Page 68 of Knife in the Back (New Orleans #4)

The Quarter, New Orleans, Louisiana

Naomi wanted to scream in frustration.

They’d been gathered in Burke’s study for hours, looking at maps and checking properties owned by the companies who’d paid Winnifred Timms’s expenses and who’d paid off Jimmy’s mortgage.

Well, it was mostly Antoine and Molly doing the work while Naomi, Eleanor, Ruthanne, and James watched in tense silence. Naomi felt useless. Helpless.

Hopeless.

Because other than the condo that had been destroyed by fire, the companies appeared to own no property. They were no closer to finding Burke.

André had been unable to get search warrants for Kaleb’s home and office. Naomi’s recognition of both Kaleb and the ring in the photo hadn’t been nearly enough for the judge.

His coffee shop alibi checks out. And weren’t Kaleb’s own sons targeted? the judge had asked. Surely he didn’t try to abduct his own children.

The abductions had to have been faked, at least the attempted abduction of Braden and Trent Marchand.

Faking the abduction of his own children had been brilliant, Naomi had to concede.

It had put Burke on the defensive, had made him second-guess himself and his career choices.

And, perhaps worst of all, his own integrity and loyalty.

Still, Burke had managed to investigate the case so thoroughly that he’d made himself a target.

Molly had taken it upon herself to search Marchand’s office and the factory. She’d called up all of Burke’s part-timers and, using the keys they’d found in Burke’s bureau drawer, they’d searched the factory top to bottom.

But there was no sign of Burke or of any teenagers being forced into sexual slavery. The searches were a total bust.

There were two silver linings to the dark cloud that hung over them.

Everett, in a move that had surprised everyone, had taken charge of the other kids, choosing the movies and making snacks that Elijah could eat.

And Val’s prognosis was good. She’d been alert enough to tell Molly that she’d been standing outside the coffee shop, waiting for Burke as he met with Kaleb.

She’d chosen a secure location—directly in front of a locked gate that closed off the alley between the coffee shop and the souvenir store.

The gates were common all over town. Without them, locals and tourists alike would use the alleys as shortcuts, places to deal drugs.

Places to pee. So the property owners kept the gates locked.

But the gunman had opened the gate behind her, shoved a gun into her neck, and pulled her through, growling that if she went for her weapon, he’d shoot. She was wearing Kevlar, but it didn’t cover her neck.

He’d pushed her into the souvenir shop, where he injected her. Before she passed out, she noticed the man’s shoes.

It always came back to the man with the shoes.

“We need to ID the man with the shoes,” Naomi said abruptly, interrupting Molly and Antoine, who were staring at one of the whiteboards.

Antoine continued studying the map. “I did. His name is Wayne Stanley. The shoe store clicked on the phishing link I sent to their email, so I was able to access their sales records. I got a list of their customers, and Molly recognized Stanley’s name.

He’s the same general size as one of the fedora-wearing guys entering the Delgados’ house. ”

“I knew Stanley,” Molly said, also staring at the map. “He served under Burke in the Corps. Killed a man and was dishonorably discharged. He hated Burke. Blamed him for turning him over to the MPs. Like Burke had a choice.”

Naomi had to bite back her anger. “Why didn’t you tell me about Stanley?”

Antoine faced her then, his expression a mix of frustration and fear. “Because there’s nothing on him. He owns no property, has filed no taxes, has no income. He has no current address, no car, no driver’s license. He’s a ghost. I dug into him and I got nowhere.”

“This isn’t getting us anywhere, either,” Naomi said, gesturing to the whiteboard. “It’s been eight hours.”

Molly turned and Naomi couldn’t hide her wince. Molly’s face was dangerously pale. Her eyes were dull. Her hands trembled. “I know exactly how long it’s been, Naomi,” she said quietly. “Down to the second. But I don’t know what to do next.”

Not knowing was probably one of Molly’s greatest fears. The woman was calm efficiency personified. Burke’s people were running scared.

So am I.

“Come, sit down,” she said to Antoine and Molly. “Let’s go over what we do know.”

“I have,” Molly said, her voice strained. “Over and over. It’s no good.”

Molly was on the verge of spiraling. Naomi knew what that felt like. She asked herself what Burke would do, were he there.

He’d take charge.

“Molly, sit down,” she said firmly, using her mom voice.

Blinking, Molly obeyed. Antoine sat next to her. Both looked wrung out.

“Thank you,” Naomi said. “We will find him.” They had to. “Tell me what else you know about Wayne Stanley. What was his skill set?”

“He was a demolition expert,” Antoine said. “He trained with the firefighters, but he didn’t make the final cut.”

“So the fires in Eleanor’s neighborhood and the condo make sense,” Naomi said.

“They do,” Molly said. “But they bring us no closer to finding Burke.”

“But we will know what we’re up against when we do find him,” Naomi said.

Molly nodded. “Okay. What do you think we should do?”

It wasn’t said with any sarcasm. Only exhausted defeat.

“Let’s go over Kaleb again. What do we know?”

“He’s forty-two,” Molly said. “He’s been married to Juliette for twenty years. They have two sons, Braden and Trent. He started working for the Fontenot company at age eighteen, working his way through college. After college, he was hired into an entry-level manager position.”

Naomi considered the dates. “He told Burke that he resented him for going into the military, then becoming a cop. Burke would have still been in the Marine Corps when Kaleb graduated and started at the company.”

Molly and Antoine stared at her.

“How do you know that?” Molly asked.

“Burke told me.” Naomi felt her cheeks heat. “We’d meet in the living room and we’d talk.”

“And canoodle,” Eleanor added in a singsong, trying to lighten the mood. “I saw it with my own eyes.”

“So did I,” James said. “I was coming downstairs for some water and turned myself right around. There was a lot of canoodling.”

Molly almost smiled. Antoine looked slightly less tense for a heartbeat.

“There was some canoodling,” Naomi allowed.

At least in the living room. What she and Burke had done in his bedroom was private.

And she would have that again because they would find him.

“But mostly talking. Kaleb called him right after his sons were fake-abducted. Gave Burke a lot of bullshit about him not caring about his family, about him taking risks and putting Kaleb’s kids in danger.

Told Burke that he didn’t want him to see the boys anymore. That he was too dangerous.”

“Oh, wow.” Molly scowled. “What a gaslighting asshole.”

“It worked,” Antoine said glumly. “We’ve been holed up here for days, not out looking for Kaleb’s sorry ass.”

“Now we are looking for Kaleb’s sorry ass,” Naomi said. “What else do we know, other than he was cheating on Juliette with Winnifred Timms?”

“That still shocks me,” Molly confessed.

“It shocked Burke, too,” Naomi murmured. “He didn’t know it was with Winnifred, though. Juliette had only told him that Kaleb was cheating.”

“How did she know about the cheating?” Molly asked. “When I called her to tell her about Burke being missing, she said that she knew Kaleb had cheated, but she wouldn’t believe he’d done all the other stuff—not the trafficking or the murders. She said we’d lost our minds.”

Naomi had been too numb to even think about talking to Kaleb’s wife. Molly had taken it upon herself to contact Juliette, both to warn her that Kaleb was dangerous and hoping that the woman would know where Burke was being held, but they’d only gotten her forceful denial of Kaleb’s involvement.

“She hired…” Naomi stopped, the words bouncing around in her mind. “A PI. She hired a PI. I can’t believe I didn’t think of this. What if the PI followed Kaleb to the house he’s using to traffic those kids? What if that’s where he took Burke?”

Molly seemed suddenly energized. “That’s a lot of ifs, but let’s go with it for now. We need that PI’s report. Someone else needs to ask. I don’t think she’ll talk to me again.”

“Let me try.” Naomi took out her own phone. “Give me her number.”

Naomi dialed, then held her breath. The call was answered on the first ring and Naomi put it on speaker.

“Kaleb?” Juliette sounded like she was crying.

“No,” Naomi said quietly. “My name is Naomi Cranston.”

“You.” It was said with contempt. “You’re the one who started all this. You’re the one who got Burke all tangled up in your business. This is all your fault.”

“No, it’s not!” Everett shouted from the doorway.

Naomi turned to her son, shocked. “Everett?”

Everett’s face was red, his fists clenched at his sides.

“She says it’s your fault, but it’s not.

Those men threatened you. They put you in prison for five fucking years.

They framed you. Her husband framed you.

And he tried to kill you twice this week.

Lady, you can’t talk to her that way. It’s not her fault. ”

Naomi reached out a hand to her son, barely able to swallow the sob of relief that rose when he took it. “Thank you, Everett.”

“I’m sorry. I should have believed you.” He pointed to the phone. “She should believe you.”

“But you have the facts now,” Naomi said gently. “She doesn’t. Not yet. Mrs.Marchand, I apologize. My son is defending me, but there is some truth in your words. I came to Burke for help. My son was being threatened. His was the first attempted abduction on Monday.”

A beat of silence. “I’m glad he’s okay,” Juliette said stiffly. “What do you want?”