to take from her. Dammit.

“I’ll just go. I’m sorry.” She tried to yank free of his hold. “Lamont, you’re hurting me.”

He’d have to do worse than that, he thought as he dragged her back into his office, clamping his hand over her mouth when she drew a deep breath to scream.

Fucking hell.This day just kept getting better. Holding her against him, he covered her nose and mouth, waiting until she stopped thrashing. Her new handbag slid off her shoulder to the floor with a muted thump. When she went limp, he held her for another minute. Then he eased her quietly to the floor and pressed his fingers to her throat, nodding when he felt no pulse.

That had been easier than he’d remembered. Like riding a bike.

Now, how was he going to get her out of the building? He sank into the visitor chair, the adrenaline rush quickly fading, leaving him shaking.

Okay, maybe not quite so much like riding a bike. He’d never killed someone in his place of business before. Dammit to hell.

But he had sneaked bodies out of places before. He did have a private washroom. The washroom did have a shower. And they only x-rayed them on their way in, not their way out.

He needed a sharp knife. Or maybe a cleaver.

He bet Gabe Hebert had a cleaver. A really fancy one.

The thought sent hysterical laughter bubbling from his gut, but he tamped it down. Don’t be weird. Don’t act different.

He’d go out, avoid James, who waited downstairs with the town car, and find a place where he could buy a cleaver. With cash. Then he’d come back and make Ashley much smaller.

It would be all right. He’d done this before.

He knew exactly where to dump her body. The gators would finish her off, just like they had Nadia. Nobody would ever find her.

It would be all right.