Page 71 of Knife in the Back (New Orleans #4)

Uptown, New Orleans, Louisiana

Kaleb wanted to snarl. Juliette had called five times in the last forty-five minutes and he did not have time to talk to her.

Things were not going smoothly with his new partner. Ortiz was unimpressed with the way Kaleb had been running the business.

Join the club. If this weekend didn’t go well, Fontenot’s board of directors would vote to remove him.

They were too deeply in debt, because Kaleb had embezzled too much money.

He’d had losing streaks at the gaming tables in the past, but never like this.

He needed every penny of this week’s projected income to prop up his legit business or face ouster.

His other concern was even bigger. Wayne Stanley still had not returned, nor had he answered Kaleb’s texts. How long did it take to dump two bodies?

Something was wrong.

His phone buzzed again.

Ortiz lifted a brow. “Someone really wants to talk to you.”

Juliette. Again. “I’ll take this in the hallway.” He shut the door behind him. “What?” he snapped when he’d hit accept.

“Kaleb.” Juliette was crying.

“What’s wrong? Is it the boys? Did someone else try to steal them?”

No one would, of course. No one had actually tried kidnapping them to begin with.

“No. It’s…it’s Burke. He’s missing. He was supposed to be meeting with you.”

“We had an appointment, but Burke never showed up,” he lied. “I waited for over an hour.”

“His people called me. They said he’d been seen in a coffee shop and was dragged out, drunk. I thought maybe you’d taken him somewhere to let him sober up.”

The first part was exactly the plan, to have Burke appear to have been drunk. But not the second part. Kaleb was not supposed to have been connected with him. “I never saw him, Jules. I don’t know where he is.”

“His people…they…” She made a wounded noise. “They told me some things.”

Kaleb’s blood ran cold. “What kind of things?”

“That you were involved in…things. Terrible things, Kaleb.”

“Such as?” he asked, trying to sound confused and not scared as fuck.

“Trafficking. Kids. Teenagers.”

Kaleb’s knees went weak. How? How did they know?

I should have killed Burke years ago.

“They’re delusional,” he managed.

“I know.”

But she didn’t sound sure. Dammit. “Do you? I cheated, yes, but that you could believe I did…those things? Maybe our marriage is past saving.”

“No!” she cried. “I don’t believe them. And…but…” She cried harder. “I did something terrible.”

“What?” This wasn’t going to be good.

“I hired a PI. Not Burke. I wouldn’t do that to you. But I needed to know if you were cheating. So I hired a PI to follow you.”

Oh my God. “And what did he find?”

“Just that you were cheating with that woman. The one who died this week. You never told me she was dead.”

“I didn’t know,” he lied again, his heart pounding. “Freddie is dead?”

“That woman says so. Naomi. She knew about your ring, Kaleb. She knew that you’d lost it.”

Kaleb closed his eyes. “What have you done, Juliette?”

“I gave them the PI’s report. I thought that if you had Burke with you, if you were helping him get sober…”

“I see.” And he did.

He could see that everything was lost. He had to get out of here. Had to destroy the evidence.

“I told them to tell Burke not to come around anymore, once they found him. You were right, Kaleb. We don’t need his drama.”

“Okay,” he said numbly. “When was this?”

“Forty-five minutes ago. I’ve been trying to reach you. To tell you that Burke’s people are trying to set you up.”

It was still only circumstantial evidence. Once he destroyed this place, he could hire a decent lawyer. He could get away with it. The only people who knew the truth about Burke were Stanley, Burke’s bodyguard, and Burke himself.

“Kaleb?” Juliette asked tearfully when he said nothing. “Are you still there?”

“Yes. I’ll be home soon. Did they say anything else I should know about?”

“Just that they thought Burke had been drugged like his bodyguard. Val Sorensen.”

Oh no. No, no, no. “Val was drugged?”

Val was dead. Her body was in the bayou. Stanley had said so.

“They said that she almost died. She’s in the hospital.”

Stanley had lied. Why? Why would he lie?

To buy time , Kaleb realized. Stanley knew they were fucked and he’d saved himself.

Kaleb had to fight to breathe. Stanley hadn’t killed Val. He hadn’t picked up her body and taken it to the bayou.

And now everyone would know. Everyone did know.

I have to get out of here.

“I need to go. I’ll see you soon.”

He left Ortiz in the office. He needed to get rid of this place. Ortiz could figure it out on his own. He would soon enough.

The smoke would be Ortiz’s first clue.

He ran to the back, to where the trucks docked. To where they kept supplies.

He grabbed a box of flex-cuffs and a full can of gasoline and ran up the stairs. “Maya!”

Maya emerged from one of the rooms, closing the door and locking it with her key. “Yes, boss?”

“Get everyone into one of the trucks.” He thrust the box of flex-cuffs into her hands. “Use these. Do it now.”

Maya’s eyes widened. “We’re made?”

“Just do what I said!” Kaleb snapped, then began dousing the floor with gasoline.

Seemed like he’d be the one killing Burke, after all.

—

Uptown, New Orleans, Louisiana

Thursday, February 27, 4:50 p.m.

Naomi slowed her pedaling as she approached the warehouse. The muscles in her legs were screaming, but she ignored the pain.

If she could find Burke or those kids, it would be worth it.

There were no crowds down this way. They were all gathered a few blocks north, waiting for the parade to begin. There was music, though. She could hear the marching bands warming up.

She pushed the bicycle the last hundred yards, hoping to see André, but there was no sign of him.

The warehouse seemed nearly deserted, but there was some activity in one of the loading bays on the right side of the building.

A truck was backed up to an open bay and there was someone standing to one side of the truck holding a clipboard.

It looked just like a warehouse should.

She pushed Burke’s bike to the rear of the building and gently leaned it against the wall. There was no activity here, either.

Maybe I was wrong. She’d expected to see perverted customers entering and exiting via the river, but it was just a warehouse.

Hopefully Antoine and Molly are having better luck at the houses.

And then she heard a scream. Leaving the bicycle, Naomi ran along the far side of the warehouse, halting abruptly when she got to the front right corner of the building, nearest the open bay. She eased forward, her hand on the Glock in her pocket as she tried to see what was happening.

If there were cameras, they’d probably already seen her, but she couldn’t make herself back away.

She stood, transfixed in horror, as a large man dragged a teenage boy from the street in front of the warehouse toward the open bay.

The man lifted his arm and the gun in his hand glinted in the light from a streetlamp before he brought the butt down hard on the kid’s head, making him stumble.

He shoved the young man, who looked to be Everett’s age, up onto the raised loading platform. “Cuff him,” he growled.

The person with the clipboard came forward. Naomi recognized her from the photos provided by Eleanor’s neighbors. This was Maya.

Maya yanked the young man to his feet. Holding a handful of flex-cuffs, she dragged the kid to the truck and shoved him in.

Naomi couldn’t hear what Maya was saying, so she edged closer.

“Anyone else want to try to run?” Maya snarled.

Anyone else? The kids they’d been searching for.

The large man with the gun heaved himself up on the raised loading platform and disappeared into the truck.

Whatever he was saying to the occupants was too low for Naomi to hear. Then the doors to the truck were slammed shut.

For a moment, Naomi held her breath. If they came this way, if they saw her, she’d be dead.

But they didn’t approach. Instead, an inside door slammed shut.

Hands surprisingly steady, Naomi pulled out her phone and dialed André Holmes. “Where are you?” she hissed.

“Almost to the address you gave me. Where the hell are you?”

“At the address I gave you. The kids are here. In a truck. Two people were with them. One man, one woman. One has a gun, not sure about the other.”

“Goddammit, Naomi,” André said in a low growl. “You were supposed to stay at Burke’s house.”

She wasn’t going to argue. “Hurry,” Naomi urged. And then she smelled the smoke. Oh no. Oh shit. “They’ve set this place on fire.”

Burke. He was inside, she was certain of it.

“Get back,” André commanded. “I’m only a few minutes out.”

“Drive faster.” She ended the call, having already decided what she needed to do. Those two could come back any moment. They’d drive that truck away and take the kids with them.

Burke would have to hold on a few moments more. He’d want the kids freed first. She was certain of that, too.

Taking a running leap, she hit the raised platform on her ass. She spun and was on her feet in seconds.

They’d slid a padlock into the latch on the truck’s doors, but they hadn’t closed the lock. She pulled it out and opened one of the doors.

Ten teenagers huddled inside. Half quietly cried. All wore flex-cuffs, cuffed together in pairs.

Naomi’s heart broke. “Come with me. I’m here to help you.”

They looked at each other fearfully, and then one girl stood, pulling another girl with her. “You heard her. Let’s go.”

The girl dragged her cuff-mate through the truck’s door and motioned for the others to follow.

One of the other girls faced Naomi straight on, blocking the path of the remaining kids. “Who are you?”

“My name is Naomi. I’ve been looking for the men who’ve been using you. I’ve spoken to Susan,” she added, when the girl didn’t look convinced.

The girl jolted in shock before she gulped on a sob. “She’s alive?”

“Yes. Now, hurry, before they come back.”