Page 69 of Knife in the Back (New Orleans #4)

“First, I don’t expect you to believe everything Molly told you. Not yet. But I have a few questions for you.”

“I don’t have anything to say to you.”

“Wait,” Naomi pleaded before Juliette could hang up. “Did your husband lose his wedding ring six years ago?”

Another moment of silence, this one longer. Naomi clutched Everett’s hand tighter. He lowered his forehead to her shoulder. He was shaking.

Feeling like she was walking a tightrope, Naomi put her arm around him and kissed his temple. She was holding her son. He was letting her.

“It’ll be okay, honey,” she murmured. “Mrs.Marchand? Are you still there?”

“Yes. How did you know Kaleb lost his wedding ring?” The question was accusatory. “Were you having an affair with him, too?”

“No, ma’am,” Naomi said quickly. “I was a cop, working in the evidence room. A ring was brought in one day by a college kid who’d found it at a crime scene.

It was silver filigree with a pattern of tiny fleurs-de-lis.

I think your husband wore it on a chain around his neck.

The chain was somehow broken and the ring ended up in a storm pipe. ”

“He has allergies. His fingers would swell and he was afraid he wouldn’t get the ring off in time.

So he started wearing the ring on a chain.

He takes antihistamines now, so he can wear the ring again.

” She faltered. “He said he lost it at the gym and they found it and gave it back.” Then her defensiveness was back. “Are you saying he lied about that?”

Naomi understood denial. She’d felt it when she’d first learned the truth about Jimmy, so she proceeded carefully.

“I only know that I processed the ring into the system, but it was missing a few days later. I reported it and another ring ended up where the silver filigree ring had been. A day later, the correct ring showed up, and I figured everything had been put right. But it’s not in evidence anymore. ”

André had checked and the ring was gone.

“There are a lot of silver rings,” Juliette said. “It wasn’t my husband’s. You have to be wrong.”

“We have a photo,” Antoine said. “The man who found it sent me the photo he took of the ring. I’ll text it to you now.”

A few seconds later, Juliette gasped. “Oh my God. This isn’t possible.”

“Is that your husband’s ring?” Naomi asked.

“Yes. But that doesn’t mean that Kaleb killed anyone like Molly said he did.”

Naomi hated to do this, but they needed Juliette’s cooperation. “Do you know a man named Wayne Stanley?”

“Yes. He’s one of my husband’s customers.”

“He’s not,” Naomi said. “He’s your husband’s assistant in his illegal enterprises and he’s been identified by three different people as being connected to this case. One of the IDs came from a sixteen-year-old girl who escaped her captors during Super Bowl weekend. She was being sold for sex.”

“No,” Juliette whispered. “That doesn’t mean Kaleb was involved.”

Naomi realized that Everett had stopped shaking. When she turned to look at him, he lifted his gaze to hers. He was interested. Respectful.

Her heart squeezed painfully. It was difficult to contain the joy, sadness, and fear she felt, all at once.

“This young woman identified four people. One was Elaine Billings, who’s currently in custody. One was Wayne Stanley, who’s still at large. The third was murdered Tuesday night. Her name was Winnifred Timms. Can you google her name for me? Find her photo?”

Another gasp. “I know her. She’s my husband’s…”

“The woman he was having an affair with,” Naomi said, keeping her tone gentle. Juliette was brittle. Too much pressure and she’d break.

“Yes,” Juliette whispered. “Oh my God. Is this true? She’s dead?”

“Murdered right in front of us. They shot at us, but we’d hit the floor already.”

“This can’t be happening.”

Naomi hated to hurt this woman. “Juliette, the sixteen-year-old said that Winnifred called him Romeo.” She remembered Burke’s little jolt of surprise, but Romeo wasn’t an uncommon nickname. “Was that your pet name for him? Because you’re Juliette?”

Juliette’s sob was heart-wrenching. “Why are you doing this to me?”

“Because you could be in danger,” Naomi said. “Your husband is not the man you thought him to be. When he realizes he’s cornered, he might come home and try to use you all to escape. Willingly or not.”

Juliette said nothing, her sobs echoing through the phone.

Naomi let her cry for another minute. “Mrs.Marchand, Burke met with your husband this morning and we believe Kaleb drugged him. Patrons at the coffee shop said two men dragged him out because he was drunk. It was only seven in the morning.”

“Burke never drinks too much,” Juliette whispered.

“Which is why we believe he was drugged. Wayne Stanley drugged Val, too. Overdosed her on a fentanyl mixture. She nearly died. Molly found her in time.”

“Oh.” It was a mournful sound. “She’ll be okay?”

“She will. But now I need to ask you for something that I’m not supposed to know about.

Burke was devastated on Monday when Kaleb told him that he was no longer welcome in your lives.

He needed someone to talk to, so he talked to me.

Last night, he was even sadder. You’d told him that you suspected Kaleb of having an affair. That you hired a PI.”

“He told you that?”

“He did. I’m sorry. I wouldn’t have told a soul, but that PI could be important. His report could tell us where Burke is now.”

One last, long silence. “I don’t believe that Kaleb has done any of the things you’re accusing him of,” the woman finally said stubbornly.

“There has to be another explanation. This man, this Wayne Stanley, has to have deceived Kaleb. Kaleb would never hurt Burke or anyone else. But I’ve sent the PI’s report to Antoine.

Burke hasn’t been behaving like himself, either, so maybe he was drunk at seven this morning.

He could be sleeping it off somewhere. Kaleb would watch over him until he was sober. ”

Naomi wanted to argue but she understood. It had been difficult for her to believe the worst about Jimmy for a long time, too. She glanced at Antoine, who held up his phone, nodding.

“I’ve got the report,” he said into the speaker. “Thank you, Juliette.”

“Find Burke. And when you do, tell him that Kaleb was right. His life is filled with too much drama. It’s better if he doesn’t come around anymore.”

The woman ended the call and for a moment, they stood in stunned silence.

“She is in major denial, isn’t she?” Everett said quietly, like he knew what that was like.

“She is.” Naomi laid her head on Everett’s shoulder, her eyes stinging when his arm came around her waist, holding her up. “But she and Burke can hash all that out when we find him.”

—

Uptown, New Orleans, Louisiana

Thursday, February 27, 3:15 p.m.

Burke struggled to sit up, then dropped his face to his knees to wipe the sweat from his eyes. The last time he’d done this maneuver was on a dare with Antoine.

He’d been successful then. He’d be successful today, too.

He rolled to his stomach once again, having looped his Kevlar kite-string bootlaces through the flex-cuffs restraining his hands. At one point, he’d been able to complete this escape in under three minutes.

Today, it had taken him hours. And he wasn’t done.

To be fair, when he’d done it on a dare, he hadn’t been recently roofied. Nor had he been in absolute darkness. He’d been bound with zip ties, not flex-cuffs.

They were harder to break.

Had Kaleb used zip ties, Burke could have broken through already. It was possible to use the body as a wedge to snap the plastic. He’d learned that skill during survival training in the Corps.

But flex-cuffs were stronger. Kaleb had done his research.

Or Wayne Stanley had. The man had been a shitty human being, but he’d been a decent Marine.

Not gonna think about them now. Thinking about Kaleb and Wayne Stanley and Gaffney tensed him up and he needed his body to be relaxed.

He fumbled for the bootlace, now draped around the middle of the flex-cuffs. Kevlar kite string was a handy survival tool. It could cut through wood in a pinch. And, with enough elbow grease, it could cut through plastic flex-cuffs.

He found the end of the bootlace and formed a loop. It would go over the toe of his right boot.

He wasn’t sure how long it took to secure the loop, but he was panting and sweating again by the time he’d done it.

This room had no ventilation. No fresh air.

He blinked to clear the sweat from his eyes.

It didn’t work, but now that he was securing the kite string to his boots, he couldn’t sit up to properly wipe his eyes.

It was just going to have to sting.

One more boot.

He got the other end of the kite string looped over his left boot and stopped to rest. He wondered again what Kaleb used this room for. He wondered if it was where he put people to die.

It was more likely that this was where they put people who had died. He thought of the kids like Susan Snyder. He wondered if they were trapped in this place along with him.

Once he escaped, he’d find out.

Okay, break time’s over. The Kevlar kite string he’d looped through the flex-cuffs would act like a saw once he got his feet moving.

So move, feet.

It was like swimming. Kicking the water. He pumped his legs as fast as he could. The heat generated by the kite string would melt the plastic and—

Yes. The plastic snapped and his hands flopped to his sides.

He lay there for a moment, catching his breath. Then he rolled to his back, staring up into the darkness before finally sitting up. He touched his wrists and his fingers came away sticky. He was bleeding, but he’d had a lot worse.

His hands were free.

It was time to escape this room.

—

The Quarter, New Orleans, Louisiana

Thursday, February 27, 3:55 p.m.

Naomi stood at the whiteboard with Molly and Antoine. They were alone in the study, everyone having dispersed after Naomi’s call with Juliette.