Page 35 of Knife in the Back (New Orleans #4)

St. Gabriel, Louisiana

Naomi felt sick. Her skin was clammy and her throat burned from the bile rising from her churning stomach. She shook like she was coming down with the flu.

But it wasn’t the flu.

She was back.

Back in the place that tormented her dreams. In the place where she’d nearly been killed.

Back in the place she’d vowed never to see again.

But here she was, of her own volition.

“Naomi.” The word rumbled deep and soothing and she could almost feel Burke’s voice on her skin. His hand rubbed circles on her back, the contact the only thing keeping her from flying apart. “We don’t have to do this, darlin’. You don’t have to do this.”

Darlin’. He’d called her that once before. That morning when she’d yelled at Captain Holmes.

He’s just being nice. He probably calls everyone darlin’.

You’re not special.

You’re an ex-con who can’t control her fear of this place.

“We can’t do this,” Burke told the district attorney, a man with a kind face. Reuben Hogan was his name. “Not today, at least.”

“I understand,” Hogan said. “It’s all right, Miss Cranston. I can take your questions to Cresswell myself.”

No. No. “No,” she blurted out, clenching her fists so hard that her nails dug into her palms.

She would not let this fear control her. They couldn’t keep her here.

Can they?

No. They cannot.

“You’re going to walk out of here the way you walked in,” Burke murmured. “A free woman. Whether you walk out now or after you see Cresswell is entirely up to you. It’s your choice.”

She could feel both men watching her. Probably assessing her for a nervous breakdown. No way were they letting a crazy woman into the prison. Or if they did, they might not let her out.

Stop it. You’re losing control and this is not okay. You can do this.

I can. I can. I can.

Eyes closed tight, she kept repeating the words in her mind and drew a deep breath, smelling Burke’s aftershave. They’d both showered upon returning to his house in the Quarter, Eleanor Jackson in tow. They’d smelled like smoke from the fire.

The scent of his aftershave helped. Burke was safety. Security. He could protect her. He’d promised to.

She kept breathing until her heart was no longer beating in her sore throat. She’d played this game before, calming the panic that rose every time her cell door had slid closed.

What do you hear?

Burke’s deep, even breaths.

What can you smell?

Burke’s aftershave. Clean laundry, also Burke’s.

What can you feel?

Soft fabric on my cheek.

That ground her thoughts to a halt and she opened her eyes. And saw Burke’s white shirt, because she was clinging to him, her arms wrapped tightly around his waist.

His arms had wrapped around her, too, and he held her close. One hand stroked her hair and he was murmuring kind words in that Cajun rumble.

She should be embarrassed to be clinging to him like a koala. But she wasn’t.

This was hard. It would be hard for anyone, she thought. And if he was willing to give her comfort, she was going to take it with gratitude.

“I’m okay,” she whispered.

“I know,” he said with a confidence that rang true. “But even if you want to leave right now, you’re still okay. You’re still strong.”

But she’d regret it. Now that she could breathe, she could also think.

“I’ll be sorry till the day I die if I turn around now,” she mumbled into his muscled chest.

The man had a very, very nice chest.

“Would you like a bottle of water?” DA Hogan asked.

She forced herself to pull away from the safety of Burke’s arms and to face the DA. “Please. Thank you.”

Hogan disappeared into an office and Burke lifted her chin with his finger. His eyes were serious.

“You do not have to do this, Naomi. No one will think badly of you if we leave right now.”

“I’ll think badly of me. This is my chance to face the man who sent me here. One of the men, anyway. This is my chance to get to the truth, so that Everett will be safe. I can’t walk away.”

“Okay,” he said simply. “Hogan says I can come, too, so you won’t be alone.”

She stared up at him, sure that every one of her emotions was painted across her face with neon. “Thank you.”

He stroked her cheek with his thumb. “You’re welcome. Here comes Hogan.”

Naomi straightened her spine and thought she at least looked composed when the DA came back with a bottle of water.

“Unopened,” he said.

She appreciated that. “Thank you.”

“Shall we go?” Hogan asked. “Cresswell and his attorney are waiting for us in one of the interview rooms.”

They had to go through several sets of doors before reaching the interview room. She’d been in a similar room when her second attorney had come to speak to her. The women were housed in a different section of the facility, but the layout was similar.

Similar enough to send another wave of nausea through her.

She gripped Burke’s hand hard. “Sorry,” she whispered. “Am I hurting you?”

“No. Hold on as tight as you need to.”

Thank you, Sylvi. Thank you for bringing me to this man.

So it was with a thankful heart that she walked into the interview room, getting her first glance at Arthur Cresswell in more than six years.

She couldn’t control her gasp. Two and a half years in prison had aged him twenty. He looked old and frail.

And vacant. His eyes were empty.

She knew that look. She’d seen it in her own reflection when she’d been in protective custody. It was despair and hopelessness.

And maybe a touch of madness.

But she wasn’t going to feel pity for him. He’d ruined so many lives.

He tried to ruin mine.

But her life was not ruined. She would leave here a free woman. She would leave here to go back to her mother and James and her new friends.

She had a job she loved with Sylvi and the offer of an investigator position with Burke.

Her life was far from ruined. It felt like she was beginning again.

Her trembles were abating. Silently, she sat in the chair that Hogan pulled out for her. Burke sat on her left, Hogan on her right.

Cresswell was directly across from her, his attorney on his left. Behind them, a guard stood at attention.

Cresswell was staring down at the table. His shoulders were slumped, his demeanor defeated.

“Mr.Cresswell,” she said quietly. Steadily. “Do you know who I am?”

No answer.

“I know you’ve been in isolation for two and a half years. I know what that does to a person. I was in isolation for a year.” She drew a breath and released it. Let Burke’s aftershave soothe her once more. “Do you know why I was in isolation?”

No answer.

“Because I was stabbed in the prison cafeteria my first week here.” She pulled her hair back, exposing her scar, but Cresswell’s gaze was still fixed on the table. “Look at me, Cresswell,” she snapped. “You owe me that much.”

He startled and glanced up, meeting her eyes for the briefest of moments. But he saw her scar, so she let her hair fall back into place. “I nearly died. After that, I went into isolation. It was…well, you know what it’s like. Except I didn’t belong there. I was—and am—innocent.”

Still not a word. She hadn’t expected one.

“Why?” she asked. “Why did you pick me to frame?”

He simply shook his head and kept staring at the table.

He wasn’t going to speak to her, not yet.

So she leaned forward, lowering her head so that she could see part of his face. “Did they threaten your children like you threatened my son?”

His body jerked like he’d touched a live wire.

“I’ll take that as a yes. You can’t tell anyone at NOPD because they’re involved, isn’t that right?” No response. “You can’t ask for help because you’ve burned every single bridge you ever crossed.”

A shallow exhale was the only reply she received, but it was enough.

“What if we protect your children? They’re in high school now, but still vulnerable. Just like my sixteen-year-old son was yesterday when one of Gaffney’s thugs tried to grab him off the street.”

Cresswell glanced up and some of the vacantness was gone, replaced by a raw hope that she also understood.

“We can protect them. Not for you, but because they’re innocent and don’t deserve to pay for your crimes. Burke Broussard is a good man. He’ll guard your children.” She hoped she wasn’t making an offer that Burke would deny.

“Yes,” Burke said quietly. “If it were only you, I’d let you rot in here.

But your kids are innocent. If you want them to be able to live their lives free from fear, all you need to do is give us the information we’re asking for.

Why Naomi? Why frame anyone at all? Who is Gaffney working with now?

Because he’s resurrected your business.”

“And he may have even expanded it,” Naomi added. “Unless you stole children and trafficked them for sex.”

Cresswell’s attorney shook his head. “He’s not answering that.”

“He doesn’t have to,” Naomi said.

Because Cresswell had fully lifted his head, and there was horror in his eyes. He still said nothing, but his expression was one of unfettered revulsion.

So it appeared there was a line the bastard hadn’t crossed.

“Will you cooperate with us?” Naomi said. “In exchange, your children will be protected. Your wife, too, assuming she’s also innocent.”

His eyes shone with unshed tears. Still he said nothing.

“Do you know who Gaffney is working with?” Naomi asked. “We will protect your children. Mr.Broussard keeps his word. As do I.”

Cresswell glanced at Burke before returning his gaze to hers.

Oh, he knows. Naomi was certain of it.

“Who is it?” she pressed.

Cresswell opened his mouth, then shut it quickly. He dropped his gaze to the table once again.

“Are we done?” the attorney asked placidly.

“They threatened my first attorney’s children, too,” Naomi said to the lawyer. “Do you have children, sir?”

“That is none of your affair,” the attorney snapped. “Guard, please take my client back to his cell.”

The guard gripped Cresswell’s shoulder, hauling him to his feet.

The frail man stumbled before straightening his body and locking his knees so they didn’t buckle.