Page 7

Chapter Seven

“D id you put some feelers out to the contacts we’ve made?” Kenna pulled the car into one of the few spaces in this little public parking lot. It was going to cost a fortune for the privilege of leaving the car here during dinner at the restaurant Adrielle had chosen.

She glanced over at Maizie in the passenger’s seat, wearing her nicest black jeans, boots, and a white T-shirt and denim jacket. Her hair was loose and curled because she’d been watching videos on how to do it.

The teen said, “I’m waiting on a reply from the resistance about Roxanne.”

“Trust but verify.”

“I should write that down. Start a notebook. Kenna’s rules for investigation.”

“By the way,” Kenna said, changing the subject, “you look like a rock star in that outfit. Oh, I know! You actually look like you got famous as a child star, and now you’re trying to keep things low-key so no one recognizes you.”

Maizie chuckled. “You’re weird. And you look like you, by the way.”

“That’s a good thing.”

“Yeah.” Maizie sighed. “It is. You look like you’d be ready to chase a guy through the bayou or search through a compound that belonged to a cult in Washington state. Or fly to England and crack a case wide open.”

“What about dinner at a fancy restaurant?” Because that’s exactly what they were about to do. “Should I have worn the slacks?”

“You’re supposed to be comfortable and not care what anyone thinks.”

“Some places have a dress code, and it isn’t sweats.”

Maizie said, “You look fine. Those are your nicest door-kicking pants.”

Kenna figured this confusing conversation was probably par for the course with a teenager. Maizie developing her own—sometimes strong—opinions about the adults in her life was a very good thing. No matter what, she would take every drop of normalcy she could.

“I’m going to wear that dress to get married.”

Maizie grinned. “I can’t wait to see Jax’s face.”

Kenna grinned right back. “Me, too.” She caught the time on the dash clock. “We need to go in. They’re probably waiting for us.”

Maizie waited until they were out of the parking lot and on the sidewalk before she asked, “What am I gonna say if they ask me where I grew up and stuff like that?”

“Laney knows where you came from. At least the highlights, enough to know what not to ask because it would make you uncomfortable.”

“What about Jax’s mom? Don’t you want to tell her the truth?”

Kenna said, “Kids have opinions about their parents. And in my life, I have levels of trust. It seems like Jax trusts his sister implicitly. That’s why they were invited to Stairns’ place last Christmas. But it seems like he keeps his parents a little more at arm’s length.”

“Like he doesn’t tell them everything.”

Kenna glanced over. “Most kids don’t tell their parents everything even when it’s a good relationship.”

“Huh. Don’t they trust them?”

“It’s more about privacy. Or autonomy. You don’t have to share all of yourself with someone if you don’t want to. Does anyone share every thought they have in their head?”

“I do sometimes…with Elizabeth. But less now than a year ago, I guess.”

“Right. Sometimes, we need to be honest because we need to get something out, and then after that, it feels better. We could go back to that level of sharing later, for accountability. Or stick with this. Depends on what’s happening, like the seasons. You always wear shoes, but they change depending on the weather. Like how much of your foot they cover and how insulated you want them to be.”

Sometimes, it was about protection.

Kenna continued, “I’ve had seasons in my life where I saw no one for days and rarely talked to anyone unless I was on a case. Look at me now. This season, I’ve got more people than I know how to handle.”

Maizie chuckled. “Deal with it.”

“So much compassion.” Kenna wiped a fake tear from the corner of her eye and approached the door to the restaurant, aware they were being watched. Probably by Ramon, but it might not be only him. Far as she knew, Bruce and Stairns would be around later to be on hand. Whatever Bruce was working on wasn’t happening tonight.

Hard to tell if the itch between her shoulder blades was down to her friends keeping her and Maizie in their sights or someone with a far more nefarious intention. Either way, there was plenty of protection surrounding Maizie. Kenna was going to have to get used to the teen being exposed—out in public where anyone could see her.

Tomorrow, she was going to have Bruce and Stairns sit down with her and explain the whole of what Bruce was working. The last thing she needed, when there was likely a case here, was for her to be distracted by their thing. Worrying if they needed help. Or needing their help when they were tied up. She’d rather work on one case at a time than split her focus.

The ma?tre d’ stepped out, holding the door for them. Inside was remarkably warmer than outside. She scanned the place, looking for Jax’s mom and sister.

“Table for two?” He was older, probably in his sixties, and wore a black waistcoat over his crisp white shirt. He slid a couple of single page, embossed menus on white cardstock from under his podium.

“I see them.” Maizie pointed.

“Thanks,” she told the guy. “But we see our friends.”

“Have a wonderful evening.”

“Thank you.” Maizie headed across the room with zero hesitation. Kenna watched her, in awe of how far the girl had come out of her shell.

Adrielle and Laney got up. They both kissed Kenna on the cheek, and Laney gave Maizie a hug. Jax’s mother smiled endearingly at the teen.

“This place is supposed to have fabulous sea bass.” Adrielle slipped some dainty gold glasses on her nose and looked at the menu.

“How was your afternoon, Kenna?” Laney asked her.

Kenna shrugged. “Not too exciting. I do need to call Jax later, though. Fill him in. It’s nice to be in the same time zone.”

Laney seemed disappointed. “I guess there’s always tomorrow.”

“Looking to get swept up in a case?” The woman was in her thirties and had two elementary-age kids. Maybe she wanted some excitement. Too bad. The last thing Kenna wanted to have to explain to her fiancé was that his sister had been sucked into something dangerous. “I can’t say I’d recommend it.”

“My husband said the same thing.”

Kenna smiled at her. “What about an adventurous vacation? Somewhere exotic.”

“That could work.” Laney tipped her head to the side. “Oh, maybe a murder mystery cruise!”

Maizie said, “That sounds like fun. But I don’t think I want to be trapped on a boat for that long.”

“It’s a ship, dear,” Adrielle said with a slight smile. “A floating tin can with four thousand other passengers onboard, and it’s been two days since they ran out of shrimp.”

Maizie grinned. “I prefer my Airstream. It’s a tin can, but it won’t wash away.”

“Agreed,” Kenna said.

Laney asked, “Have you and Jax talked about where you’re going to go on your honeymoon?”

“Not yet.” She’d figured some quality RV time. Or they’d head to a cabin somewhere with no cell signal and no way for anyone to track them.

Laney said, “You should go on a murder mystery cruise. You’d win, if they make it a competition.”

“With my track record,” Kenna said, “we’ll end up in the middle of some kind of international smuggling operation or somehow finding a killer who uses the cruise ports to cover up his activity and throw the local police for a loop.”

Adrielle glanced at her and blinked.

“I’m thinking that having no one around, just us, might be a whole lot safer.” She wanted to explain more, but Maizie’s cheeks had reddened.

Adrielle said, “I’d normally hesitate to suggest this, but have you thought about Canada? Somewhere remote, like the coast of British Columbia.”

Kenna smiled at her future mother-in-law. “That sounds like a great idea. I should add it to the list.”

Adrielle looked back at her menu, smiling. “Happy to help.”

Kenna tried not to stare at the woman, but when she’d met Jax’s mother earlier this year after they got engaged, she’d seemed a lot different than this. She’d deferred to his father, let him set the tone and steer the conversation. His father was curt and clearly saw things only his way. Adrielle seemed to come out of her shell when he wasn’t around.

This woman was one Kenna could grow to love. She didn’t have a whole lot of experience with maternal figures in her life but figured they might be able to make this work.

“Thank you.”

Adrielle must not have heard her because she didn’t look over or say anything. Meanwhile, for Kenna, having something in her life she didn’t have to worry about was a breath of fresh air. This woman wasn’t a source of stress. Kenna’s marriage wouldn’t have to be a nightmare when it came to her extended family.

She glanced around and caught Laney staring at her. They shared a smile, and Laney said, “Seemed like you went through something profound putting on that wedding dress, if you don’t mind me saying.”

Kenna didn’t want her to worry. “I did. But I’m good.” Another thing to debrief with Jax about, along with telling him about the possible serial killer. “How long will the two of you be in Denver?”

“Trying to get rid of us already?” Laney grinned.

Kenna glanced at Adrielle, who was still studying the menu. She mouthed, Serial killer , in Laney’s direction and watched her expression change to something more like fear. That was good. Some healthy fear could give Laney a little more levelheadedness. “It’s been wonderful seeing both of you.”

“And getting all those samples at the wedding show,” Maizie said. “What’s a remoulade? Did I say that right?”

“Fancy salad dressing.” Laney glanced at Kenna. “We have our flights booked for tomorrow morning, unless there’s another altercation with a mysterious woman or life-changing moment we should stick around for.”

“Might be better to get out of harm’s way.”

Laney looked at Maizie, then back at Kenna. “You guys be careful, okay? Y’all make me nervous with the crime fighting.”

“Honestly, Laney,” her mom said. “Y’all? Is that how we address people?”

Laney grinned. “I’m having the steak and pasta. I feel like splurging.”

“Oh, good idea.” Maizie dropped her menu to the white tablecloth in front of her. “I hope it’s as good as Stairns’ steaks.”

Kenna’s phone buzzed in her pocket. She only looked at it long enough to see who the notification was from, not intending to pull it out at dinner.

The text was from Bruce.

I’m hungry. Y’all are talking about food too much.

She replied.

She’s married.

His response came back almost immediately.

I have eyes, don’t I?

Kenna stowed her phone. When she looked up, she saw someone get up from a table across the room and head toward the bathroom. For a second, she got a look at the woman’s face. Her hair was dark brown, the same color as Kenna’s, but threaded with some silver strands. Her skin was not quite Caucasian, a little darker, and not just from spending too much time in the sun. As if she might have Greek in her ancestry.

She walked away, winding between tables, and disappeared down a back hallway. Probably the location of the restrooms.

Kenna drew her phone out and stood, making her call at the same time.

“Yo,” Bruce answered.

“Back door. Now.”

She glanced at the three women at her table. “I’ll be back.” To Maizie, she said, “Don’t move.”

Kenna walked as slow as she could without running. She tried to keep the fast walk from drawing attention to herself and finally pushed through the door to the back hall. She’d been right that the restrooms were back here.

And a door that led into the busy kitchen.

A guy glanced over and frowned at her.

She continued walking, and at the end of the hall, the exit door clicked shut. Kenna didn’t bother with the ladies’ room since it was far more likely she’d left out the back. A dine and ditch? The restaurant might have security footage to keep them from losing money over that.

Kenna unsnapped the latch on her gun that kept it in the holster, but she didn’t draw it from the small of her back. She pressed down the bar and looked outside.

Bruce ran from one end of the building at the back. She let the door shut behind her and scanned the parking lot behind the restaurant, a spot for customers of the neighboring building to use. A few dumpsters overflowing with trash. Stairns ran from the other end of the lane.

They met her in the middle, and she asked, “Did either of you see a woman?”

Both shook their heads.

Stairns said, “The same blonde from earlier, Roxanne, wasn’t it?”

“Not her.” Kenna gave them a description of the woman.

Bruce shifted his weight from one foot to the other. “You think it was your mom?”

“I’m not sure.” Now that the moment was over, she didn’t know what to think. “I really only saw her for a second. Maybe she went in the bathroom.”

Stairns opened the back door for her. “We’ll look around anyway.”

“Thanks, guys.”

Bruce said, “Enjoy your dinner.”

She glanced at him, wondering what that tone was in his voice. He turned away before she could ask, so she went to the ladies’ room and found it empty of people. She needed to get back and tell Maizie everything was fine but caught a flash of something as she turned. A plain envelope had been left on top of the towel dispenser. It couldn’t have been there long, or someone would’ve noticed it.

Kenna eased the flap open and tugged out the folded paper.

Lines of text followed each other down the page—what looked like a back-and-forth conversation. A transcript, or an internet-based chat, something like orders given and received. Instructions. She folded it and slipped it into her pocket, leaving the restroom at a walk since the contents of the note hadn’t been information about a terror threat or someone’s life in danger. Unless it was in code. But it could wait—she needed to let Maizie know everything was fine. That was her first priority.

Her phone buzzed with a message from Stairns.

Didn’t find anyone outside.

Kenna went back to the main dining room. Had that actually been her mom or just a trick of the light? Memory from a photo that had given her a sense of something familiar about the woman.

All for a note that wasn’t even a note.

The photo she’d been given at the US Embassy in London months ago had said, Don’t believe anything they tell you . It was written on the back of a photo of Kenna and the woman she’d believed for most of her life was her mother—Amara.

So, was the novel The Constantine Initiative full of truth or lies?

Or was it something else entirely?