Zach was still sound asleep when his cell phone started ringing. He reached for the nightstand, but all he found was air. Confused, he opened one eye, and that’s when he remembered that he wasn’t home—he was in a hotel with the hottest and most dangerous woman he’d ever met.
He hopped out of bed and dug through a pile of hastily discarded clothes scattered across the hotel-room floor. Finally, he located his pants and pulled the phone from the pocket, managing to answer the call just before it went to voice mail.
“Damn it, Blanchard!” the captain yelled. “What the hell took you so long to answer? It’s eight thirty, and your ass was supposed to be at the station at eight. You got ten minutes to get here before I demote you to dogcatcher.”
Shit! “Uh, that’s not going to be possible…”
“It’s possible from anywhere in New Orleans.”
“I’m not exactly in New Orleans.”
“Well, where the hell are you?”
Zach paused. “Uh…following up on a lead?”
He heard Raissa laugh and covered the speaker part of his phone.
“Did that lead require you to spend the night? Oh, no, do not tell me that your ‘lead’ involves crystal balls.”
“Of course not, sir.” His balls were absolutely not made of crystal. “I’ll be there in forty minutes. I promise.”
He snapped his phone shut and shoved it in his pocket along with his wallet. Then he grabbed his keys off the dresser. “I can’t believe you let me sleep this late.”
“Late? Good Lord, please don’t tell me you’re a morning person.”
He looked over at her lying back in the bed, all rumpled and sexy. “I could probably be persuaded in that direction, but not today. The captain’s in one of his yelling moods. I need to go take some abuse.” He gave Raissa a quick kiss. “I’ll call you as soon as I run Spencer through the database.”
It was forty-two minutes later when Zach pulled up in front of the police station and hurried inside. He’d deal with parking in a tow zone as soon as the captain got done yelling.
“Blanchard!” the captain sounded off before he’d even gotten completely through the doorway. “My office—now!”
Zach saw Detective Morrow smirk as he rushed past his desk, but for once, he didn’t even care. He had far bigger fish to fry. Hell, he had the whole Atlantic Ocean of fish to fry. He hurried into the captain’s office and closed the door behind him.
The captain was pacing the length of his office and Zach almost ran into the man when he entered the office. “We’ve got trouble.”
Zach felt his pulse rise. The captain’s voice was different from when he’d talked to him at the hotel. Something was up. “What kind of trouble?”
“Another missing person.”
Zach felt a rush of blood to his head. “You’re kidding me. That’s not the MO.”
“It’s not another girl. This is an adult male.”
Relief washed over Zach. “Then it’s probably not related.”
“I know. Likely this has nothing to do with the Franco case, but it’s the second goddamned missing person in a week. I’m catching hell all the way around here, Blanchard. I hope that psychic woman was able to give you a lead.”
“Nothing solid yet, but there’s a couple of things I want to look into.”
The captain nodded. “You tell me as soon as you have something. First, I need you to check out this other case. Make sure it has nothing to do with the Francos.”
“I don’t think that’s a good idea. I’d be wasting time when I could be looking into those leads.”
“I know that, but you’re also the only one in contact with the Bordeaux woman. I want you to see the crime scene so you can relay the details to her. Make sure there’s not something in the FBI files that was missed or that we weren’t given. I don’t want that information second-and thirdhand.”
“No problem, sir. I’ll get on it right away.”
He took the sheet of paper with the crime-scene address on it from the captain and hurried through the station and back to his car. At least he hadn’t been there long enough to get towed. He pulled away from the curb, his tires squealing. This was a colossal waste of time. If the captain hadn’t been insistent, he’d have found some way to get out of it. He glanced down at the address and turned right at the red light.
Ten minutes later, he pulled up in front of a construction site. An older man and a woman stood out front with a patrolman. They both looked worried. Zach crossed the lawn, displaying his badge as he approached. “I’m Detective Blanchard. What’s going on here, B and E?”
The patrolman shook his head. “No sign of forced entry, and nothing missing but the cabinetmaker.”
“Maybe he’s sick or didn’t want to do the job any longer.”
“No way,” the older man said. He extended his hand. “I’m Chuck Daigle. I own the construction company building this clinic.” He waved a hand at the worried woman. “This is Lila Comeaux. She’s the owner of the clinic. We both know the man who’s missing, and neither of us thinks this is in character. In fact, we’d swear to it.”
Zach held in a sigh. He’d heard that all too often. “Any signs of a struggle?”
“No,” the patrolman answered, “but there are some irregularities that make me think these two might be right. Let me show you.”
Zach followed the patrolman into the clinic and down the hall, Chuck and Lila trailing behind. They stepped into the last room, and the patrolman pointed to a ladder in the corner of the room. “The guy’s wallet and keys are on top of that ladder. His truck’s out back and hasn’t moved from where it was parked yesterday.”
“There’s more,” Chuck said. “The table saw was still plugged in. There was an open can of stain right there in the middle of the floor with the brush right beside it, and from the way the stain was set on top, it had been open for a while. There’s no way he just left things like that.”
Zach walked around the room, studying the area. Considering it was a construction site, the room was pristine, but then, since he was staining cabinets in this area, it needed to be. He took a look at the cabinets and decided it was probably some of the best workmanship he’d ever seen. Everything about this guy said orderly and dedicated. As much as he hated to admit it, something was wrong with this picture.
“Anyone check where he lives?”
The patrolman nodded. “I sent a guy by there as soon as I saw the scene here. Apartment manager let him in, but the place looks fine. No sign of forced entry and no sign of the guy.”
Zach blew out a breath and lifted the wallet from the ladder. “I’ll take his wallet and keys, run him through the system…see if we can come up with anything. So who is this cabinetmaker?”
“His name is Hank Henry,” Chuck said. “He’s really been doing a fine job here. Something must be wrong.”
Zach froze. Surely, it wasn’t the same Hank that Raissa had mentioned last night. The one that Sonny Hebert’s men were “watching.” He flipped the wallet open and pulled out the driver’s license. It was a lousy picture, like most licenses. He needed to run the guy as soon as possible.
The patrolman nodded his head toward Chuck. “Chuck tells me Hank’s had some trouble in the past but nothing to speak of since being on-site, until yesterday.”
“What happened yesterday?”
“There was a guy,” Chuck said. “Looked like he was hassling Hank.”
“Did you ask about it?” Zach asked.
“Yeah, but the guy said he was asking for directions, then took off. I don’t think it was the truth. The guy…well, I don’t know how to say this without incriminating myself, but he reminded me of some of the ilk I had to deal with when I first got started in construction. You know the type.”
“The type that shake you down for money if you want to stay in business?” Yeah, Zach knew the type, and it was hitting far too close to home.
“Yeah,” Chuck said. “I’m not saying that’s what was going on, but I don’t believe the guy was asking for directions, either.”
“Would you recognize the guy if you saw him again?”
Chuck nodded. “I’m pretty sure I would.”
“Good. I’ll send someone over with some pictures…see if you can help us with another angle to investigate. Will you be here all day?”
“Until five or so.” He reached into his pocket and handed Zach a card. “Give me a call. If I’m not here, I can meet anywhere to look at the pictures. Doesn’t matter what time.”
“Great,” Zach said, and slipped the card into his pocket. “If there’s nothing else I need to see here, I’m going to head back to the station and get working on this.” He pulled his cards from his pocket and handed Chuck and Lila each one. “If there’s anything you can think of that you forgot to tell me, please call me anytime.”
As soon as Zach got into his car, he reached for his laptop and connected with the police database. He typed in Hank’s information and waited while the system searched. A couple of seconds later, a clear picture of Hank Henry appeared on the screen. Shit.
He stared at the screen, hoping his initial reaction had been incorrect, but even with a closer look, he knew he wasn’t. This was the guy he’d seen going into Raissa’s apartment that night. The one she’d met in the alley. He’d completely forgotten about it, with everything else going on. And then it hit him where he’d seen the name before—in the police records on Maryse’s many adventures.
Hank Henry was Maryse’s ex-husband, son of a murdered ghost.
Knew him secondhand, my ass. Raissa Bordeaux had a lot of explaining to do.