A Thousand Lies (11 page)

All of a sudden, they heard footsteps coming down the hall, and before Brendan could leave, Grayson March strode into the office. It was obvious by his mode of dress that he’d been at some formal affair.

“What’s the plan? Have you talked to anyone at the fire department? Do we know if the fire has jumped buildings yet?”

When no one answered, he realized something else was happening. “What? Talk, damnit! I’m not a mind reader!”

“Juliette was kidnapped,” Jack said.

Grayson gasped, reached for the edge of the desk to steady himself and then all of a sudden turned on Brendan.

“God damn you!” he said softly.

Brendan blinked. The first thing he thought was
what the hell?
And then it hit him. Anson.
He thinks Anson did it and her association with me is to blame.
He felt the accusation as surely as if the words had been spoken.

“You don’t understand,” Brendan began,

Grayson pointed a finger in Brendan’s face.

“Don’t fucking talk to me,” he whispered, grabbed his cell phone and make a quick call.

Jack frowned. “What the hell’s wrong with you, Grayson? Bren didn’t—”

But Grayson held up a hand for silence, waiting for his call to be answered.

“This is Parker.”

“It’s me. Where the fuck is Anson Poe?”

Parker was still standing across the street from the restaurant. “He’s still inside Adelaine’s.”

“I need his whereabouts verified. Go into Adelaine’s and get eyes on him now! Call me back as soon as you know.”

Brendan was stunned. He had feared all along something would happen that would turn Grayson March against their relationship, but nothing like this. And he was also pissed. Julie was missing, and the window of opportunity to stop this before it was too late was very brief. As far as he was concerned, they were wasting valuable time. He pointed at Marco.

“Go out front to wait for the police. I’m checking the alley.”

Grayson grabbed him by the arm. “You go nowhere until I—”

It was all Brendan could do not to hit him. Once again, he had been judged and found guilty because of his father’s name.

“Take your hand off of me,” he said softly. “We already know who took Julie. It’s on the fucking security camera,” he said and ran out of the office.

Shock swept across Grayson’s face, but before he could answer, his phone rang.

“What?”

Parker spoke quickly, sensing the urgency without understanding the need.

“Roberts said the back was clear. No one’s been in or out but kitchen help dumping garbage. Poe is inside at his table eating his meal.”

“Someone kidnapped Juliette. Don’t lose him,” Grayson said and disconnected.

Jack was staring at him as if he’d lost his mind.

“What the hell did you just do? Brendan didn’t deserve any of that.”

Grayson wouldn’t admit he’d been wrong. He was in too much of a panic about what had happened. “Show me the security footage,” he said shortly and watched all the way through from the moment of panic in the bar, to the actual attack. When he saw the man knock his daughter out and carry her out of the bar in front of everyone, he was so frantic he was shouting.

“Why the hell didn’t someone stop him?”

“Because the place was in obvious panic as you can see, and I had the men evacuating the bar,” Jack yelled back. “You want to blame me for this now, too? Damn it, Grayson. I thought you were better than this. You owe Brendan Poe an apology.”

“You still don’t know that!” Grayson roared, and then began to pace. “We need a name. He could be someone Anson Poe hired. If this man has been in here so much, wouldn’t one of the bartenders know who he is?”

“I don’t know. I’ll call them.”

His first call was to Wynn, who knew nothing.

He made the second call to Toni, praying she would know more. She picked up on the third ring.

“Hello?”

“Toni, it’s Jack.”

“Please tell me you found Julie.”

“No. The bald-headed guy who always sat at the end of the bar kidnapped her. We caught it on camera. Do you know his name?”

“Oh my God!” Toni cried. “No, no, I don’t. He didn’t talk. He paid cash. He ordered the same thing every time he came in. I don’t think Julie even knew his name. She just called him the troll.”

Jack’s heart sank. “Okay, but if you think of anything, call me.”

“I will.”

He could hear her crying as he disconnected.

“Well?” Grayson asked.

Jack shook his head. “She didn’t know anything but that Julie called him the troll.”

“God Almighty,” Grayson said. He felt like throwing up as he shoved shaky hands through his hair. “Where the hell are the police? Did anyone call the police?”

“Brendan did and sent Marco outside to wait for them.”

Grayson staggered toward a chair.

“Look,” Jack said. “I know this is a shock, and we’re all scared out of our minds here, but blaming a good man because his father is an ass is beneath you.”

At that point, Deuce came running.

“Boss, the fire has jumped a building. Now there’s only two between us and the fire.”

Jack spun, grabbed a box out of storage and began filling it with computer discs, then pulled the CDs from the security cameras and began boxing them up, too.

“What are you doing?” Grayson yelled. “The police need to see this, as soon as possible.”

“Tell me something, Grayson. If it burns up before they get a chance to see it, how the hell is that going to help Julie?”

Grayson nodded. “You’re right. I’m sorry. I can’t think. I can’t think. My baby! Oh my God, my baby! This is a nightmare and Lana doesn’t even know it’s happened. How do I tell my wife her daughter’s been kidnapped? Where the hell are the police?”

****

Brendan’s mind was racing as he went out the back door to where Deuce was standing watch. Earlier in the evening, the promise of a thunderstorm had been evident by the building clouds and distant flashes of lightning. But now, all he could see was smoke.

“Deuce, did you see anyone in the alley? Anybody dumpster diving or taking a shortcut?”

“No, man, I’m sorry.”

Brendan took off through the alley, heading for the street ahead. It had been a little over thirty minutes now since she disappeared and he was so scared he couldn’t think. Where the hell had they gone?

The acrid scent of smoke added to the misery of sweltering heat, and coupled with the constant blast of sirens, it was more than unnerving. Brendan ran, marking off the length of the alley by the number of dumpsters and the piles of overflowing trash he passed. About halfway down, a black cat ran out in front of him and disappeared through a hole in the fence, but the bad luck omen had come too late. Disaster had already struck.

When he ran out into the street, he paused to scan the area. Tourists were scattering like quail while the local vendors were pulling in their street wares and locking up their stores. They couldn’t protect their property from going up in smoke, but they didn’t want to be with it if it happened.

Then he saw movement in a window of a store across the street and ran toward The Candy Basket just in time to catch the owner coming out.

“Michelle!”

The middle-aged redhead turned and then frowned. “Brendan! You should be getting out of the Quarter.”

“I can’t. Juliette March has been kidnapped.”

“Oh dear lord!” she cried and then looked down the street as a half-dozen police cars went flying past. “Is that for her?”

“Yes. I need to ask you something. By any chance did you notice a bald, heavy-set, middle-aged guy come out of the alley carrying something? He would have been wearing jeans and a navy, short-sleeved knit shirt.”

“No! Oh lord! I’m so sorry. Oh, wait! I saw Count LeGrande walking the beat out here earlier. If you can find him, he might have seen something.”

Brendan grabbed her arm. “Thank you! Thank you, Michelle.”

He scanned both sides of the block then took off up the street at a jog, keeping an eye out for the Count as he went.

Everyone in the French Quarter knew the Count. He hung out on the street corners every night in a dusty black frock coat, an old, black top hat, and white spats on his shoes, claiming ancestors who’d been connected to French royalty and posing for pictures with tourists.

Brendan was about to cross an intersection when he saw a street musician named Eugene on the other corner, packing up his guitar. He cut across the street, dodging another cop car heading toward the fire.

“Hey, Eugene!”

The elderly black man looked up. He’d been trying to get his guitar in the case, but his hands were trembling so much he couldn’t fasten the clips.

“Let me help you,” Brendan said and fastened it for him.

“Thank you, Bren! You’re a good boy! Not like your daddy, for sure.”

“Yeah, thanks, Eugene. Listen. I need help. Someone kidnapped Juliette March,” he said and repeated the description.

Eugene’s eyes were already watering from the gathering smoke, but they filled anew when he heard the news.

“I’m sorry to hear this. Her daddy is like yours, but on the other side of the law. Both of them got their own brand of enemies. As for seeing that man you’re talking about, I sure didn’t, although I wish I had. She is a fine little lady.”

“Yes, she is. By any chance have you seen the Count?”

“Yes, I saw him about ten minutes ago heading to the riverfront. He’s got himself a little place down there somewhere.”

“Thanks, Eugene. I owe you,” Brendan said and began to backtrack. Now all he could do was pray he found him, and that the old man had seen something—anything that would help them identify who had taken her.

He paused at another intersection as a pair of mounted police rode past on horseback, and as he did, he suddenly remembered Claudette’s warning about his father planning revenge. What if Grayson’s suspicions had been justified? What if Anson had orchestrated this? His gut knotted. If this turned out to be true, he would never be able to live with himself.

****

Adelaine’s restaurant was far enough away from the fire that management had not ordered an evacuation, although a good number of their patrons left once the news began to spread. But Anson was not one of them. Instead, he sat at his table, waiting for the food he ordered while savoring a wine his father had always favored.

He hadn’t known the first fire would be set tonight, but since it was happening while he was in town, he needed an airtight alibi. They would, most likely, rule the fire as arson, and after the way he and Lisette had parted company, she might name him as a suspect. He needed to make sure the wait staff here would vouch for his presence.

He was buttering a piece of bread and about to take a bite when he caught sight of one of March’s men in the doorway and stifled a smile. And there was his second witness to an alibi.

Damn, but he loved it when a plan came together
.

****

Lisette stood on the far side of the parking lot in shock, watching her world burning down. Everything inside the building had been incinerated. Not only was her means of making a living gone, but so was her home. The only positive aspect was that everyone had gotten out alive, including her upstairs clients.

When the old brick walls began to collapse inward, she moaned right along with the crowd behind her, but when she heard another loud, collective shriek, she peered through the smoke and saw the reason.

The fire had just jumped the alley.

Another building was on fire.

Mon Dieu! What else was going to burn?

“Lisette! Lisette Branscum!”

She recognized a reporter from one of the newspapers heading toward her.

And so it begins.

****

Chub Walton was so elated by the unexpected turn of events that he kept giggling, although he was concerned for the little blonde slumped over in the seat beside him, surprised she was still unconscious. He hadn’t hit her any harder than he had his other victims, but she was undoubtedly the smallest one physically, which might be the reason.

He had done other women unconscious before, but they didn’t pass out until after the third or fourth time he’d had them. He hadn’t intended to break this one’s neck, but his mother had always said he didn’t know his own strength. It was going to be disappointing if the woman never woke up.

He began hearing sirens, and caught a glimpse of flashing lights in his rearview mirror as he braked for a red light. His heart beat a little faster, but he relaxed when they sped on through the intersection. Now all he had to do was get out of the city. As soon as the light turned green, he hit the gas.

****

Brendan was choking on smoke and gasping for breath by the time he reached the riverfront. He paused briefly, looking up and down the long, cobbled street for a tall, dusty man in a top hat, but had no such luck.

His eyes were burning from both the heat and smoke, and he kept blinking them in an effort to clear his vision. It appeared things were getting worse.

The smoke was beginning to gather down on the river’s edge, held close to the ground by the damp night air. Even more disturbing, there were so many people down here now, that it would have been impossible to pick LeGrande out of the crowd.

Julie had now been missing almost forty-five minutes. He was not only scared for her welfare, but still reeling from the verbal attack from his boss. He was going to be late getting home and needed to let Claudette know.

“God help me,” he whispered and called home.

Claudette answered. “Hello?”

“Auntie, it’s me, Brendan. Something terrible has happened and I can’t come home.”

He heard her gasp. “The fire! Is it the fire? It’s all over the news. Have you been burned?”

“No, no, but during the confusion of evacuating the bar, Juliette was kidnapped by a man who’s been stalking her. We have the abduction on the security cameras, but no idea of who he is. I’m down on the riverfront looking for the Count. It’s possible he could have seen something that would help us. I’m trying to find him now, but everything’s in such a mess. People are leaving in droves because of the fire. It’s already spread to a second building.”