Page 52 of Knife in the Back (New Orleans #4)

The Central Business District, New Orleans, Louisiana

“Is it finished?” he asked after accepting the call from Elaine’s burner.

“Not exactly.”

“What does ‘not exactly’ mean?”

Elaine had been tasked with killing the girl in the ICU bed. Susan Snyder had been one of theirs, but Pablo had sworn she was dead. That he’d checked.

If Pablo weren’t already dead, I’d kill him myself.

Wayne Stanley had been watching for her autopsy report, just to make sure nothing had been found that could link her to them, when—surprise, surprise—her name had popped up as a patient. She hadn’t been dead after all.

One of his own cops was on guard duty at the girl’s hospital door. Elaine was to have slipped into the girl’s room and injected fentanyl into her IV, drugging her into a slumber from which she wouldn’t wake.

Elaine had assured him that everything was under control.

It sounded like that was not the case.

“It wasn’t our guy at the door,” she said. “He got changed out at the last minute.”

“Holmes,” he said darkly. “He’s getting closer.”

The captain was highly involved in this case, running down leads on missing foster kids. A few of whom were currently housed in his new place of business.

“Yes. The cop on duty stopped me. Said I wasn’t on the approved list. He made a phone call, so I ran.”

“Did he chase you?”

“No. He stayed at his post. I got away.”

That was good, at least. With Winnifred and the Delgados gone, he was quickly running out of staff, and the week for which they’d been preparing started tomorrow. “Where are you now?”

“Across the street from the hospital. I just saw Burke Broussard going into the hospital. Naomi Cranston was with him, along with Val Sorensen, the sister of the flower shop owner. I didn’t get close enough to hear them say where they were going, but I’m betting it’s got something to do with Susan. ”

“I agree. Are you safe to stay in the area?”

“Yeah. I’ve changed my wig. No one will be looking for this version of me. Do you want me to take care of Naomi Cranston?”

“Yes. If you can get a good shot, do it.”

“And Broussard?” she asked, a little more warily.

He hated all this murder. But needs must. “Yes. Don’t get caught.”

“I won’t.”

He ended the call and dialed Stanley. “We’re at plan Z.”

“Broussard’s gotten closer?”

“He’s talking to Susan Snyder right now.”

“Dammit. Okay, I can get over to the hospital, but it’ll take me at least a half hour.”

“Get started. I don’t know how long Broussard and Naomi Cranston will be there, but you have a chance of getting to the parking garage before they come back. Elaine’s there now, preparing to carry this out, but you’re a better shot than she is.”

Stanley had hit Winnifred right between her eyes.

He’d missed Broussard and the others, but he wasn’t going to hold that against him. Stanley hadn’t expected them to be there. He’d tried to get them, but Broussard and his team had ducked by then and Stanley had run. He could not get caught.

Of all his staff, Stanley was the most valuable.

“Will do, sir. On my way.”

—

Tulane-Gravier, New Orleans, Louisiana

Wednesday, February 26, 3:25 p.m.

“You should have just let me get the SUV and pick you up,” Val muttered as she, Naomi, and Burke walked from the hospital to the parking garage.

But Burke hadn’t wanted to wait out in the open, and it wasn’t far to the garage. They would be fine. Still, Naomi was tense as they crossed the pedestrian bridge into the garage.

The parking garage was nerve-racking as well. It wasn’t dark, but there were shadows lurking in every corner.

Val hurried them along. “I don’t like this. Something feels wrong.”

“We’re hurrying,” Burke said, lengthening his stride as his hand stroked up and down Naomi’s back. It was really nice.

It almost made her forget to ask the question that had been lurking in her mind as she processed their conversation with Susan. What had bothered him about Winnifred calling the big boss Romeo?

That didn’t make any sense.

“Hey, Burke?” she murmured as they passed between a dirty gray pickup truck and a bright blue sedan. The SUV was only another twenty feet away.

“Hmm?”

“Why—?”

Her words dried up at the crack of the truck’s window close to where her head had been. The window suddenly pebbled, a tiny hole in the center of the damage.

Another ping had her jerking her head to stare at the bullet hole in the frame of the pickup truck, right next to Burke’s head. And then she was being dragged down, her hands and knees stinging when they scraped against the concrete.

Burke shoved her under the pickup truck. “Stay there!”

She made a keening noise when her head hit the underside of the truck. Muttering a curse, she twisted her head in time to see Burke aim and fire. Unlike the gun that had narrowly missed them, Burke’s weapon discharged with a loud boom that echoed throughout the space.

The difference in the sound was like night and day.

The shooter’s gun was suppressed.

Where is Val?

Burke ducked down as two more suppressed bullets hit the pickup truck. When he popped back up, he fired only once. Through the echoing boom, Naomi heard a scream and hoped Burke had hit the shooter and not someone else.

“Got her!” Val yelled, and Naomi shuddered out a relieved breath.

Burke slowly rose to see over the hood of the truck that had sheltered them. “She alone?” he yelled back to Val.

Naomi’s ears were ringing. She could barely hear Burke’s shout, which was probably why both he and Val were shouting.

“Not sure,” Val responded. “Stay down. I’ve restrained her. I’ll sit here with her. Call André. Tell him we found Elaine Billings.”

Naomi pulled herself sideways until she was no longer under the truck. She sat on the concrete floor of the garage, leaning against the pickup truck, which now sported four bullet holes.

She hoped the owner had good car insurance. Which was a ridiculous thing to be thinking about, but her mind had cleared of anything else.

Burke made his call to André, then turned to her, his face filled with fear. “Are you all right?” He ran his hands over her arms, down her sides, checking her out. “Were you hit?”

“No. You?”

“No.”

She slid her arm around his neck and pulled him close so that their foreheads touched. “You kept me safe, Burke. We’re fine.”

“I shouldn’t have let you leave the house.”

Let me? But Naomi bit the words back. Burke was shaking, and though he continued to rest his forehead against hers, he was still touching her, running his hands down her legs now. He was scared, so she’d let him have one stupid statement.

He wasn’t letting her do anything. But that was a conversation they’d have later.

They’d done everything as safely as they could. They’d brought Val with them for backup. And now they had one of Gaffney’s people in their hands.

“I want to see her,” Naomi said.

“When André gets here. When he says it’s clear. Until then, stay with me. Please.”

Her palms burned, so she used her fingertips to tilt his face so that she could kiss him. It was a hard press of lips, not the sweet kiss they’d shared that morning outside Amanda Cresswell’s house. But it seemed to penetrate his panic. “I’m okay. You’re okay. We’re okay , Burke.”

But they weren’t okay. None of this was okay.

You’ve been living on borrowed time for years. I think your time is up.

She released Burke, holding him close when his head fell to her shoulder. He was breathing in great gasps of air. Very much the opposite of the way he’d reacted the night before.

Last night, in the airport’s parking garage, he’d been grim, but in control. Today, he was literally shaking in his shoes. She stroked his dark hair, whispering comfort to him as he began to still.

By the time André rushed over from the hospital, five minutes had passed and four NOPD cruisers had pulled up, responding to 911 calls about the gunshots.

One of the officers started to give them a hard time for firing in a hospital parking garage, demanding Burke’s ID, but André’s arrival quelled that.

At least Naomi could hear the officer’s rant. The ringing in her ears was subsiding.

“It’s a fucking hospital, Captain!” the officer argued. “He can’t just shoot in here.”

Naomi got the officer’s concern. While a concealed carry permit was no longer required in most of Louisiana, there were still places, such as hospitals, where carrying a weapon wasn’t okay.

“He’s got a PI license,” André told the officer. “Stand down.” André crouched beside them, his face creased in concern. “You okay?”

Burke nodded. “They came close again, André. The Billings woman missed Naomi by less than an inch.”

Naomi frowned. “They missed you, too. Don’t make this about me, Burke. Elaine Billings was shooting at you, too.”

“?‘You’ve been living on borrowed time,’?” André murmured.

Naomi nodded, wincing when the movement hurt her head. “Exactly.”

“What’s wrong?” André asked. “You look like you’re in pain.”

“Bumped my head on the underside of the truck,” Naomi said. “No big deal. Have you cleared the garage yet? I want to see the woman who shot at us.”

André shook his head. “I don’t think she’ll say anything. She’s been read her rights and cuffed. Val trussed her up with zip ties. Made our job easier.”

“You’re welcome,” Val said dryly, walking up to where they still sat on the floor. “You got her in the forearm, Burke. Through and through. She dropped the gun, which made it easier for me to restrain her. That was good shooting.”

Burke tried to smile, but it was clearly forced. “Thanks. Can we go home, André? I need to get Naomi home.”

Naomi thought she was the one who needed to get Burke home, but she’d let him have a few caveman moments. He seemed to need the control.

“I’ll need your gun, Burke,” André said with regret.

Burke handed it over without any complaint. “Fired twice. There’s still a bullet in the chamber.”

André racked the gun and shook the chambered bullet free. “You’ll get this back. Eventually.”