Chapter 3
Eyes gritty, Adalyn leaned back in her Jeep as the garage shut behind her. The flight home had been uneventful and she was beyond exhausted, but she could never seem to turn her brain off.
To stop the memories. The images that came out to play when she least wanted them to. When she was alone and desperately needed sleep.
Because despite what she’d said to Skye, she hadn’t slept a wink on that flight. On a private jet so lush and comfortable she should have been snoozing like a baby. But her dumb brain wouldn’t let her.
When her phone buzzed in her bag, she frowned. It was four in the morning.
After fishing it out, her heart rate kicked up to see her sister’s name. And she was an hour behind so it was even earlier in New Orleans. “Fleur, hey.”
“Addy.” Her sister’s voice broke on that one word.
Exhaustion bled away as a shot of adrenaline surged through her. “Are you okay? Are you physically hurt?”
“No and no,” she rasped out. “Oh god, I was keeping it together, but then I heard your voice. It’s…Clara,” she sobbed out.
Clara, her sister’s roommate and best friend. They even looked alike in a way she and Fleur didn’t, two petite brunettes who were often mistaken for sisters. “What happened?”
“She…oh god, I can’t say it. She was…murdered.” Her voice broke again and now the sobs started.
Adalyn opened the garage door and pulled right back out. She was either going to drive to New Orleans or fly. “I’m so sorry,” Adalyn said a few moments later when her sister sucked in a breath. “Can you talk about what happened?”
“She was…” Another sniffle, but her voice was stronger, steadier.
And as Adalyn pulled to a stop at a red light, she texted Brooks. Can I use the jet tonight? Family emergency, need to go to New Orleans ASAP. I can fly myself. Don’t need to bother the pilot. She was beyond exhausted and should probably snag a few hours of downtime but screw that.
Of course and no, you need sleep. Jonathan is still on call. He’ll just head back and fly you after registering the flight. Just call or text him if anything comes up. Do you need anything?
Thank you and no. I’ll check in once I get there.
“She was out with friends,” her sister started again, seeming to find her voice. “They went to this new art opening for one of our friends. I wasn’t feeling well and… Oh god, I was supposed to be with her, but…okay, that’s not important.”
“Take your time,” she said gently, wishing she was there to comfort her sister.
“Okay, okay,” she breathed out, more to herself, Adalyn thought, than to her. “Someone robbed her on the way home, right outside our building. Right on…” Another shuddering breath. “On the stoop by the gates.”
Yeah, Adalyn knew the one very well. Their grandmother had owned the small building of apartments in the Quarter and had left everything to Adalyn and Fleur. Her sister had turned the place into a sort of community of artists. Adalyn let her sister do what she wanted with the place and had only insisted on upgrading the security measures. She couldn’t be there in person, but had wanted to keep her sister as safe as possible in other ways.
“Someone…a man, he held her up at gunpoint. She gave him her purse, Addy! Didn’t even fight him. I gave the detective the video and I watched it. She handed over her purse and offered her rings and bracelet and he…shot her. Point-blank. It was all so violent and fast and…unnecessary,” her sister whispered. “Cruel.”
Yeah, sometimes cruelty was the point with the monsters of the world. “I’m so sorry, Fleur. So very sorry. Where are you now?”
“I’m still at the police station. I came down with the detective to answer questions about her life and…” Another shuddering breath. “I tried to see if Rory was working, but they said he wasn’t. And I didn’t want to bother him,” she said on a hiccup. “I can’t believe she’s really gone.”
Detective Rory Collins, Adalyn’s high school boyfriend and all-around good guy. She hadn’t talked to him in a decade but knew that Fleur remained in touch with him. “I know, hon. I know. Listen, I’m on my way to see you.”
“What? No, I’m okay—”
“Fleur, you’re not okay. And I’m coming whether you argue or not so please save all your energy. I would never leave you alone right now.”
“Thank you. Because you’re right, I’m not okay.” There was a wealth of sadness and pain in those words and Adalyn wished she could fix this entire messed-up world. Or at least her sister’s corner of it.
Adalyn jolted awake, realized at the sudden stillness that the plane had landed.
The pilot, a handsome man in his forties, stepped out of the cockpit, smiled politely at her. “Take your time. There’s no crew here, but Ms. Arévalo-Stuart contacted me to let you know that she’s arranged transportation to anywhere you need to go.”
Oh, Brooks must have let Skye know what was going on. “Thank you,” she murmured, feeling out of sorts after sleeping so hard. But she picked up her duffel from the seat she’d dropped it in, glad she hadn’t unpacked.
He simply nodded and went about opening the door and stairs. The moment it opened, she could scent her city, the one she’d more or less grown up in. And yeah, that was probably more sentimental bullshit than anything, but she didn’t care. Tears pricked her eyes at the reason she’d come home, but she quickly knuckled them away.
Her sister would need someone to lean on, someone strong, not a crying mess. A darkly tinted SUV was waiting by the time she disembarked, bag in tow.
A man with dark hair, dark eyes and light brown skin opened the back hatch, then looked behind her as she tossed her bag inside. “Do you need help with the rest of your luggage?”
“This is it.”
He looked faintly surprised, but nodded politely before rounding the SUV.
Ten minutes later, all the formal politeness from earlier had vanished as they bantered back and forth as if they’d known each other forever. “I can’t believe Zula Mae was your grandmother. She used to throw the wildest parties. Back when she was younger of course, not so much in her later years. You wouldn’t have been born yet for those.”
Adalyn laughed lightly as he expertly drove through the narrow streets, raindrops splattering across the windshield in a steady rhythm. “Yep. I’ve seen the pictures.” Old photographs she and her sister had framed and immortalized of a loud woman who refused to live by anyone’s standards but her own. “My sister now runs the apartments she left us.”
“On Dauphine? Yeah, I know exactly where you’re talking about. A bunch of artists and writers live there now.”
“That’s the one. So how do you like driving?”
“Love it,” he said matter of factly as he pulled up to a stoplight by the highway, his blinker on, clicking in tune with his windshield wipers. “Tried retiring three years ago and nearly drove my wife crazy. My grandson owns a shop downtown, and he convinced me to get into private driving. Said I’d make a killing during the busy season and I’d get to talk to people from all over, two things I love. So what are you doing in town anyway?”
“Ah…just visiting my sister.” She debated how much to open up, decided to keep things light. “It’s been too long since I’ve seen her.” And that was the truth because a year was far too long. Had it really been that long? Adalyn winced at that, internally kicking herself for not getting back home sooner.
“Family is important.” The man, Fabian Boudreaux, nodded as the light turned green. “Nothing matters without family. I’ve got four grandchildren now, mostly adults, and know that’s a blessing…”
As he continued talking, she simply soaked up his words as she stared out the rain-soaked window. The lights from passing vehicles or streetlamps all blurred prettily as he maneuvered his way through streets that always seemed to be under construction. Being back home like this was another stark reminder of how different it was from DC, where she’d spent far too many years. Because even if they hadn’t had a connection, she knew that Fabian would have eventually warmed up to her and basically told her about his life, asked about hers. That was the way it was down here.
“What’s your wife think about that?” she asked when he said he was thinking about building a small shed in their backyard.
“It was her idea. I mean, she doesn’t know I know that, but she left enough brochures lying around that I know what she’s about. After fifty-four years of being married, I know that woman and she knows me.”
“Wow.” Pretty much summed it up. Fifty-four years was more than she could imagine being tethered to someone. She glanced down as her phone buzzed, frowned to see a handful of incoming images.
Ice slicked down her spine, coated her veins in a spindly web as she read the message, saw the pictures clearly. Clara sprawled on the sidewalk, her eyes staring sightlessly, a crimson stain spread across the bright pink of her party dress.
You killed my family, now I’ve killed your sister. And I’m just starting.
She stared at the text, uncomprehending for only a moment. Oh god. She mumbled something to Fabian about needing to make a call as she pressed her sister’s number.
“Hey, are you here—”
Adalyn bit back the sob that wanted free as she heard her sister’s voice. “Where are you?”
“Wh…ah, I’m at a shitty diner across from the police station drinking coffee. I couldn’t go home and they’re the only decent-ish place open.”
“Drop me a pin, now. And don’t leave.”
“I…you’re scaring me.”
She glanced at the front, saw Fabian studiously pretending to give her privacy even if he’d hear everything she said regardless. “Just trust me. Please.”
“Okay. I trust you, always.”
Swallowing hard, she glanced down as the pin popped up, relayed the address to Fabian.
“We’re close to that,” he said as he glanced in the rearview mirror, switched lanes. “Maybe five minutes out.”
“I’ll be there in five,” she murmured, her heart racing even as she ordered herself to remain calm. She’d been keeping herself under control since she was eight years old, knowing that if she didn’t, if she was too loud, or talked back, it could provoke a burst of anger in her father. Not that he’d needed the excuse to hit her or her sister. That had been before they’d gone to live with her grandmother.
Zula Mae had found out their father had been beating them when Adalyn had been ten and gone after him with a baseball bat. After breaking his knee, she’d threatened to burn down his house with him in it if he ever came around her or Fleur again. And that had been that; he’d split town and they’d never seen him or heard from him again.
“There are two cops that just walked in. Should I say anything to them?”
“No. Just sit tight. And if you’re near a window, move away from it.”
“I’m not. I’m in the back corner booth. I didn’t want to see or talk to anyone.” Grief laced her words.
Adalyn could see on the GPS that they were only a couple blocks away. “I’m going to hang up now, but I’ll see you in two minutes.”
“Everything okay?” Fabian asked as she hung up, texted Skye. She didn’t care that it was almost six in the morning on the East Coast.
“Ah, yeah. Would you mind waiting while I collect my sister? And then drive us to the original address?”
“No problem. I’m your driver as long as you need.”
She blinked as he pulled up to the curb in front of the diner. “Seriously?”
“Yep. Whoever hired me paid for my services for up to a month, said to take you wherever you wanted to go, whenever.”
Oh god, that stupid heat was back, pressing against her eyelids. Skye had done this. Because of course she had. “I won’t be long.”
“Take your time, darlin’.”
Throat tight, she simply nodded and pulled a ball cap out of her purse. She always had one handy, because in her world she never knew when she’d need to be incognito. As he idled, she wrapped her braid up in the cap, then pulled out a pair of teal-framed glasses that had no prescription. Not a wild disguise like some of hers, but this was enough to block her face from any potential cameras that might catch her.
If she kept her head down.
Thankfully it was raining, which would only help her more. She pulled the hood of her jacket up and over her head, ducked out into the rain.
A few drops hit her face before she reached the protection of the overhang and opened the glass door. The two cops by the window looked over as the little bell jingled overhead. She politely smiled and made her way down the line of booths until she saw her sister huddled in the back booth over a mug of coffee.
And oh god, that heat was back, pressing at the backs of her eyelids. Her phone buzzed with an incoming call—Skye—but she ignored it for now as she slid into the booth next to Fleur. “Hey,” she said as she pulled her sister into a tight hug.
Her sister held her back tight, burying her face against Adalyn’s neck, and all she could do was hold her, comfort her. She had no idea what was going on, but no one was going to hurt her baby sister.
She’d destroy them first.