I’m sorry, Heather. I’m sorry that I’ve put him in danger. I’m so sorry.
His wife couldn’t hear him, of course. But it helped to talk to her, even if it was only in his mind. It helped him feel not so alone.
He was so damned tired of feeling alone.
Val smiled down at Elijah. “Then, if Aunt Genie’s up to it, we’ll Skype with her to get some tips.” She slid her arm around Elijah protectively. “We will keep him safe, Mr. Cardozo.”
Kaj exhaled, relieved when Elijah rested his head on the woman’s shoulder. They’d made a connection, and from everything Burke had told him, she’d protect Elijah with her life.
“Burke, I’d like to see your contract for both investigative and bodyguard services.”
Val’s brows rose. “We’re investigating, too? The whole team?”
“You are,” Kaj answered. “I’ve asked Burke to put as many people as he can on this case. While I trust the NOPD to fully investigate, I’m taking no chances with Elijah’s safety.”
Which was a diplomatic way of saying that, after six months in his role, he still wasn’t sure who he could trust within the NOPD. He’d taken the job with the Orleans Parish DA’s office to help identify internal corruption, and he’d been successful so far. Unfortunately, he’d made a few enemies within the NOPD along the way.
He was not going to apologize for hiring a private firm to find out exactly who was behind the plot to abduct his son. He wasn’t worried about being able to afford Burke’s services. He didn’t earn a lot as a prosecutor, but he had the funds from Heather’s life insurance. He hadn’t touched a dime, planning to give it to Elijah someday for college. But Heather would approve of him using the money to protect their son. If it wasn’t enough to cover Burke’s bill, Kaj would sell everything he owned if it meant keeping Elijah safe.
So first, he’d review the contracts. But before he signed anything, he’d find out what the hell Val Sorensen knew about Dewey Talley and Sixth Day and why she knew it.
2
Downtown, New Orleans, Louisiana
TUESDAY, OCTOBER 25, 9:15 A.M.
ARE YOU READY?” Ed asked, looking worried. “Do you need to go over it again?”
Corey gave himself a final look in his foyer mirror, smoothing his tie with a hand that did not tremble. He’d survived enemy sniper fire in Iraq. A dozen reporters were no threat.
“I’m ready,” he said. He’d spent most of the night on the phone with Ed and their other business partner, Bobby. Their heads had been far cooler than Corey’s after Jace had called him with the story of the failed abduction. Of a prosecutor’s son, no less.
Of the one prosecutor whose attention Corey sought most to avoid. This week was critical for him and Bobby and Ed. The success of their business depended on the job they were about to close. They couldn’t afford to be sucked into whatever hell Rick’s stupidity had brought down on their heads.
Corey had been convinced that Rick’s fuckup was a disaster for him as well, but Bobby was a former cop and knew how police investigations worked. Plus, Bobby still had eyes and ears in the department who slipped him information every now and then. Last night, one of his sources had come through for them, giving them the single piece of intelligence that would turn this debacle into the perfect smoke screen.
They were going to spin this story, reimagining it in their own favor. They’d already laid the foundation with the cops, painting Rick as a troubled teenager with a serious drug problem when they’d come to question him the night before. Now they were going to use the media to seal the deal.
He nodded to Ed. “Let’s do this.”
“Corey,” a small voice all but whispered. “Wait.”
He turned to find Dianne standing in the living room archway, pale and shaking. “I ironed your pocket square.” His brother Aaron’s wife crossed the foyer with remarkable grace, considering she was already drunk as hell at nine fifteen in the morning. Pasting on a too-bright smile, she tucked his pocket square into place, then smoothed his lapels. “You’ll be fine. We’ll bring Rick home. We’ll find him.”
He kissed her cheek gently, pity and love for her momentarily dulling the rage and hatred he harbored toward his brothers. Dianne hadn’t been the same since Liam died. Neither had Corey. He’d loved that boy like he was his own son.
None of them had been the same, but that didn’t give Aaron an excuse to kill a goddamn doctor or Rick an excuse to try to kidnap the prosecutor’s son.
“We’ll find him,” he echoed confidently because she needed to hear it. There had always been a fragility to Dianne, long before Liam had been diagnosed with a rare form of leukemia, but it had always been paired with a sweetness that made everyone feel compelled to take care of her. Everyone except Aaron, of course, who was as shitty a husband as he was a brother. Even before he’d killed the doctor, he’d been a drug-dealing, lying, thieving SOB, but Dianne didn’t know any of that. She’d only just learned that Aaron had been cheating on her for years with his personal assistant.
Liam’s death and Aaron’s betrayal had pushed her past her limit. She was no longer fragile. She was downright brittle. Rick’s idiocy might very well break her.
Corey wished he could tell her that he knew exactly where Rick was to ease her mind, but he couldn’t afford to. Especially given his plans for Rick. “You stay inside with Ed, okay? You don’t need to run that gauntlet again.” She’d been staying with him to escape being pestered by reporters ever since Aaron’s asshole move last week.
Killing a damn pediatric oncologist, for God’s sake. In front of people. If Aaron had to do it, at least he could have been discreet. But Aaron was a dick, and now Corey was having to clean up his mess. Which was now doubled thanks to Rick.
Corey walked through the front door of his house, which he’d allowed the police to search during the night. It would take a week to clean the forensic fingerprinting dust from his walls, doors, and appliances. Because his brother Rick was a fucking idiot.
All his brothers were fucking idiots.
Rage bubbled up from his gut, nearly choking him, but he pushed it back. Now was not the time for rage. Now was the time for calm. Because if he was going to spin the hell out of Rick’s little fiasco, Corey needed to bring his A game.
He stopped at the edge of his front porch, counting heads. There were nearly two dozen people on his lawn. Half were reporters and the other half held cameras. They were here because he’d asked them to come. He’d promised them a statement regarding Rick.
He was going to give them one that would make headlines.
The two detectives who’d already questioned him waited behind the crowd of reporters. Corey figured the cops were watching him as much as they were looking for Rick. This performance was for them, too. He needed them firmly in his corner.