Quarter to Midnight (A New Orleans Novel Book 1)

Xavier wanted to scream. Everyone looked so normal. Was acting so normal. Carlos and Manny still played video games. Willa Mae still knitted. His mother was reading a book. Burke was reclining in his chair, eyes closed, his hands folded over his belly. The two guards outside were doing their rounds.

Just like normal.

Except that nothing was normal. Nothing was even remotely approaching normal.

Xavier was the only one moving. Pacing. Nervous. Terrified.

The doctor was dead, too. The one that Rocky had been searching for. Why? Why would they kill him? What had the doctor known? What had Nadia Hall told him?

Xavier had turned it over and over in his mind and the only thing that made sense of the doctor’s murder, the only relevant connection, was the identity of the father of Nadia’s unborn child.

There didn’t seem to be any other reason to eliminate him.

Eliminate.It was such a sterile word. The doctor hadn’t been merely eliminated.

His throat had been slit. His gut slashed open.

He’d been disemboweled.

Xavier couldn’t get the image out of his mind. Why would someone do that?

And what do they plan to do to me? And my mom? And Carlos and the others?

And when would Molly and Gabe get here? Every moment that ticked by was another moment that they were out there, ripe to get grabbed. Killed. Mutilated.

Abruptly Willa Mae put her knitting aside and rose, went to the kitchen, and returned with a chair. Xavier was distracted enough to stop pacing.

“Miss Willa Mae?” he asked. “What are you doing?”

“Giving you something to do,” she snapped. “You’re driving us all crazy, but we feel too bad for you to tell you so.”

His mother put down the book she’d been reading.

Or not been reading. Now that he really looked at the book, he realized that she hadn’t turned many pages.

“Is that true, Mama?”

“Of course it is,” she said with more kindness than he probably deserved.

Carlos paused the video game and turned, interest on his face. “What’re you gonna have him do with that chair? Tame some lions?”

Manny snorted. “Or gators.”

Burke had opened his eyes, watching them all. “Or maybe it’s a prop. Like for a dance sequence.”

Willa Mae shook her head, a fond smile on her lips. “I wish. Xavier can’t dance.”

“I can too.”

“No, you really can’t,” Carlos said helpfully.

Xavier flipped him the bird.

Carlos just grinned. But when Xavier really looked, he saw that it wasn’t a real grin. There was tension in his best friend’s face.

They were all nervous. It’s not just me.

It’s just me that’s acting like a fool about it.

His shoulders slumped. “What do you want me to do, ma’am?”

Willa Mae took one of those… things of yarn from her bag. It was twisted, looking like a fancy loaf of bread. She shook it, revealing it to be a big circle of yarn. Which she then draped over the chair’s back, then held out one end to Xavier. “Wind it into a ball.”

Xavier stared. “Wind it into a ball? Why?”

She nodded. “Because it’s soothing.”

Xavier looked around the room. His mother was hiding a smile behind her hand. Carlos, Manny, and Burke weren’t even trying to hide theirs.

“Soothing for who?” Xavier demanded.

“Whom,” Willa Mae corrected. “And soothing for us. You can worry all you like, but take out your energy on the yarn. If you keep pacing, you’ll need to buy Burke a new rug because you’ll have worn a hole in the one he has now.”

Sighing, Xavier took the yarn and began to wind. And, like the tai chi, it was surprisingly soothing.

Willa Mae sat back down and resumed her knitting.

And the clock ticked.

“It’s a hard thing to strike from your mind,” Willa Mae murmured. “The image of that poor doctor.” She sounded like she spoke from experience.

“You’ve seen murders like that?” Xavier asked.

“Pictures,” she confirmed. “More than I want to recall. Especially when I was a prosecutor. Burke probably saw them in the war and with the NOPD. Your mama sees them, too, in the ER. The victims that are still breathin’, anyway.”

He glanced at his mother, making sure he continued to wind the yarn. It was blue like the sky, and that was soothing, too. “You do?”

Cicely nodded. “Stabbings, shootings, and beatings. I have to compartmentalize away the horror so that I can save their lives. You’ll have to do that, too, when you become a doctor.”

He’d known that but had never really stopped to contemplate it. “Oh. Wow.”

“I won’t,” Carlos said with a shudder. “I’ll just see wires and conductors and shit.” He winced. “Sorry, Mrs. M, Miss Willa Mae.”

“Burke?” Xavier hesitated to ask, but he was curious about the man. “Did you see wounds like that in the war?”

“I did,” he confirmed, then closed his eyes again.

All right, then. Conversation over. They went back to their activities, the tension in the room no longer as high as it had been. It was still tense, but Xavier could breathe once more.

The silence was broken by the barking of a dog.

Burke abruptly closed the recliner and leapt to his feet, startling Xavier’s mother into a gasp. “Sorry, Cicely. They’re here. That’s Rocky’s dog.” He faltered, grief flickering over his face. “I mean Gabe’s dog.” With a sigh, he stalked to the front door and slipped out.

Xavier kept winding the yarn because he didn’t want to look at any of the others’ faces at the moment. Not until he could clear the tears from his own eyes. There were some times that he also forgot that Rocky was dead, only to remember. It had been like that for the longest time when his father had passed. His birth mother, too.

Grief sucked.

The door opened and a brown-and-white dog bounded in, wagging its tail like there was no tomorrow. It was medium-sized and might have been a Lab with a bunch of other breeds thrown in. He ran straight for Xavier, tongue lolling.

Xavier’s chest constricted. He recognized the dog. Rocky had brought him when he’d visited them in Houston. He dropped to one knee. “Come here, Shoe. There’s a good boy.” He buried his face in the dog’s neck, letting his tears seep into his fur. Then let Shoe go when the dog started wiggling eagerly. “Go on. Say hey to everybody. Everybody, this is Shoe.”

Everyone in the room smiled as the dog made the rounds, getting pets from them all. Shoe had settled into Burke’s old recliner when the door opened again and Burke appeared, holding three grocery sacks in each hand. Behind him were Gabe and Molly, also carrying groceries. Antoine was next, but he had computer bags hanging off of him. André brought up the rear.

The cop held a semiautomatic rifle. Because someone was trying to kill them.

And just that fast, Xavier felt the respite the dog had offered simply fizzle away and realized that he’d pressed a hand to his chest. Trying to hold on to the happiness a moment longer? He wasn’t sure.

Carlos and Manny went to help with the groceries while Xavier held back, watching the cop with the rifle. André took a last look outside, then secured the door. Including the dead bolts.

“What happened?” Xavier demanded.

“Let’s wait for the others so everyone hears everything at the same time,” André replied.

A few minutes later, the groceries had been put away, and the newcomers crowded into the living room. Gabe and Molly joined Cicely on the sofa, and Burke ousted Shoe from his chair, then picked the dog up and settled him on his lap like he was a toy poodle.

Everyone else sat on the floor, Antoine busily unpacking his laptops. He had three.

Xavier wanted to ask why he had three laptops, but he suddenly didn’t have the energy to care. “What happened?” he asked again.

Gabe looked positively gray. Molly just looked exhausted and Burke looked a lot grimmer than he had before he’d met Gabe and the others outside. So, somebody had shared something already.

Molly sighed. “André and Antoine’s brother—DeShawn is his name—is doing his residency at the ME’s office. We asked him to keep an eye on the ME’s assistant who told Gabe that the ME hadn’t done the autopsy correctly.”

“Prompting Gabe to get a private autopsy,” Xavier said, dread mounting because he sensed what was coming. “Is the assistant dead?”

“No,” Gabe said, guilt plain on his face, “but he’s in the hospital, in critical condition.”

“He took a beating,” André said. “A bad one. They were waiting for him when he got home from work. They left him for dead, but my little brother DeShawn had also gotten a visit from the cops that day at work. They were asking questions about Gabe and his dad. Did he know Gabe? Had he talked to Gabe?” He waved his hand in a yada-yada gesture. “He told the truth. He didn’t and he hadn’t. Then they asked him if he knew Burke. He lied about that and they left him alone. D went to Harry’s office—that’s the assistant—but he couldn’t find him to warn him, so he called him. No answer. He went to his house and found him.” His mouth tightened in anger. “Behind his house amid the garbage cans.”

A chill went down Xavier’s spine. “That was a message.”

André nodded once. “It certainly was. DeShawn called 911 and bandaged some of the wounds on Harry’s arms and legs. There was a ball bat nearby with bloodstains. They’d used that on his head. They’d stabbed his extremities.”

“Oh my Lord,” Cicely murmured. “That poor man.”

Willa Mae had stopped knitting altogether, her hands trembling. “I’m glad your brother found him in time.”

“I called Harry,” Burke said. “Warned him. I don’t know why he went home alone.”

“We’re investigating that,” André said. “DeShawn said that Harry was supposed to wait so that they could leave together, but something happened that had him racing home alone.”

“Where is your brother now?” Cicely asked.

“At home with our parents,” André said. “He can take care of himself, so I’m not worried about him. He’s worried about our folks, though, so he’ll stick close by them as long as he can.”

Xavier bowed his head, all of his earlier frantic energy gone. “What are we gonna do?”

“You’re going to stay right here,” Burke snapped.

Xavier glared at him, welcoming the irritation he felt at the words. Irritation was better than helplessness and fear. “I get that. What are you going to do? We can’t stay here forever and too many people have died already. So, Mr. Broussard, what are you going to do?”

“Sorry.” Burke exhaled wearily. “We’re here to figure that out.”

“We’d hoped that Nadia Hall’s doctor could give us the name of her lover,” Molly said. “You know, work from the past to the present. Now we need to track back, present to the past.”

“I’m going to talk to Cresswell again,” Gabe said, glaring at Molly.

“No, you’re not.” Molly glared right back. “That’ll be a big fat trap and you know it.”

André held up a hand. “For what it’s worth, I agree with Gabe, but not just yet. We need to know what to say to the man.”

“Who’s Cresswell?” Carlos asked.

“My dad’s old boss,” Gabe said. “He’s the one who told me that they’d found cocaine in Dad’s pantry and that they ‘didn’t want to ruin Dad’s reputation’ by making that public, but they would if I kept pushing.”

“Sonofabitch,” Xavier muttered.

“Sonofabitch,” his mother echoed, then sighed. “What do you hope to gain, Gabe? I’m not being judgmental. I really need to understand.”

“He knows something,” Gabe said, his face pale and strained. “The day I went to see him, to ask why they weren’t investigating, he was smug and cocky. I wanted to hit him. I still do.”

Shoe jumped off Burke’s lap and climbed into Gabe’s, whining softly. Gabe stroked him and the dog quieted. “He knew that coke wasn’t my dad’s. He knew someone planted it there. He has to know who.”

“Put a pin in that for a little while,” Burke urged. “Let’s get our ducks in a row, first. What we do know, what we don’t know, what we need to specifically find out. Molly, will you take us through it?”

Bayou Gauche, Louisiana

WEDNESDAY, JULY 27, 10:30 P.M.

Molly held up her hand, counting on her fingers all the things they knew so far. “We know that the original victim was Nadia Hall. She had a lover. She was pregnant. He was likely married. She was supposed to see him the night of the flood. Xavier saw a man strangle her. She had a doctor—Dr. Curtis Benson—who is now dead.”

“I found the police report on the doctor,” Antoine said, typing something on one of his laptops. The other two he’d set up nearby and they were doing something. The screens kept changing, with streams of letters and numbers. Carlos was going to get a crick in his neck the way he was leaning over to check them out.

“Dr. Benson had been dead about a day when his body was discovered after an anonymous 911 call, placed a few hours before Rocky’s death.” Antoine paused, glancing at Xavier. “The anonymous call came from a burner—904-555-4930.”

Xavier sucked in a breath. “That’s Rocky’s number—the one he used to call my burner.”

“I know,” Antoine said. “So we can only assume that Rocky found Dr. Benson’s body and called it in. The police report lists Benson’s visible injuries and says that no usable fingerprints were discovered at the scene. His phone was missing, as was his laptop. He was retired, so he no longer saw patients or had a practice, but whatever files he’d kept in his house appeared to have been stolen as well.” He glanced at Burke. “The sheriff’s team took samples of the blood on the floor and some vomit found in the rosebush outside. They detected bleach on the rosebush, which would have rendered the DNA unusable.”

“The empty jug we found in the back of Rocky’s truck,” Burke murmured. “He found the body and threw up but didn’t want to leave any physical evidence behind. Can you get into the doctor’s cell phone records?”

“I can and I did,” Antoine said. “Rocky’s burner number first appears nearly a month before they died. The doctor texted him as well, but to get the content of the texts, I’d need his actual phone. Most carriers don’t keep the content for very long, if at all. Rocky’s last call to the doctor’s phone was the day of his death.”

“How did Rocky find the doctor’s name?” Molly asked. “He never contacted Nadia’s friend.”

There was a beat of silence. “That,” André said, “is a damn good question. Antoine? Did you find anything more on his hard drive?”

Antoine shook his head. “Not yet. I’m still working on his hard drive. Rocky wouldn’t have called all the doctors who had practices back then. It wouldn’t have been legal for the doctors to share their patients’ names.”

“Someone else may have known about Dr. Benson,” Molly said. “I’ll ask April Frazier—that’s Nadia’s best friend—if anyone else knew about the pregnancy.”

“A nurse might have known,” Cicely said slowly. “Or a midwife, or even a doula, if she was planning ahead. Her pharmacist might also have known, especially if she was taking prenatal vitamins.”

Molly made notes on her phone. “Good ideas.” They were brainstorming, after all. Even if an idea wasn’t actionable, it could lead them to a better idea. “Finding those people now, after all this time, might be a problem, but it seems like Rocky managed to find someone.” It wasn’t a problem—it was a needle in a freaking haystack, but they had to try something new.

Gabe drummed his fingers on his knee. “She had terrible morning sickness. That’s what Mrs. Royce said. Remember?”

Molly nodded. “I remember.”

“Who is Mrs. Royce?” Cicely asked.

“She’s the woman who still lives on Xavier’s old street.” Gabe turned back to Molly. “Maybe Dr. Benson gave Nadia something for the nausea. Maybe Dad found her pharmacist.”

Molly winced. It was an even smaller needle in a bigger haystack, but she wouldn’t hurt Gabe’s feelings for the world. “I’m noting it, but it’s a very, very long shot.”

“I’ll search Rocky’s hard drive for anything related to a medication,” Antoine promised. “I’m finding crumbs of information, but so far, nothing has jumped out as important.”

“It’s unlikely that she would have confided the identity of the baby’s father to a pharmacist,” Molly said. “Especially since her lover had sworn her to secrecy about their relationship in general. But again, I’ve written it down.”

Gabe stroked Shoe’s back. “What about the dog?”

Molly looked at him. “The dog? You mean Madame Fluffy?”

“I knew the dog’s name was Fluffy,” Xavier said. “What about her?”

“She was a gift from Nadia’s lover,” Gabe said. “Did my dad mention finding the dog in the house when he told you about how he’d found her body that night of the flood?”

Cicely shook her head. “No, not that I recall. Xavier?”

“No, sir. He definitely didn’t. I told him about the dog that night. The rescuers were taking some of the pets in the boats, too. If he’d seen the dog, he probably would have taken it.”

“So… I’m assuming the father of Nadia’s unborn child killed her,” Gabe said. “April said that Nadia was going to demand he marry her. And if he was already married, that wouldn’t have ended well. What if she made the demand, they had a fight, and he killed her?”

“With you so far,” Molly said. This was a better train of thought. “And then?”

“And then he took the dog back. He’d given it to her as a gift. It’s an unusual breed. It can’t hurt to ask a few veterinarians what they remember.”

Molly noted it. “Not bad. We can make some calls, ask vets who were around back then if they remember anyone bringing in a new Afghan hound after Katrina.” Still a long shot, but a fancy dog like that might be remembered.

“Wait.” Cicely held up a hand. “Xavier saw that man murder that woman while he was sitting on the roof. That means the water was at least over the first story of Nadia’s house. How did her killer get in to kill her?”

There was a long, long moment of complete silence and a lot of open mouths.

How indeed?Molly thought, irritated with herself for not having thought of that earlier.

“Well,” Willa Mae murmured. “That is another very good question.”

“He had to have had a boat,” Gabe said slowly. “Maybe her killer was posing as a rescuer.”

“There were rescues going on everywhere,” André recalled. “Ordinary folks who had a boat. Some even stole boats to do the rescues. Then there was the Cajun Navy, NOPD, and the Coast Guard. It was less than organized. I was doing rescues down on Tchoupitoulas Street, in the Lower Garden District. There were rowboats and flat-bottomed bayou boats, shrimp boats and… well, anything that floated. If her killer had a boat, he wouldn’t have stood out.”

“And he probably can’t be traced, either,” Burke said grimly.

Molly sighed. “I’m still writing it down. Knowing he had access to a boat could help later. André, what about the murders of the pathologist and the mortician? What do you know?”

“Not much. The pathologist’s office was trashed, files stolen, computers destroyed.” André hesitated, and Gabe visibly tensed. “Her lab was burned and all the drawers in cold storage were opened. The bodies burned. Not to ash, but enough to make further autopsy very difficult.”

Poor Gabe.He’d gone pale, so Molly took his hand. It trembled. Goddammit.

“Oh no,” Cicely murmured, taking Gabe’s other hand. “I’m so sorry, Gabe.”

Gabe swallowed hard. “Thank you, Cicely. I mean…” He trailed off, staring at the ceiling while a few tears trickled from the corners of his eyes. “I know he’s gone and that he wouldn’t have cared what happened to his body, but I care. I wanted to put his ashes with Mom’s.”

“You should still be able to do that at some point,” André said softly. “And it’s still likely that another autopsy could be done confirming Dr. McLain’s findings. But right now, it’s a mess. Physically and legally. It could be a while before your dad’s body is released to you.”

“But wait,” Carlos said with a frown. “That seems really obvious, doesn’t it? Trashing the pathologist’s office was like they’re saying that they’re guilty. Wouldn’t that make investigators look harder at Rocky’s death?”

“If we’re all still around to push it,” Burke said grimly.

Molly frowned. What the hell, Burke?

Carlos flinched as if he’d been struck. “Oh. Okay.”

“What the hell?” Manny exploded. “We’re not just giving up and letting them kill us!”

Xavier dropped his head to his hands. “Fuck.”

Molly glared at Burke. “We will be around. We will all still be here to push it.”

“Of course we will,” Burke fired back. “That’s not what I meant. I meant that I know it and you know it, but that’s not what Rocky’s killer is thinking. Trouble is, too many of us know now. They—whoever they are—are going to be getting desperate.”

Xavier looked up. “And make mistakes?”

“I sure as hell hope so.” Burke rubbed his face. “Okay. André, who’s investigating the murders? Which department?”

“Dr. Benson lived in Lafourche Parish, so that’s their sheriff’s department. Mr. Woodruff, the mortician, died on his way home. He lives in Mid-City, but his car went off the road in Belle Chasse, so that’s Plaquemines Parish sheriff’s department. Dr. McLain was in Baton Rouge, so that’s BRPD. My boss knows that they’re connected, so I’m coordinating. It’s too early for any sizable amount of evidence to be processed, and Dr. McLain’s lab, as I said, is a mess. They’re proceeding very carefully there so they don’t corrupt any evidence. The sprinklers came on when the fire started.” He shrugged. “It’s not going to be quick.”

Molly swallowed another sigh, conscious of Gabe rigidly holding himself together. This was a disaster. “André, what do you know about Cornell Eckert’s death? Who are you questioning?”

André scowled. “That’s not my case, and I’ve been blocked from the information.”

That shouldn’t have surprised her, but it did.

Burke narrowed his eyes. “By whom?”

“By someone higher up the pay scale than me. My boss is trying to wade through the red tape. The Feds might even be getting involved, because Eckert had some prior warrants. They were there this morning, waiting for the arraignment.”

Burke groaned. “Lord have mercy. If the Feds get involved, we’ll never get any information.”

“That’s not fair,” André cautioned. “We have a mostly decent relationship with the Feds. I think the obstruction is on our end. But, to answer your question, Molly, I don’t know much. It had to be someone around the holding area. The logs don’t show anyone having visited him after his attorney left once he was booked. All I know is that it happened at the shift change. New guard came in to get him for court and found him dead.”

Molly rubbed her forehead wearily. “What about the guy posing as Paul Lott?”

“He’s gone under,” André said, clearly frustrated.

“His prints aren’t in AFIS, either,” Antoine added.

“And I did not hear you say that,” André stated.

Antoine put on his innocent face. “Say what?”

“But we do suspect he killed the real Paul Lott, right?” Molly pressed. “What evidence do you have from that crime scene?”

“Not much,” André admitted. “No usable prints. Lott had cameras around his home, but they’d been spray-painted over. All they caught was a guy in a hoodie. All of his skin was covered. No discernible features or traits.”

“So… nothing,” Molly said, feeling exhaustion creeping in. “Okay, so the route from present back to the past isn’t looking so good.” She eyed Gabe ruefully. “Tracking Nadia’s dog is looking better and better.”

Xavier glanced around the room. Everywhere but at his mother. “What if we lay bait?” He drew a breath. “Like me.”

“No!” The word exploded from Cicely’s throat, sounding terrified and final.

Molly could understand Cicely’s reaction, but this was the first proactive idea anyone had put forward.

Burke was tilting his head thoughtfully. “What do you mean?” he asked.

“Burke!” Cicely shouted. Actually shouted. She pushed to her feet, planting both fists on her hips. “No. That is simply out of the question.”

“Probably,” Burke allowed, “but let’s hear him out. You raised a smart young man. Let him talk.”

Cicely shook her head but sat down slowly. “You’re going to get my son killed.”

Gabe put his arm around her. “Let’s hear him out, like Burke said. Then we’ll say no.”

Cicely chuckled, but it came out as a sob. “Fine. Talk, Xavier.”

“I’m not keen on getting killed, Mama,” Xavier started. “But our options don’t sound so good. Especially if we ever hope to go home. I’m thinking that we create a situation that I wouldn’t be able to resist. Kind of like they tried to do with you today, Burke. Luring you out with the woman who claimed to be the victim’s sister.”

“We’re listening,” André said. “I’m inclined to agree with your mother, but keep talking.”

Cicely crossed her arms over her chest mutinously and said nothing.

“What if you call the lady back from this morning?” Carlos offered. “Tell her that X wants to talk to her? Because he saw her sister die and he needs closure or something.”

“But X won’t be there,” Manny added, “because it would be fucking stupid otherwise.”

“Thank you,” Cicely muttered.

Xavier nodded eagerly. “He wanted to follow you here, Burke. To us. So maybe after you talk to the lady again, you let them follow you. Try to lose them, so they’re not suspicious, but let them follow you to somewhere that isn’t here. Have a bunch of cops waiting for them. Catch them that way. I mean, they probably will send underlings to get me, but at least you’ll have someone to question.”

André tilted his head, considering. “My boss might go for that. We might even get an undercover officer that looks like you, Xavier, to ride with Burke. That way you stay safe.”

“Gee, thanks,” Burke said dryly. “I don’t need to stay safe.”

André grinned. “No problem. Let me work on it. The place would have to have some connection to Burke for them to buy the location.”

“Have him rent an Airbnb somewhere,” Willa Mae suggested. “If they’re watching Burke that closely, they may have an alert on his cards. Especially if one or more of ‘them’ is NOPD.”

André sobered. “True enough. I like that idea, ma’am. Let me work on it tonight. I’ll get back with you later.” He rose but paused when Molly held up her hand.

Her phone was buzzing with an incoming call from Steven Thatcher. “Hold on. This is my old boss. He said he’d check the address the woman gave in South Carolina.” She tapped her phone and held the phone to her ear. “Steven?”

“It’s not good,” he said.

She hadn’t thought it would be. “Can I put you on speaker? My group is here with me.” She did, then held the phone so that they could hear. “This is my old boss, Special Agent Steven Thatcher.”

“Hey, everyone,” Steven said. “The short version—we found the door ajar and a bullet hole in the window. We announced ourselves and entered. Then the place blew up.”

Holy shit.Everyone gasped, including Molly. “Was anyone hurt?” she asked.

“My newbie was thrown to the ground. She has a mild concussion, but she’ll be okay. The good thing is that she kind of resembles you, Molly. Not a ringer, but someone could mistake her for you if they were watching from far enough away. So we said it was you, that you had come to South Carolina to check it out and I’d gone along as backup. You’re in serious but stable condition and there’s an officer standing guard at your door in the hospital. Sorry. I had to think fast. But hopefully it’ll give you some cover for a little while.”

Molly blinked, stunned. Her first thought was for Chelsea. “I need to call my sister in case someone informs her as next of kin. She’ll be beside herself with worry.”

“Already called her,” Steven assured her. “She’s good. But you need to lay low for a while.”

“We’re doing that anyway,” she said. “Too many people are trying to kill us.”

Someone said something in the background, and Steven told them that he’d be right with them. “Molly, I gotta go. I’ll be in touch when I have something I can share from the crime scene. Stay safe, y’hear?”

“You, too. Thanks, Steven.” She ended the call and fixed her gaze on Burke. “That bomb was meant for me.”

Gabe had grown even paler. “Fuck,” he whispered.

Burke nodded grimly. “They take you out and Gabe would be alone. Or if he’d gone with you, he’d be hurt, too.”

The thought of Gabe being injured made her chest hurt. “Xavier’s bait plan just got better,” she said. “And it gives you another reason to contact her—you can tell her that her house was booby-trapped in case she came back. Warn her that she’s still in danger. I mean, we know she was leading us to a trap, but we don’t have to let her know that we know.”

“I agree,” Burke said. “Xavier’s bait plan is plan A.”

“My plan,” Carlos muttered under his breath, and Manny elbowed him. “Ouch!”

Molly shook her head although she had to admit to being a little bit grateful that Carlos was trying to lighten the mood. “The Carlos-Xavier-Manny-and-Willa-Mae plan, then.”

Cicely turned to Burke. “You won’t put Xavier in harm’s way, will you?”

“Not if I can help it,” Burke promised. “Molly and Gabe, are you staying here tonight?”

Molly shook her head. “Gabe, you can, but I want to go home. If they came after DeShawn because he’s connected to André and actually left a bomb in South Carolina for me, I don’t want my sister targeted.”

“Lucien is still there with her,” Burke said.

“I know and I trust him, but I still want to go home.” Don’t fight me on this, Burke. Please.

“I’ll stay with her,” Gabe said. “We’ll keep our heads down. I promise.”

Burke sighed. “Then go with André. Do not let anyone see you or you’ll ruin the cover your old boss has provided for you.”

“We won’t,” she assured him.

Burke looked unhappy, but he nodded. “Be careful.”

“We will.” Gabe stood up and pulled Molly to her feet first, then offered a hand to Cicely. “Ma’am?”

“No, I think I’ll sit a bit longer.” She smiled up at him, but there was fear in her eyes. “Come back to us soon.”

“We will,” Gabe said again.

André shouldered his rifle. “Come on. I need to get back to the city.”