Five

As the one with the most undercover operative experience, Tenny had declared himself in charge of all major strategic decisions. He’d been the one to insist that they get a hotel room – or three, rather – as a base of operations, arguing they would need a place to shower, change, eat, and rest in relative safety, no matter what greeted them in New Orleans. But the very low-profile, nondescript Holiday Inn he selected was half-closed thanks to construction, and the rest of it booked up. It was too far from the action, anyway. So Maggie scored them two rooms in one of the very charming, French-inspired hotels on the Rue St. Anne. Their rooms faced the street on one side, and the doors let out onto a gallery that overlooked a courtyard with a fountain and grove of banana trees. It was charming, and creaky-floored, decked out in gold tassels, and satin wallpaper, the bathrooms equipped with claw-foot tubs and old-fashioned toilets with pull-chains.

Had she been in the mood to appreciate aesthetics, Ava would have found it utterly charming. Given the circumstances, she was grateful for the proximity to downtown, and their view of the street. It felt like hiding in plain sight, and that was a good thing.

Worried that Alex and Colin would grow short-tempered – that was putting it mildly – with Tenny’s…essential Tennyness, they’d given the brothers one room, and Maggie and Ava were sharing one of the full-size beds in the other room, Reese and Tenny with the other. Not that any of them had slept.

Ava attempted to do something with her hair in front of the bathroom mirror, gave up, and scraped it all back up into a sloppy bun again.

Out in the room, Colin said, “I think we should wait.”

Ava sighed at her reflection – sallow, droopy with exhaustion – and walked out of the bathroom to find him pacing back and forth in the open alley of carpet between the beds and the TV stand. Maggie sat on the end of one bed, Reese on the other, both of them watching his progress with the lazy interest of unhungry cats observing a trapped bird.

A very big trapped bird.

Ava said, “Why should we wait?” Not because she wanted to know, but because if Colin was going to wimp out, they needed to get it over with. He’d been cool and collected during the shootout, but now he vibrated with tension, hands tensing and flexing on his hips as he paced.

“Ten won’t care,” Reese said, like an offering. “I’ll text him where we’re going.”

Colin rounded on him, scoffing. “I don’t give a shit what Ten thinks. He’s not the boss of anybody here, ‘cept maybe you.”

Reese shrugged, unbothered. “He’s not my boss, either.”

“Oh, well, thank Christ for that .”

“Colin,” Maggie said, using the same voice she used on Ash when he was at his most recalcitrant. “What are you worried about?”

He scrubbed a hand through his hair and let it trail down his jaw before it swung down at his side, limp with fatigue. He glanced first at Maggie, then at Ava. “Gee, I wonder.” Resumed pacing.

“You think an extra two guys will keep us safer?” Ava asked.

“Yes.”

“You know we’re not helpless, right?”

He stopped propped his hands back on his hips, and sent her a look half-dark with anger, and half-pleading. “It’s dangerous enough that you’re here in the first place–”

“Really?”

“But if something happens to you–”

“Colin,” Ava said, and pinched the bridge of her nose to keep from biting his head off. “I’m not taking us into the swamp, or a – a fucking Roadhouse honky-tonk. She’s a little old lady who lives alone.”

“Or so you think.”

“Colin–”

“ Ava ,” he said, low, and deep, and dark in a way he never was. It startled her. Maggie, too, judging by the way she jerked upright, absently swinging foot going still. Colin had stopped pacing, and turned to face her. With his hands on his hips, his shoulders were rolled back, emphasizing their width, and he’d never looked more like Mercy – though Mercy certainly never looked at her like she was a wayward child, the way Colin was doing now.

It was so jarring, seeing that expression on a face so familiar, so close to the one she wanted, but not quite, that her jaw snapped shut, teeth clicking together.

Colin said, “Mercy’s already gonna be pissed that we let you come. He’s gonna be somewhere way, way beyond pissed. One time, in high school, he gave me a dead arm so bad I couldn’t reach up over my head for three days. He’s gonna put me in the fucking hospital for this,” he said, wholly serious, eyes flashing. “What do you think happens if we” – he made a circular gesture to include himself and Reese – “let you get hurt? Or…” He didn’t say killed , but the twitch of his brows said it for him.

“How touching that your biggest concern is Mercy not knocking all your teeth out,” she snapped.

“Oh my…” He pushed both hands through his hair and started walking again. Stopped. Stared her down, even angrier than before. “Obviously I’m worried about you . Fucking obviously .”

Maggie got to her feet and pressed both hands down through the air in a soothing gesture. “Okay, guys. Let’s take it down a notch.”

“We’re wasting time,” Ava said. “We can cover more territory if we split up.” Before Colin could argue further, she said, “We have you, and Reese, and Mom and I will both be armed.” She stayed him again, palms out. “I appreciate the concern. I hear you, okay? I do. And I know . But Mom and I were headed down here anyway. This way, we’ve got more backup.”

“We’ll leave it up to y’all when we get there,” Maggie said, a peace offering. “If something doesn’t seem right, we’ll bail. Okay?”

Colin’s face worked through a series of bitten-back retorts – it was a little hilarious, actually – and he turned, scrubbing at his jaw, to send a silent, questioning look to Reese.

“It’s pretty straightforward,” Reese said. “You take point. I’ll bring up the rear.”

“Besides,” Ava said. “I’m not sure if Barbara will even remember me – I only met her once. But if you’re with me, she’ll know it’s about Mercy.”

He resisted another minute, but finally caved, shoulders slumped.

When they left the hotel, it was a wonder he and Reese could walk given how many weapons they’d stashed on their persons.

Colin did in fact take point, at Reese’s suggestion, and Reese brought up the rear, slouched and unassuming.

The house was a different color than Ava remembered: a soft pinky-peach, with yellow shutters and a blue door. The porch ceiling was the same blue, though, and Ava recognized the gas coach lamps on either side of the door.

Maggie stepped subtly back, and Ava realized the boys were hanging back, too. She took a deep breath, and knocked.

Then they waited.

And waited.

Colin said, “Maybe–”

“Give her a minute,” Ava snapped.

There came the sound of a lock disengaging.

The door cracked. She hadn’t changed at all, aside from the shorter hair, and the visible glimpse of a fine silk blouse. Her eyes were just as shrewd.

“Miss Barbara?” Ava said, as sweetly as she could manage right now, which wasn’t that sweet at all. “It’s Ava Lécuyer. Felix’s wife.”

For a moment, Ava didn’t think it would work. Barbara’s face was so blank, but then she blinked, and eased the door open another inch, and said, “Good Lord, child.”

“Can we come in?”

Barbara hesitated.

Ava said, “I have Felix’s brother, Colin, with me.” She motioned behind her back, and, after a sigh, Colin stepped into view.

“Hello, Miss Barbara.”

Her brows lifted, marginally. “Well. I see that.”

“We’re here to help Felix,” Ava said. “And his family.”

One black brow lifted. “Aren’t you his family?”

Damn. She was still sharp. “Yes, ma’am.” Ava felt a rush of desperation, and decided to work with it. “This is my mom, Maggie, and you know Colin. Our friend, Reese.” She gestured. In a more deferential tone, she said, “May we come in?”

Barbara considered them another moment, then nodded. “Alright.”

Save a few decorative touches, the house was as Ava remembered it: high ceilings, ornate moldings; a narrow entryway that gave onto a broader back half, in typical New Orleans fashion, meant to beat the street frontage taxes. She didn’t recall the particulars – all she could really remember was Dee, wasted and yellow against the pillows, brittle, and dying, and still awful to her son. Ava had been so preoccupied by the horror that was knowing Dee hated Mercy that she hadn’t paid as close attention as she should. Now, she noted ornate chandeliers, and fine furnishings.

Barbara appeared to be alone. She led them through a foyer, and a kitchen/living room combo into a sitting room furnished in blues and golds. She gestured for them to sit, and then settled on a tall, tufted stool, legs crossed, imperious in her midnight skirt and white blouse.

She linked her hands together and said, without prompt, “People have been asking about Felix.”

Ava’s stomach wanted to somersault. It didn’t, but it could have, at a different time. “Who’s been asking?”

Barbara shook her head. “That doesn’t matter to me.”

Oh, God , the still-sane, still-rational part of Ava’s mind suppled. She’s gonna make us jump through hoops.

“Miss Barbara,” Ava pressed on, heart pounding. “Felix is–”

“His kid’s missing,” Colin broke in. “That’s why we’re here. His and Ava’s oldest. Remy. Named after the old man. Someone kidnapped him.”

Ava shot him a warning look, but he was staring at Barbara.

“Remy?” she asked, and a chill skittered up Ava’s back. Barbara knowing his name wasn’t any sort of threat, but the way she repeated it, as if she’d already known, broke Ava’s arms out in gooseflesh.

Barbara tipped her head, mulling it over, lips compressed. “Felix did always love that man. More than he deserved.”

For the first time since she decided to come, standing in the clubhouse hallway while Mercy tried not to fall apart, and begged her to go to London instead, Ava wondered if she’d miscalculated. She knew no one in this city, and had had no one from which to glean information. She remembered Barbara as small, and tidy, and self-possessed, regal in her quiet, understated way. She still was those things…but Ava also remembered her as genuinely caring about Mercy. Feeling empathy for him, and trying to be kind in their brief encounter.

Maybe she still did care for Mercy, but Ava wasn’t him.

Barbara had also spent a large chunk of her life looking after Dee Lécuyer. No one did that without loyalty. And Dee, Ava remembered well, had not only hated her on sight, but hated her son as well.

Coming here had been a mistake.

But. In for a penny.

In as neutral a tone as she could muster – pretty damn neutral, given the near-complete shutdown of higher emotional functioning lately – Ava said, “Miss Barbara, the man we’re looking for, the man who took Remy, is an FBI agent.”

Again, she didn’t seem surprised. Her head tilted the other way, gaze boring into Ava’s face, where she could feel the first prickles of sweat gathering at her hairline, and on her temples. “His uncle?”

Shit. She knew about Alex.

Colin shifted his weight, a sudden flurry of movement, then settled again, like he’d meant to say something, and then thought better of it.

“No,” Ava said. “Alex Bonfils is helping us.” Across the room, leaning against a peacock-printed armchair, Reese caught her gaze and gave the faintest shake of his head that she read as don’t reveal too much . She didn’t intend to, but this wasn’t a normal source of information. She felt like she’d stumbled unknowingly into a chess game half-asleep. But no one else stood a better chance of getting info out of Barbara. She said, “How do you know about him?”

There were women who would have smirked, fluffed their hair, taken a bit of relish in knowing something someone else didn’t. Something that had been kept secret for more than thirty years. But not Barb. Her eyes were a clear, amber-gold, striking against her dark skin, and they stared and stared and Ava wanted to shiver again.

“Remy – Remy the elder – wasn’t as careful as he thought he was. Poor Felix never knew what he got up to, but Dee kept an eye on him. She knew about Colin” – she nodded toward him – “and Alexandre all along. The woman – the mother – used to go to the same hairdresser. Dee used to talk with her, sometimes.”

“Jesus,” Ava muttered. “Did she reveal herself?”

“No. But I suspect Tina knew who Dee was.”

Ava envisioned it: she’d never seen a photo of Alex’s mother, but Remy had a type – like his sons, she thought, reflecting on Jenny, on Agent Duet – stacked and blonde. (She really was an outlier, wasn’t she?) In her mind’s eye, she saw Dee squared off from someone who could have been her sister, looks-wise. Tense, toothy smiles, and saccharine compliments. Small talk, and feigned interest in mentions of work, family, children. Had Alex’s mom talked about him? I’m so proud of my boy, he’s in training to become an FBI agent . What about Dee? I hate my sonuvabitch son so much he pretends I’m already dead .

There were other, more pressing questions to ask, but the one that formed on Ava’s tongue needed to come out, or drive her crazy forever for missing her shot. “Dee didn’t want to be with Remy – she left him . So why was she so obsessed with him? Why’d she keep tabs on him?”

That finally landed like an arrow. Barbara blinked, and, afterward, her gaze skated across the room. It snagged on something – maybe Reese, going by her slight frown – and then returned. Her eyes weren’t so impassive this time. “Dee was complicated.”

“So’s cancer. It’ll still kill you.”

The first glimmer of emotion touched her: frown lines deepening around her mouth. “She–”

Out of patience, Ava decided to swing the hammer, and sweep up the glass if necessary. “She was a bitch,” she said, coldly, and Barbara’s brows jumped, once.

Colin muttered, “Oh, fuck me.”

Maggie nodded, subtly. Approving. It gave Ava the nerve to press on.

“I know you cared about her,” Ava said. “And I know that, even though she’s dead, your loyalty lies with her, and not us. Not Felix. I’m not here to resurrect ghosts. I’m looking for my son. Loyalty to Dee aside, you should at least want to protect an eight-year-old boy who never hurt anyone. Dee’s grandson, at that.”

Barbara jerked, sat somehow more upright, and crossed her legs the other way. Picked an invisible spot of lint off her skirt. She met Ava’s gaze head-on, and Ava thought she was seeing the real Barbara for the first time. In a sharp, affronted voice, she said, “Did I say I didn’t want to help your little boy?”

“Not in so many words,” Ava shot back. “But you sure were beating around the bush about it.”

Barbara snorted – and then relaxed. “You’re not unlike her, you know.”

“That’s one hell of a way to not compliment someone.”

Barabara regarded her another moment – and then smiled. Broadly. It was fleeting, though. A moment later she grew serious again, but in a softer, more sincere way. “What’s the name of the man who took your boy?”

“Harlan Boyle.”

Without prompt, Reese stood and produced his phone to show Barbara a photo of him, an official headshot Ratchet had forwarded to everyone. Barbara gripped his wrist to pull the phone closer, squinted at it, then nodded, and pushed his hand back.

“I’ve seen him before, but not recently.”

“When?” But Ava had an ugly, wriggling sense that she knew.

“Long time ago.” Barbara caught her gaze and held it, not merely serious, but worried, true emotion bleeding through, at last. “I checked his ID myself. He’d just turned eighteen. I took his license in to put it under the blacklight to make sure it was real. He looked young .”

“Holy shit,” Colin muttered.

“He was a customer?” Ava asked.

Barbara nodded. “He requested Dee by name. She thought he was cute, so she was on board…”

Before she could register the thought, Ava was on her feet and pacing the room. “Oh my God.” She pressed a hand to her forehead, and felt her pulse throbbing there. “He had sex with Mercy’s mom . Oh my God .”

“I didn’t know he was FBI,” Barbara said.

Maggie said, “He wasn’t, then. Just a kid. Clearly one who was very obsessed.”

“Oh my God,” Colin said. “Holy – okay. I think – I think maybe he talked to me, once.”

Ava rounded on him. “And you didn’t think to tell us?!”

“I didn’t remember!” He threw his hands out. “I never knew his name! He was just some guy who came by my locker. He was asking about Mercy – about Felix – and said he knew his dad, but not his mom. I…” He faltered, sighing. “I may have said she was a hooker.”

“Damn,” Maggie said, twisting around, looking stunned.

Ava pegged Barbara with a look. “What happened? After, I mean.”

Barbara shook her head. “I wasn’t in the room, obviously. But he left, same as everyone. I didn’t see him again.”

“But this proves he was obsessed. He – he fucking banged Mercy’s mom! That speaks to…something.”

“Something fucked up,” Colin muttered.

“You said people have been asking about Mercy,” Maggie said. “Was one of them Boyle?”

Barbara shook her head emphatically. “No. Not him, and not the FBI. But…” She hesitated, and folded her arms – protectively, Ava thought. “Bad men. Dirty. Rowdy.”

Ava caught Maggie’s gaze, then Reese’s. “Hired guns,” she said to Barbara, who nodded.

“I didn’t tell them anything,” she assured.

“Good. Awesome. But.” She took a deep breath, and Barbara lifted a hand – it was a soothing gesture. “Do you know anything? About Boyle? About where Remy might be?”

Barbara said, “I might know something.”