Dropping to the ground, I grab Dolores’s arm and run to the Judas gate to our right. With shaking fingers she punches in the code, and then we run into the alley where Serenity waits. Tee makes a point to keep us away from the trapped biker, but as we pass I see him yank his leg clear of the Harley.
As Dolores and I run down the fence-lined alley toward a proper street, I hear the pop-pop-pop of a semiautomatic pistol. My heart stutters, and I pull Dolores to a halt. She doesn’t want to stop, so I hold her in place with one hand and aim my pistol back toward the way we came with my other.
The seconds between that moment and seeing Serenity come tearing down the alley are some of the scariest of my life. But ten seconds after Tee reaches us, we emerge on Soniat Street, look both ways, then race south to Baronne. When we reach the corner, we veer right on Robert Street and sprint south again, to the broad thoroughfare of St. Charles Avenue.
“Call a cab,” Serenity snaps, pulling Dolores into a shadowy doorway. “Won’t be any cruising down here. If you don’t get one in two minutes, we’ll jump the next streetcar.”
“No streetcars,” I say breathlessly. “All the lines are still down. Did you shoot that guy?”
The whites of her eyes flash in the dark. “I just scared him. Let’s move, or there’ll be more shooting to come.”
In the end, we took a cab.
We had to hide awhile waiting for it to arrive, but forty minutes later we were airborne again, flying north toward Natchez. I sat up front with Danny McDavitt, while Tee sat in back with Dolores. I called ahead and told Tim to have at least three men and the Yukon waiting at the Natchez landing strip. I wasn’t sure how the VK had traced us to Dolores’s house, and I didn’t want to take any chances. I very much wanted to call John Kaiser and tell him who we had with us, but something told me that if I did, Dolores would deny everything she’d told us.
I thought that once the lights of the city had vanished beneath us, Dolores might calm down, but she didn’t. She was certain that the only way the VK could have found us was by torturing it out of Mrs. Booker in Athens Point. I finally eased her mind by persuading Danny to fly low over Doloroso, where I knew a cell tower stood on the high hill there. Dolores called her mother-in-law, and she nearly collapsed when Mrs. Booker told her she was fine and had received no visits from anyone.
“They couldn’t have followed this airplane down to New Orleans,” I told Tee quietly. “They must have found out we visited Mrs. Booker and traced her calls to Dolores afterwards.”
When Dolores finally leaned against the cabin wall and closed her eyes, I discovered I’d received a text from Drew Elliott. It read: 99% sure now Peggy did not have a stroke. Likely complex migraine. We got lucky, Penn. Keeping her 24 hours for observation, abundance of caution. She doesn’t want Tom knowing anything about it. Talk to you soon.
I sighed heavily, closed my eyes, and settled lower in my seat.
Ten minutes later, Danny landed us on the same grass strip from which we had taken off four and a half hours earlier. Tim and his team stood waiting beside the armored Yukon, and they took great care to be sure that Dolores felt safe during the transfer to the vehicle.
Once we reached my house, I showed Dolores to the last upstairs guest room. I offered to move her to my mother’s room, which was now empty, but Dolores wouldn’t hear of it. I offered her food, but this she declined also. She did accept some green tea, and then she asked if I might have any Xanax or Valium. I pilfered a couple from my mother’s stash, gave them to Dolores, then left the poor woman alone with her nerves.
Downstairs, Annie and Mia insisted on hearing a blow-by-blow account of our trip. They were munching on hot popcorn, and Serenity was gobbling it down faster than either of them. I edited out the worst of Dolores’s traumatic memories, but they could tell that Serenity and I had both been rattled by our experience. While Tee gave them an almost comedic version of our escape from the Garden District, I called Carl Sims and asked if he could check on Cleotha Booker for us. When I described the situation, Carl told me he’d feel better parking his cruiser in front of her house for the night. I thanked him, then pointed upstairs and held out my sweaty shirt to let the girls know I’d be taking a shower. Serenity kept talking, but a split second before I passed through the door, she looked over Annie’s head and gave me an almost imperceptible nod. Annie was laughing out loud as I climbed the stairs, and I said a silent thank-you to Tee for shielding her from the reality of our New Orleans experience.
As the steaming water washes away the sweat of our trip to the hurricane-ravaged city, I think again about calling John Kaiser. But doing that at this juncture would risk destroying Dolores’s faith in me, and that I cannot do. Now that she’s been reassured that Mrs. Booker is okay, Serenity and I will have time to work on her. The only problem is that Dad’s trial proper begins tomorrow.
As I rinse the shampoo from my hair, I see Serenity once more, sashaying into that alley like a strung-out prostitute and kicking over the VK biker’s Harley. From the safety of my bathroom it seems funny as hell, and I laugh aloud. After the water begins to cool, I get out and quickly dry off, then pull on some warm-ups and a T-shirt. I’m about to head down to check on the girls when a soft knock sounds at my door.
“Yeah? Mia? Annie?”
The door opens, and Serenity steps into my room.
“Cool to talk in here?” she asks.
“Sure. Are Mia and Annie okay?”
Tee shuts the door behind her. “I told them I needed a shower, too.”
Which means Annie could knock on my door at any time. “How do you feel about Dolores’s condition?” I ask.
“She’s scared to death. I think I’d better stay here with her tomorrow. During the trial, I mean. Otherwise she might bolt.”
“Agreed.”
Serenity sits on the chair beside my dresser. Then she drops her head between her knees, sighs heavily, and rubs her scalp hard. After twenty seconds of this, she straightens up, shakes out her hair, then smiles strangely.
“That was wild, wasn’t it?” she says.
I laugh once more. “I don’t think that biker will ever forget you.”
“I’m just glad I didn’t have to shoot him!”
This time we both laugh, knowing beneath the laughter that we were damned lucky to get out of New Orleans without getting hurt—or worse.
“You think she’ll talk to the FBI?” Serenity asks, all seriousness again.
“Maybe. The problem—from my point of view—is that while Dolores can almost certainly put Snake Knox on death row, she can’t do anything to help my father get acquitted for murdering Viola.”
“I was thinking about that during the flight back.” Serenity stands and walks toward me. “Penn, all you can do is what you can do. You know? I had to learn that in the army. It’s a tough lesson. And hey, putting Snake Knox on death row is more than the FBI ever managed to do.”
“I know. But . . .”
She gives me a chiding look. “I want you to kiss me,” she says quietly.
The heat in her eyes stuns me more than her words. “You do?”
“Don’t you know that?”