New Orleans Noir Page 18

  Panic painted ugly pictures in her mind. She struggled to stay reasonably calm.

  “The three of them were having lunch and a beer at the Crescent City Brewhouse. They were almost through eating when Lacy excused herself to go the restroom and didn’t return.”

  “So she just walked out on them. Did they have an argument?”

  “According to Courtney, everything seemed to be going great except that Lacy was even livelier and more animated than usual.”

  None of this made sense. Surely no one abducted her in the middle of the day. “When did this happen?”

  “Approximately a half hour ago. They started to worry after about ten minutes. They searched the bathroom and outside the building. There was no sign of her. The rain had started by then so it was very unlikely she stepped outside to make a phone call or write a text.”

  “Did they try to text her?”

  “They called her and then they answered her phone. She’d left it on the table with them so they couldn’t possibly reach her.”

  “Did they see her talking to anyone who looked suspicious either inside or outside the restaurant?”

  He shook his head. “Don’t jump to the worst conclusions, Helena.”

  “You mean like the fact that the French Kiss Killer told me it was full speed ahead or that Lacy looks enough like the last young woman he’d murdered that they could be twins?”

  “Or more likely, she’s slipped off to see her new love interest that she told Alyssa about.”

  “Do they know who that is?”

  “Brenda has strong suspicions. She thinks Lacy has been sneaking out to meet Connor Harrington after he goes off duty at night.”

  “Connor, my engaged tenant? What a jerk. Lacy is years too young...”

  She stopped midsentence as a terrifying possibility rushed her brain. “Oh my God. Surely he didn’t kill Elizabeth. He’s not planning to kill Lacy.”

  “More likely he’s a jerk who two-times his fiancée, but I’m heading over to the Aquarelle Hotel now to question him about his relationship to Lacy and see if they’re up to a little afternoon delight or if he knows where she is.”

  “And if he’s not there?” she asked, her fears multiplying even with no real evidence.

  “If he’s not there, we’ll find him. I had hoped we could grab a quick lunch before I had to jump back into the fray but looks like that’s out of the question. I’ll walk you home. It’s barely out of the way.”

  “I’ll save you the trouble,” Helena said, the plan forming in her mind as she spoke. “I’m going to the hotel with you.”

  “This is police business. I can’t take a civilian into that situation.”

  “Then I’m going without you. As a friend of Lacy, I have every right to talk to him myself.”

  “You’re not a friend of Lacy’s.”

  “Close enough.” She started walking.

  Hunter tried to grab her wrist. She shoved him away and kept walking.

  “At least let me do all the talking,” Hunter ordered.

  She made no promises.

  Fifteen minutes later Helena and Hunter were seated in Connor’s office, sipping hot coffee from deep blue mugs that had been brought in by one of his waitresses. Connor sat across from them, tapping nervously on the table.

  “This isn’t the best time for me to chat,” Connor said, “but since you insisted we meet, I assume this is police business.”

  “It is,” Hunter said.

  Connor nodded toward Helena. “So why is she here?”

  “She’s concerned about a young woman who’s a guest in your hotel.”

  “It’s not my job to keep up with the guests. It’s my job to make sure they’re comfortable and satisfied.”

  “Have you been satisfying Lacy Blankenship this afternoon?” Helena asked, letting the reproachful words slip out before she could stop them.

  Hunter glared at her.

  Connor ignored her question and kept facing Hunter. “What is this about? Are you accusing me of something?”

  “No,” Hunter answered. “We’re just trying to track down Miss Blankenship. It seems she’s lost her phone and no one can reach her.”

  “Have you contacted her friend Brenda who’s traveling with her? You can usually find the two of them together.”

  “Not this time. Brenda is the one who brought her sudden disappearance to our attention.”

  “I’m sorry, but I can’t help you with that.”

  “Brenda seems to think you’ve been hanging out with Lacy after closing time,” Hunter said.

  “Is that against the law these days?”

  “No,” Hunter said.

  “Regardless, I haven’t seen her after work or any other time except to speak to her inside the hotel common areas. I’m engaged to be married to a beautiful and wonderful woman. I love her and there is no way I’m going to mess up what we have with a fling. Besides, it would be against company policy and I’m not doing anything to blow this job.”

  Helena had to admit he sounded sincere, and she wanted to believe him. She’d always liked Connor. But the anxiety burning in her chest wouldn’t quit.

  “Do you have security cameras in the hallway?” Helena asked.

  “Antoine Robicheaux’s company installed all of our security features,” Connor assured her. “They’re the best in the business. I’d need a warrant to release private information on my guests.”

  “No warrant at this point,” Hunter said. “I would like to check her room to make sure she hasn’t injured herself and can’t call for help.”

  “Good idea,” Connor agreed willingly. “I’ll check her room number and walk you up there.”

  In case she’d been injured or met with foul play. Helena knew exactly what he really meant.

  “You’ll need to wait here, Miss Cosworth,” Connor said. “Company policy when I open someone’s room for the police.”

  “No problem.”

  Apprehension ran ragged races along her nerves until they returned ten minutes later. The room search had revealed nothing. Suitcases and clothes were still in the closets and there was no sign of foul play.

  “So, that’s it?” Helena questioned as they left the hotel.

  “I can’t exactly arrest him due to rumors he may be having a consensual affair.”

  “But what if he knows where Lacy is? What if...”

  Hunter interrupted her with a finger to her lips. “I’m a good cop, Helena, with great instincts. I think Connor was telling the truth.”

  “But if you’re wrong?”

  “Then we’re still covered. I’ll have a tail on him until Lacy shows up.”

  “I’m sorry,” she said. “You’re the detective. I’m not. But this is all so frightening and nerve-racking.”

  “I know. For all of us. I’m just trying to do my job the best I know how. I’ll put my life on the line in a heartbeat to save an innocent life—the same way everyone on the investigative force will. But just so you know, keeping you safe is the most important thing in my life right now.”

  He pulled her into his arms and touched his lips to hers. She trembled, not from fear, but from the intensity of the emotions coursing through her veins.

  “Thanks for being a hero,” she said when he let her go. “Thanks for looking after me.”

  “Always.”

  Always would be almost long enough for her.

  * * *

  THE RAIN HAD slowed to a mist when he spotted Lacy, waiting for him in the narrow alleyway where he’d told her to meet him. He scanned the area to make sure no one was watching and then stopped next to the dumpster.

  He reached across the seat and opened the passenger side door. She smiled and climbed in.

  “I was afraid you weren’t coming,” she said, leaning over for a kiss a
s he drove to the corner.

  “I’m right on time,” he said, just as he’d planned it. “Have you seen anyone since you got here?”

  “No people. I was checked out by a calico cat and a couple of roaches large enough to give the curious cat a ride on their backs. This disgusting alley stinks.”

  “Sorry about that but it can’t be helped.”

  “How long do we have to keep our feelings for each other a secret?”

  “One more night, and then you can tell the world.”

  “You’re so mysterious.”

  “That’s what you love about me.” He chuckled as he reached over and ran his right hand between her legs. This would be so easy. He turned right at the corner.

  “Where are we going?” Lacy asked.

  “To a hideaway in Algiers.”

  “A hotel?”

  “Nothing that boring,” he teased.

  “I don’t even know where Algiers is, but I can’t wait.”

  “Only a short drive away, I promise. And then we’ll have the whole night together.”

  “I’ll need to use your phone to call Brenda before dark and let her know I’m safe.”

  “Of course, my sweet. We can do whatever you want.” Tonight would be his grand finale, the end of his career as the French Kiss Killer.

  Two more murders and then he’d have to let this dark side of him die with the murderous legend. Part of being a successful serial killer was knowing when to let the identity fade into oblivion. Even he couldn’t outsmart everyone forever.

  Tonight, he’d have the ultimate orgasm as he watched two beautiful women fighting for their last breaths before he tossed them overboard to the hungry gators who lived in the swampy waters.

  And no one would ever guess that the killer had been in their midst all the time.

  * * *

  HELENA RECEIVED A phone call from Hunter at ten o’clock that evening. He gave her a quick update on the quickly emerging situation.

  Lacy Blankenship had not been found. Her friend Brenda was an emotional train wreck and was talking to every reporter who’d listen to her. She’d also called Lacy’s parents.

  It was the first they’d heard of the French Kiss Killer. They were desperate and had booked the first flight to New Orleans the following morning.

  “I’d hoped I could get back there to at least tell you good night in person, but that looks impossible now.”

  “I understand. I’m in good hands with Cory Barker tonight, but what happened to Doug Conn? Did he have enough of me already?”

  “He’s taking the second shift tonight,” Hunter said. “Rest assured, no way is anyone getting the best of Barker.”

  “I’m convinced,” she said. “Don’t worry about me. I’m more concerned about you.”

  “Don’t be. I plan to still be alive to celebrate when the French Kiss Killer goes down. Tell Barker I’ll get back to him later. Gotta run now, but...” He hesitated. “About the other night when I said you should go to Boston. That was only about keeping you safe. I hope you know that.”

  “Let’s save the subject of Boston for another night.”

  They said their goodbyes and she walked back into the kitchen. Barker was spooning vanilla ice cream over a slice of apple pie Ella had brought over at dinnertime.

  She filled him in on the latest news about Lacy. Neither of them mentioned that she might be in the hands of the serial killer, but the possibility silently overrode the conversation and the mood.

  Barker wiped his mouth on a paper towel he’d taken from the counter. “You can tell me it’s none of my business if you want, but what’s the deal between you and Hunter? I know you used to date, but what broke you guys up? You seem to have a lot of chemistry going on between you now.”

  She started to evade a direct answer to Barker’s question the way she usually did, but what was the point? It was fact.

  “He left me at the altar.”

  “Hunter? Man, that doesn’t sound like him.”

  “He had his reasons.”

  “That’s a shocker. I figured it was the other way around. Your grandmother said you were a very talented artist with a promising career in Boston. Hunter doesn’t seem like much of a fine arts connoisseur kind of guy so I figured you were too sophisticated for him.”

  “I am an artist and I do love everything about the art world and Boston, but that’s not what broke us up.”

  “They have art in New Orleans—or so I’ve heard,” Barker said. “I haven’t actually seen any of it, well, except for the statues in the park and in St. Louis Cathedral. Any chance you’ll move back here permanently and take over your grandmother’s property?”

  “There’s always a chance.” If she had something to come back for.

  * * *

  BY THE TIME Helena went to bed, the rain had stopped completely, and the clouds had thinned to the point where a few stars and a crescent moon found an occasional opening.

  She’d left the curtains open, preferring a glimpse of moonlight to darkness tonight. Better to see the shadows creeping across her ceiling than to fight the nightmarish images flooding her subconscious.

  It was past midnight the last time she’d checked the phone. The monster had still not called.

  * * *

  HELENA WAS WAKENED by the shrill ringing of her phone. Startled, she sat up in bed, heart pounding. The monster had finally called.

  She reached for the wired phone but let her hand slide across it without picking it up when she realized it was her personal phone that was ringing. It must be Hunter calling with another update.

  She stared out the sliding glass door and murmured hello in her sleep-heavy, husky voice.

  “Bonjour, mademoiselle.” Spoken in a soft, disguised voice.

  Her heart jumped to her throat. The monster was always a step ahead.

  “Who are you?” she begged. “Where are you?”

  “Turn around and see.”

  Chapter Eighteen

  Fear gripped Helena as she stood, turned and stared into the steel-gray eyes of Antoine Robicheaux. Only a few feet away. Smiling as if this were all a very sick joke.

  “Not you. The monster can’t be you.”

  Her pleadings of denial sounded brittle even to her own ears, as if fighting their way through a scream that was stuck in her throat.

  “Don’t be so surprised. No one is what they seem. Not even you. Given the right circumstances, everyone can kill.”

  “You’re right. I could kill you right now and enjoy it.”

  But could she or would she hesitate even if the pistol Hunter had given her was in her hand?

  “Did you kill Elizabeth Grayson?”

  “No. That was the work of the French Kiss Killer.” He smirked. “I’m part of the good guys team. Just ask Hunter.”

  “Do you have Lacy?”

  “Are you jealous? Don’t be. She’s waiting on you in the swamp. We should hurry. The gators will be getting hungry.”

  In one quick movement, she yanked open the drawer of her bedside table and went for the gun she’d never expected to fire. Before she could take aim, Robicheaux knocked the gun from her shaking grasp and slammed a fist into her stomach.

  She doubled over in pain and finally the scream escaped. Shrill, loud, tearing from her throat like ripped tissue. There was no way Barker couldn’t have heard her, but there was no response.

  Robicheaux must have already killed him. She was on her own. She was no match for him physically, but if she could make it onto her balcony, some late-night partyers on the street might hear her scream.

  But the bed was between her and the balcony and Robicheaux was between her and the stairs.

  There was no exit. She had to fight. Still struggling to breathe after the punch in the stomach, she went for the bedside lamp.

&nb
sp; Before she could tear the plug from the wall, he was on her again. She felt a sharp, piercing stab in her neck. She saw the needle as he pulled it from her flesh. She kicked and swung her fists, connecting only with air.

  The room began to spin. Pinpricks of light went off inside her head like bottle rockets as Robicheaux bound her legs and wrists. She knew what he was doing, but she had no control of her body. No feeling of pain or movement.

  Hunter would kill Robicheaux for this. Somehow, he’d find out the truth and Robicheaux would pay. But it would be too late for Helena and Lacy.

  I love you, Hunter. I haven’t moved on. I couldn’t. You never let go of my heart.

  * * *

  HELENA FADED IN and out of the comatose condition, unsure where she was even when she was partially alert, unable to scream or to speak, her body being bounced around as if she were on a carnival ride.

  She had no idea how long she’d been floating in and out of consciousness. A moment? An hour? A day?

  Finally, the movement stopped. She opened her eyes as metal clicked and could tell that she was lying in the trunk of a vehicle, a man staring down at her.

  Romeo. Antoine Robicheaux. The monster. Confusion diffused enough that she remembered being abducted. She had no idea where he’d taken her. Her wrists and hands were bound in duct tape.

  He lifted her roughly as if she were a sack of potatoes and then propped her against the back fender of a pickup truck. Her bare feet sank into a boggy quagmire.

  He dragged her through an area that became continuously swampy as they went downhill toward a gray, weathered, ramshackle house like the ones Hunter had pointed out to her when they’d visited Eulalie.

  But the area looked different. More trees with branches that canopied the dark water. A bayou that seemed to finger out in every direction.

  She heard a splash and turned to watch an alligator slide from the muddy bank and into a strand of slowly moving water.

  When they reached the half-rotted steps to the front porch, Robicheaux picked her up, carried her inside and then dropped her onto a stained and dusty sofa.