Page 59 of Knife in the Back (New Orleans #4)

“Well, you should call the other name on your list,” Doug said kindly.

“Thank you. I’m sorry to have asked.”

“No worries.”

Burke stared at his phone for a moment before repeating the call to the other protection company.

The result was the same.

Kaleb hadn’t called either of the companies Burke had recommended. Was Kaleb that angry with him? Did he really want nothing to do with him at all?

Who had he called instead?

He texted Lucien. Need your help. Can you do a few days at the Marchand house? Their protection didn’t work out. But you’ll need to stay out of sight of Kaleb.

The three dots cycled for a long minute.

Why?

Burke sighed. Never mind.

His phone buzzed with an incoming call from Lucien and he hit accept. “Hey.”

“Burke, look. I know you’re going crazy with this case right now. As long as Harrison and Molly hang around the house for Harper and the others, I can do the detail. I don’t mind. But I don’t like not knowing why I’m avoiding the homeowner.”

“He’s been acting strangely. That’s all I feel okay sharing.”

“Fair enough. I’ll be over there as soon as I can.”

“Thank you, Lucien.”

Burke ended the call as Val got into the SUV. “Miss me?” she asked, her cheer forced.

“Always,” he assured her. “Best get us back to the Quarter. You and I have to pick up Eleanor and take her to see her neighbors, and we’re tight on time.

” They were meeting at eight thirty at the athletic center where the QuarterMasters played.

“The Druid parade’s probably only halfway done and Alta follows on its heels, so you should take the long way around. ”

“I hate Mardi Gras,” she muttered.

Normally Burke would disagree. This was his favorite time of year in the best city on earth. But this year, his heart was full of fear and sadness.

Except Naomi was waiting for him at home. That lifted some of the sadness. The fear, however, remained.

—

The Quarter, New Orleans, Louisiana

Wednesday, February 26, 7:15 p.m.

It was a dream. Naomi knew it was a dream because the door to her cell was wide open and there were no guards around. She wanted to stay where she was but she heard the screaming. It chilled her to the bone.

She was moving through the prison corridors, though she didn’t want to be. She was looking, though she dreaded what she’d see.

Bodies. Everywhere. They lay on the floor in pools of blood. Rivers of blood. Her feet splashed in it as she walked. She looked for Nessa, for the women she’d known inside. But the bodies weren’t adults.

They were teenagers. Teenagers whose faces were covered in blood as they reached out to her, screaming their terror and their pain. She wanted to scream, too.

But she didn’t. She kept walking.

Until she saw a face she immediately recognized.

Everett.

He did not reach for her. He did not scream. He lay in the river of blood and did nothing at all. He was dead.

Her son was dead.

She began to scream then, but there was no one to hear. No one to help. She screamed and screamed and—

Naomi. Naomi. Naomi.

“Mom!”

She opened her eyes to find hands on her shoulders, shaking her awake. She stared up into Everett’s face. He stared back, his eyes wide with alarm.

“You’re not dead,” she gasped out.

He was breathing hard, his hands trembling on her shoulders. “No. I’m not.”

She sagged into the chair where she’d fallen asleep. Burke’s duct-taped BarcaLounger. She’d sat down for a short rest and must have been more tired than she’d thought.

The chair smelled like Burke. Like his aftershave. That same scent had soothed her panic attack at the prison the day before. She drew in a deep breath, letting his scent fill her lungs.

Everett let go of her shoulders and straightened, but he continued to stare. He was genuinely shaken. “You were screaming.”

“Bad dream.”

“Must have been. Are you all right now? Do you need anything? Water?”

She smiled weakly. It was the first time he’d been anything but dismissive to her in years. Since her arrest.

His concern? It was everything. “Water would be nice.”

He nodded once and went to the kitchen. She glanced up to see Jace, Elijah, Ruthanne, and James all watching her from the stairs. Molly and Lucien stood behind them. Apparently, they’d followed Everett down when she’d screamed.

Molly stood at the bottom of the stairs, holding them back. She gave Naomi a tight nod. “I couldn’t stop Everett from running downstairs. You gave us a scare.”

“I’m sorry,” she said, embarrassed, but Jace gave her a little smile and a thumbs-up.

He’d said Everett would come around. She prayed he was right.

She drained the glass of water her son brought her. “Thank you.”

He perched on the edge of the closest sofa. “What did you dream?”

She didn’t want to tell him. Didn’t want that image in his head. But she didn’t want to lie, either. “I dreamed of the kids that are trapped in that house. The teenagers that Gaffney and his people are trafficking.”

He swallowed. “That could have been me, huh?”

Her eyes filled with tears. “Over my dead body.”

He winced. “Don’t say that. Please.”

“I won’t let them touch you.”

He hesitated, then sighed. “You went to prison to keep me safe.”

Her throat caught. “I did. I didn’t know where else to turn. What else to do.”

He looked away. “Thank you,” he whispered. “I’m still angry that you did it, but I understand why you did.”

“That’s fair,” she whispered back.

“Gaffney needs to pay for what he did to you and what he’s still doing to those other kids.”

“And we’re going to make that happen. Just you wait and see.”

He looked over his shoulder. Everyone who’d gathered on the stairs had made themselves scarce. “Did they give you a bulletproof vest?”

“They did.”

“Wear it, please.”

“I will.”

He went back upstairs and Naomi slumped into the chair.

Please, God. Let my son love me again.

It was almost too much to hope for, but she did anyway.

—

Gentilly, New Orleans, Louisiana

Wednesday, February 26, 8:25 p.m.

“You shouldn’t be here,” Burke grumbled.

Naomi ignored him, studying the small track where the women’s roller derby was playing their exhibition game. It was fascinating.

Burke didn’t think it was safe for Naomi to leave the house. Naomi had, once again, reminded him that he was as big a target as she was. Bigger, because he was so much taller.

He’d begged Ruthanne to forbid Naomi to go with him.

Naomi’s mother had laughed at him.

So, here they were—Eleanor, Naomi, Val, and Burke walking down a hallway to a meeting room.

Eleanor’s neighbors had already gathered—three married couples. They hugged Eleanor hello. They were clearly close-knit.

Eleanor lifted a hand once everyone was seated. “We should make this short. Burke is nervous that Naomi is not in his house wrapped in bubble wrap.”

Burke scowled at her, too. “You’re not helping, Eleanor.”

“I’m Team Naomi.” Eleanor turned to her neighbors. “I told you all on the phone last night that the Delgados were involved in sex trafficking teenagers. These people here are trying to stop them. So if you can tell them anything, you’ll be doing good.”

An older man cleared his throat. His name was Zachary and he seemed to be the spokesperson for the group.

“None of us wanted the Delgados in our neighborhood. They turned our lives upside down.” He opened the folder he’d placed on the table in front of him.

“These are stills I took from my security cameras. I’m happy to upload the corresponding recordings to your cloud account.

We all brought stills and figured you could tell us if they showed you anything new.

That way you could ask for the footage you wanted. ”

“That’s amazing,” Burke said, spreading the stills across the table so that everyone could see. He pointed to the first photo. “Her name is Elaine Billings. She was arrested this afternoon. She’s a social worker. She drugged kids who no one would miss and held them captive.”

“I hope she burns in hell,” Zachary’s wife spat.

Murmurs of agreement went around the table.

“And this,” Naomi said, pointing to another photo, “is Winnifred Timms. She apparently handled the money. She was murdered last night.”

“Shot in the head,” Eleanor added. “Right in front of Burke and Naomi.”

“Glad she’s gone from this earth,” a woman named Seema said.

“I saw both those women going in and out of the Delgados’ house.

Elaine more than Winnifred. Elaine would be in and out a few times a week.

Winnifred visited maybe once a week or once every two weeks.

We had no idea what was happening in that house.

We would have reported it. And those poor girls who died in the fire along with the Delgados.

” Her eyes filled. “It’s heartbreaking.”

“I know,” Naomi said quietly. “We’re going to do our best to save the others.”

Because who knew what Gaffney, his “boss,” and the assistant with the nice shoes would do to their captives now that she and Burke and the team were closing in? They’d killed their own people with what appeared to be ruthless ease.

She hoped they didn’t find a house filled with more victims. She tried to stay positive and focused, but the nightmare had shaken her.

Blood and bodies everywhere. Teenagers. They were just teenagers.

And Everett had been one of those bodies in the nightmare, his face the only one that was clear. The only one she’d remembered when she’d woken up.

She needed to make sure that the nightmare never came true.

She began sorting the photos, putting all the stills of Elaine and Winnifred into separate piles. The next still was of a young Latina woman, her arms filled with folded clothes as she walked into the Delgados’ house.

“Maya?” she said to Burke. “The woman Susan said took care of them in the house?”

“I’d say yes, but we should ask Susan to take a look at that picture tomorrow.” He sorted a few more stills, then whistled. “This is new.”