Page 7 of Knife in the Back (New Orleans #4)

Kenner, Louisiana

“Hey,” Sylvi said, sticking her head into the flower shop’s workroom, her expression tense. “A car just pulled into the parking lot. This may be the package we’re waiting for.”

Having been on tenterhooks all morning, Naomi accidentally decapitated the roses she’d been prepping. “Shit,” she muttered, then looked to her new bodyguard. “Broussard said to call him when the package was delivered.”

Val Sorensen looked up from the camera feed on her phone, her smile calm. “The camera at the front door is showing two of my colleagues—Molly Sutton and Lucien Farrow. Didn’t recognize them at first. They’re both disguised.”

Everett. “Is it about Everett?”

“Burke would have called if it were,” Val assured her.

The bell over the front door jingled and Sylvi hurried to the counter, leaving the door open so that Naomi and Val could hear what was happening.

“Ooh, honey, look!” The woman had a twangy drawl. “Can we have roses at our wedding?”

Val snickered. “That’s Molly.”

“You know my mother is allergic to roses, pet,” a man said.

Val’s lips twitched. “And that’s Lucien. They’re pretending to be an engaged couple so no one wonders why they’ve come in.”

“That’s why I want roses,” the woman said sweetly. “If your mother is sneezing, she can’t say awful things to me.”

Val chuckled. “Molly isn’t normally the dramatic one. That’s usually me.”

Naomi tried to relax. Val was right. Surely Broussard would have called directly if something was wrong with Everett.

“Welcome,” Sylvi said, playing along. “Let me flip the sign to closed and we’ll go back to my office and talk about your special day.”

Sylvi and the two PIs entered the workroom and Val smirked.

“Wow,” Val said to the woman with long black hair hanging halfway down her back and a wide-brimmed hat that hid her face. But her hair wasn’t what drew the eye. No, that would be the woman’s breasts about to pop right out of her very low-cut dress. “You’re bustin’ loose, girl.”

Molly glanced around the room, then mouthed, “Are we secure?”

Val nodded. “I did a sweep for cameras and listening devices when I got here and I’ve been running an audio jammer the whole time, just in case anyone’s sitting outside with a mic. And no one who might be watching would recognize you, anyway, because no one would be looking at your face.”

“That was the point.” The woman smiled at Naomi. “Miss Cranston, I’m Molly Sutton. I work for Burke Broussard. This is our colleague, Lucien Farrow. I hope we didn’t frighten you.”

“Everett,” Naomi whispered. “Is he all right?”

“We don’t know,” Lucien said brusquely, and Naomi’s panic took flight, her heart banging against her rib cage.

Oh no. No, no, please no.

“They got him?” Naomi gasped out.

“No, Everett is fine.” Molly gave Lucien a puzzled look before returning her attention to Naomi.

“What he means is that Everett’s not the reason we’re here.

Burke has assigned our colleague Harrison Banks to watch him.

He’s parked outside Everett’s school. How close he can get to guard your son will depend on Burke’s meeting with your ex-husband, which should be happening very soon.

Burke’s sitting in your husband’s lobby, waiting to be called in. ”

Naomi sank to one of the stools at the worktable, her lungs struggling to take in enough air. Everett was all right. For now. “Thank you.”

Molly’s smile was warm. “You’re welcome.”

When she could breathe again, Naomi studied the pair. Molly Sutton appeared calm, but the man—Lucien Farrow—was regarding her with subtle hostility.

Naomi couldn’t let that stand. These people were supposed to be helping her. They were supposed to be protecting Everett.

“You want me to know that you don’t trust me, don’t you?” she asked him.

He blinked. “What? No. Of course not.”

“Sir, after five years in prison, I can spot hostility when I see it, even if you’re trying to hide it. Heck, after one week I was able to spot it.”

Too bad that skill had come too late. Her scars were testament to that.

Molly glanced at Lucien before sliding onto a stool at the worktable. “We just wanted to talk with you before we got started on your case.”

Naomi believed Molly, at least. “Okay, ask me your questions. I will answer to the best of my ability.”

“Why do you think you went to prison?” Lucien asked, still brusque.

“Right to the point,” Naomi murmured. She met the man’s eyes, refusing to quail at the anger she saw there. “I was framed and then threatened by an NOPD detective, who said if I didn’t allow myself to be convicted that they’d hurt my son.”

“Detective Gaffney,” Molly said.

“Yes, Miss Sutton.”

“Call me Molly. What exactly did he say to you and where and when did he say it?”

“He came to my mother’s house. I’d been released on bail and I was staying with her. Gaffney showed up with photos of Everett. He knew where he’d be and who he’d be with. His exact words were ‘Cooperate and he stays healthy. Fight these charges, and we’ll send him to you in pieces.’?”

Sylvi shuddered out a breath. “Naomi.”

“I’m okay, Sylvi. As long as Mr.Broussard protects him, I’ll be okay.”

“What did your attorney say when you told him?” Lucien asked, reclaiming her attention. His eyes were cold.

“I didn’t tell him.”

“Why not?” Lucien asked.

At least his voice was asking. His eyes were demanding.

“I didn’t know who to trust at that point. This was my son’s life. I wasn’t taking chances.”

“So your attorney knew nothing about this plot?”

There was something in the way the man said “plot.”

“Are you saying I’m lying, Mr.Farrow?”

“Of course not,” he said smoothly. “I’m just saying you can’t blame your incarceration on your lawyer if he didn’t have all the details.”

“I almost did tell him,” she responded. “But then he said he’d reconsidered my trial strategy. I shouldn’t testify in my own defense. There was something in the way that he said it. He just blurted it out and he wouldn’t meet my eyes. He was scared. Then so was I. I knew they’d gotten to him.”

Lucien’s eyes flashed in anger. “You’ve assumed quite a lot, Miss Cranston.” He leaned against the worktable, his pose misleadingly unbothered. “Why didn’t you take the plea bargain if you were intent on going to prison?”

She glared at him. “Because I was never offered a plea bargain.”

Something gleamed in his eyes. “Yes, ma’am, you were.” Satisfaction at catching her in a lie? Except he hadn’t, because she was telling the truth.

She sat up straighter. “And I’m telling you that I wasn’t.

If they’d offered me one, I’m not sure I would have taken it, because that meant I was admitting to being guilty and I could never bring myself to do that.

But if I had, I probably could have gotten a much shorter sentence.

And if I’d taken a plea, Gaffney would have been satisfied that I’d done what he said and Everett would have been safe a lot earlier.

But it’s moot because there was no offer . ”

Lucien took a piece of paper from his jacket pocket and slid it across the table.

Naomi picked it up, frowning at the words on the page, which didn’t make any sense.

They were printed on the letterhead of the District Attorney’s Office of Orleans Parish.

A summary of her case. Five words had been highlighted in bright yellow.

Defendant declined a plea deal.

She read the words again and they made no more sense the second time. Plea deal? What plea deal?

The deal would have reduced her sentence from thirty years to ten, with time off for good behavior. All she would have needed to do was tell them who she’d planned to sell the cocaine to.

She looked up, bewildered. “I’ve never seen this document before.”

“It has your signature on it,” Lucien said, his mouth a flat line.

She shook her head. “That’s not my signature. I don’t know whose it is.” She tossed the page back at him. “Believe me or don’t, but I did not know I’d been offered a deal.”

He started to take the page back, but Val snapped it up and read it quickly.

“Naomi, this is important,” she said quietly. “Did your new attorney know about this?”

“If she did, I never heard about it. I can call and ask her.”

“Do that,” Lucien said. “I’ll wait.”

Val scowled at him. “What the fuck, Lucien? She’s the client, not a suspect.”

“I’m protecting Burke. What if she’s lying, Val? What if she wants us to protect her son for another reason? What if she’s working for Gaffney?”

“I’d die first,” Naomi whispered.

Sylvi blanched. “Naomi.” She turned to Lucien. “She was considering it, you asshole. She was thinking of killing herself when I found her on Friday. If you push her into self-harm, there will be nowhere you can hide from me.”

“Whoa.” Molly lifted her hands. “Everyone calm down. Lucien, you clearly have information the rest of us don’t have. What is it?”

“I know Mason Lord. He wouldn’t shaft a client like that. He’s honest.”

Naomi sighed. Mason Lord had seemed honest at first. And then he’d seemed scared. “Does he have a family, Mr.Farrow? Children?”

Lucien frowned, uncertainty flickering in his eyes for the first time since he’d walked through the door. “Yes.”

“Then how do you know that Gaffney didn’t threaten them?” she asked. “Like he threatened my son?”

Lucien opened his mouth, clearly ready to defend his attorney friend. Then he frowned. “It’s unlikely, but I suppose it’s possible.”

“A possibility we will check out,” Molly said crisply. “Is this why we’re here, Lucien? So you could judge our client’s veracity?”

“Yes,” Lucien said evenly. “That’s exactly why. If she’s lying, we need to know. Burke’s not just looking to protect her, and you know it as well as I do. He wants to clear her name.”

Molly nodded slowly. “He does.”

Lucien folded his arms across his chest. “So his reputation may depend on this.”

“Burke can take care of his own reputation,” Val said. “But since you’re so worried about it, I think he needs to go with you when you talk to this guy. Just to be sure.”