Dead Spaces: The Big Uneasy 2.0 (4 page)

“You find anything else in there?” He asked it casually. The color spread further across her face. She was a Baker. The inability to lie was probably imprinted in her DNA.

“I found one of Ken’s loafers.” She held up a tiny shoe and waved it at him.

With no more Kens to examine, her hand stole to her pocket again. If he were a betting man—which he sometimes was—he’d bet it wasn’t a doll loafer in there. If she’d found something, she’d have a good reason for hiding it. Bakers, they always had good reasons for everything they did. Also part of their DNA. Though hiding evidence didn’t usually make the list. Was it evidence though? Just some dolls in coffins—that some lawyers may or may not fight over. Of course, if there’d been human remains, no one would have claimed them.

She fiddled with the doll closest to her. Did it matter that the Kens didn’t get their heads back. And did he really want to know the answer to that. Or what she’d found and was hiding?

Right now, he wasn’t part of the hiding. He was in the clear—a good place to be in the NOPD. And with the mob—who might be interested or she wouldn’t feel compelled to hide it. That made him frown. What if Guido had picked up on her unease? She wasn’t unprotected, but he’d bet a month’s salary that she wouldn’t tell her brothers unless she had to. Would she know when she had to? But if he pushed, if he found out, then he was in it with her. Keeping a secret from his partner, too. About his partner’s sister.

Not the “in it” he’d been hoping for when he took his stroll this way. He didn’t know Hannah that well, but he knew Alex like a brother. Which meant that Holy Hannah was—not a sister. His mind flinched from that, so far he almost fell over from the jerk. Neutral ground, that’s where he’d be if he didn’t ask. In it up to his neck if he did. Only it felt like the ground under his feet had already shifted. He might not know, but he knew something.

She glanced back at him, and it was the hint of anxiety in her eyes that did it. They were blue, really dark blue except around the pupils. Close to the pupils, her eyes were a softer, lighter blue. The effect was—he tugged at the neck of his shirt. Kind of like drowning, but in a good way.

“What did you find, Hannah?” He used her name on purpose, made it personal. Safe. He hoped. Her lips parted in protest, but he shook his head. “I can call Alex, but I don’t think either of us want to do that. Alex, well, he’s a wild card right now.” He had a chilly thought, one that killed the warm caused by her eyes. “Did Guido see—” He didn’t know what question to ask.

Her eyes widened some more. Yeah, blue, but more than blue. Her lips firmed. She didn’t look at all like Alex. Until that. Now he could see a resemblance. The same stubborn set to her mouth. He waited her out. One thing he’d learned from partnering with Alex. How to wait.

The clash of gazes was prolonged. He enjoyed it. Wasn’t sure she did. Her sigh signaled surrender before she pulled her hand out of her pocket and held it out to him.

A ring.

Not what he’d expected, though he wasn’t sure what—just not that. Not even a nice one.

He moved in for a closer look at it. First decent smell in the place was her. He took several deep ones while he examined it. School ring. Old school. He didn’t get—she pulled the magnifying glass over for him. He used it, first on the outside, then on the inside—

Who was Charles Baker? He didn’t remember hearing the name, but to tell the truth, he’d tuned out a lot. Alex had a reason to be interested in an old, cold case. Ferris…less reason. He lowered the glass, turning the ring with his fingers. He cleared his throat. “You wanna get some lunch?”

Her eyes widened again. He got a cautious nod.

He leaned close, took a deep breath of her, and his gaze holding hers, he pressed the ring back in her hand and closed her fingers over it. “Let’s go.”

He had the upper hand, would have kept it if he looked away while she stripped off her the rest of protective gear. Couldn’t call it a tease—no sign she knew what she did to him—but
Holy
Hannah. When he didn’t move, she looked down at her jeans.

“I usually wear scrubs, but I’m not working today,” she said, half apologetically, half defensively.

“Well, let’s get out of here before someone decides you are working,” he said, a bit hoarsely. Holy
Hannah
.

H
annah looked around
, because she was behind the wheel and she had to, but also with a strange sense of disconnect. New Orleans looked the same. So why did it feel different? Seem different? Could it be because Logan Ferris was in her car with her? Felt like she’d wandered into an alternate reality, one where it was perfectly natural to be on her way to lunch with her big brother’s partner. One where she’d over-shared with same. She didn’t share that much with her sisters. And if she’d shared that much with her brothers? Might as well hire a billboard. That was the fast track to Zach finding out. The sisters only shared with each other. Sometimes that worked. Sometimes not.

The wheels in her head churned out a few thoughts—and some revisions—on the man lounging next to her in the front seat of her car.

He’d noticed more than she realized. That was a bit embarrassing.

She liked he hadn’t asked to drive her car. Points there.

He didn’t protest the drive-through order, or heading to Audubon Park to eat. More points.

He wasn’t looking at her like Alex’s little sister. Might get points for that. She wasn’t sure. Still processing that he’d become her partner in—what? She’d left the ring in a desk drawer. Not with the dolls. She’d acted on instinct when Guido popped into the room. As far as she knew, Uncle Charlie was long dead, but finding his ring there? That might, just might rebound onto her dad. Zach had always played his cards close to his chest, but they all knew that the stirring of the past from Nell’s arrival troubled him—and not just because it had landed one of his oldest friends in jail for past and present crimes. Not to mention left his kids wondering if Zach had known his friend was a dirty cop.

No Zach didn’t need more trouble.

Hannah spotted an open parking spot, and after a moment of shock at the sight of it, pulled in quickly and a bit crookedly. Maybe it was the heat cutting down traffic to and through the park. The air was so thick, it took effort to walk to the second surprise: an empty bench. She sat with a sigh of relief—though not before she checked it for bird deposits. Heat didn’t change avian elimination practices as far as she knew.

Ferris joined her, their shoulders almost close enough to brush together. He divided the contents of the paper bag, digging into his share without comment. That was not a surprise. Her brothers tended to eat first, talk later.

She opened her burger though with less focus. It was hard to be hungry with humidity sucking the life out of her. The traffic flowed past on St. Charles, the streetcar rumbling through the middle of it. Distantly, she heard a ship blast a warning from the Mississippi. Even the few joggers she spotted looked like they were phoning it in. She wasn’t sure why, but the flowers smelled different in summer. Or maybe the air just moved slower, so the smell seemed richer? Mixed in with the usual bouquet of spicy scents that was New Orleans, was something she suspected was Ferris. Logan? He’d called her Hannah like they were already friends. If she started calling him Logan out loud, her sisters would notice. And then want her to explain what she didn’t know. Had there really been a time when she thought she had all the answers? She would have shook her head but didn’t. Movement made her sweat more. But if they went inside now, that same sweat would freeze from the air conditioning. Like seriously freeze.

She wrapped up half her burger and shoved it back in the paper bag, then picked up her Coke and took a long, cold drink.

“Heat’s killing my appetite,” he said, finally breaking the long silence, as he added his unfinished food to the paper bag.

Hannah felt like she’d been holding her breath since that moment he’d handed the ring back. Of course she hadn’t, but she had been holding her words which was almost as hard. He hadn’t said anything when she tossed the ring in the drawer of her desk. Wasn’t sure why she felt like he needed to be the one to break the silence. Just did. She stole a look at him. Found him looking at her. Still couldn’t parse his expression.

“Yeah.” The sound of her voice was kind of a relief. She could still talk. “Why—” She stopped. Was that the right question?

“You wouldn’t have done it without a good reason.” Now question marks showed in his eyes.

“How much do you know of the old story?” she countered, while trying to figure out what to tell him, how to explain what she didn’t understand.

He blinked. “I was on vacation when it all went down. Who is Charles Baker?”

“He’s Zach’s brother. His older brother. He disappeared not too long after he graduated high school.” She tried to mentally edit the story, but that made her sweat. “I knew he had a brother who died, but we didn’t know there was this big mystery until Nell came back.”

Ferris blinked. The frown pulling his brows together was kind of…charming. She looked away. And then looked back. Found him still looking, his expression now deep in puzzled territory.

“What am I missing?”

“You weren’t around when Nell and Alex met, were you?” She knew he’d been on vacation, but was not willing to admit that. Felt almost stalker-ish for some reason. Wasn’t like she’d been tracking his movements. Just noticed he wasn’t around and managed to ask Alex without sounding like she cared. Not that hard to do with Alex. He was a guy.

Ferris shook his head.

“But he told you the basic story?”

Ferris hesitated. “Maybe refresh my memory? I might not have paid strict attention.” He looked a little sheepish.

Hannah chuckled. “Alex does go on about it. I’d have tuned him out, too.” Mostly she avoided him. She shifted so that she could see him. “What do you remember?”

“Three geezers before they were geezers decided not to kill each other. Killed Zafiro instead. Divided it all up. Two of them got married. Had kids. Kids fell in love.” He hesitated, frowned. “Not sure why that got them blown up.” His frown deepened. “Or not blown up.”

Hannah opened her mouth, but he held up a hand. “Unless Afoniki didn’t like the idea of the other two making a deal that didn’t include him?”

“That was, I think, the theory at the time.” They were all relying on the memories of old men, since the file had gone missing at some point.

“So where does Charles Baker fit in?”

“According to Zach, Charlie and Ellie Calvino were an item in high school. Nobody knows exactly what happened, but Charlie left for college, then went missing, and Ellie married Bettino Calvino.” Hannah felt her face tighten at the thought of why that might have happened. “Zach was, well, not happy with her. Blamed her, I think, for Charlie leaving, though Zach doesn’t say much.” Massive understatement. “But I think he came to believe she was pressured into it.”

“And when her daughter…died, she disappeared, too.” Ferris looked thoughtful.

“And Charlie’s ring ends up in one of the coffins they weren’t buried in.”

He stared straight ahead, but she had the feeling he didn’t see the jogger doggedly moving past, his face glistening.

“I would guess that your dad tried to find him.” He shifted, half turning to face her again. “Two high school kids could have disappeared. But they couldn’t rig up the fake burials. They’d need help for that.”

Hannah nodded. “I think Alex suspected Zach had helped them, for Ellie’s sake. Possibly for Charlie.”

“But—?”

“Zach wouldn’t tell us if he had helped.” Zach might not have been the perfect dad, but he did try to set a good example. It was her turn to stare ahead, not seeing. “Curly—William Gastonieau—who was Zach’s partner at the time, sort of implied he did the helping, but then he tried to kill Nell. Alex has been mute on the subject. It feels like there is something—or someone—we are missing.” Could Zach be protecting someone else? If the dolls were a message, what was it? It was all old news now, wasn’t it?

“I see your point.” Ferris shifted again, resting his arm along the back of the bench, not touching her, so there was no reason for the spurt of heat along her shoulders. “You could ask your dad?”

“If I show him the ring,” she shifted impatiently, “Zach will make me put it back in evidence.”

“And if you do, then the wise families will know it—” he stopped, one brow lifted.

She knew the question he wasn’t asking. What would they think about it? What would they do about it? Of course, there was only one geezer left to do something. Aleksi Afoniki hadn’t been invited to the viewing but he’d probably hear about it. He had eyes and ears everywhere. It’s why he’d managed to get old. That and being über evil.

“What if Charlie,” she hesitated, “isn’t dead? What if—” She stopped. Three dolls with holes in their heads. And two wise geezers with holes in their heads. What if Charlie had come looking for them? With a cane and a silenced weapon? There was a thought to make the eye twitch. A geezer-on-geezer crime?

“Ellie Calvino may have put that ring in there. If they were high school sweethearts, he would have given her his ring.”

“That’s something you give back when you break up,” Hannah objected.

“Unless he disappeared before she could.”

Hannah nodded. He had a point.

“You’re wondering if Charlie came back for Ellie. But how would he know—”

Hannah couldn’t help the worry she felt as she looked at him.

“You’re afraid your dad was in touch with Charlie? That he told him? Helped them both?”

She didn’t move, but knew her eyes gave her away.

“It’s a decent theory. But they’re, well, geezers, too. If they are even still alive? Revenge after all this time?”

“Unless it’s not revenge, or not completely. There’s Nell.”

His eyes widened. He looked away for several minutes, sighed, then looked at her again. “What do you want to do about it?”

Her lips twisted a bit. “I want to go back to this morning and have a do-over that doesn’t involve an exhumation. There’s a lesson in here about being careful what you wish for.”

He chuckled and she sent him an inquiring look.

“You were wishing for an exhumation?”

She half grinned. “Maybe.” She rubbed her face, then sighed. “I delve into bodies, not…secrets.” Really, really old secrets. How could they still matter now? They wouldn’t if Nell—

“You can let sleeping rings lie. If Guido didn’t smell your secret?”

“If he did, what can he do about it?” She couldn’t stop the chill running down her back, though.

“He’s a bad guy. He can do what he wants. If he thinks you know something, he will try to find out what it is.”

“I won’t tell him.” Her chin came up, then drifted down. She hated it, but she asked it. There was no one else to ask. And she trusted him, which surprised her but didn’t dismay. Which was also a surprise. “What do you think I should do?”

“Maybe it’s time for the secrets to come out. All of them. Had a mentor that used to tell me that only the truth makes you free.”

“We don’t know—besides, I’m a forensic pathologist, not a detective.”

“Well, isn’t this your lucky day. I’m a detective.”

She fought back the relief. “This isn’t your problem.”

“Well, maybe I’m willing to make it my problem, if you’ll call me Logan, and answer one question.”

Her lips twitched. “And what’s the question,
Logan
?” She could like this guy. A lot. Too much? She hoped not.

He leaned close, a slow smile turning up a sudden heat in his eyes, and igniting a quiver in her mid-section that her brain tried to discount…

“Is the age difference going to be a problem?”

Her eyes widened. Her heart sped up. It got hard to breathe. “With what?”

“This.”

The arm along the back of the bench slid down to her shoulders and tightened, bringing her in close. His eyes open, he moved in, holding her gaze as he very deliberately and with intent pressed his mouth to hers. At first the pressure was light, but her lips parted involuntarily, surprised by the sweetness flowing from his touch—sweetness with a little fire in its core—and he increased the pressure. Not too much. Didn’t want to go up in flames in the park. In the summer. Her head tilted, her lids sliding down. His grip tightened then. That was nice, too. Maybe more than nice. Might have made her head spin a bit.

Then gently, slowly, he dialed it back, bringing them back to earth. And the bench. No thump though. His arm was still around her.

“Well?” he asked, his voice husky.

She cleared her throat. “No, the age difference won’t be a problem.”

The way the kiss had curled her toes and scrambled her brain? Yeah, that was a problem.

C
laude expected
Helenne St. Cyr to be pleased at the news of Bettino Calvino’s death. That she was not surprised him. He knew the old story. Oh, not because she—or anyone else—had shared it with him. Everyone thought him dull and defeated, a pale imitation of Phineas St. Cyr. Even Phineas had failed to perceive the man he was beneath the dull.

It was—he’d learned early—much better to be underestimated than overestimated. Look at Phil. Phineas had such high hopes for his son’s ascension to power. Had believed what he wanted to believe about his only son. He hadn’t minded the love affair with the Calvino girl. He had minded Phil’s honesty. Oh yes, he’d minded that. Enough to kill him? Claude was still not sure.

Claude might not be handsome and brilliant like Phil, but he wasn’t honest. And he knew how to find out things. Knew how to adjust to the prevailing winds and alter course to stay out of the center of the turbulence. Even during the month since taking control of the St. Cyr business, he had managed to steer around the worst of the undercurrents. He knew everyone betted against him keeping control.

Let them.

They would find out that he could both have and hold. While they had been ignoring him, he had been watching them. He may not know where all their bodies were buried, but he knew what he needed to know about them. And he knew they wouldn’t see him coming until it was much too late.

He studied Helenne, trying to imagine enough passion in her to nurse vengeance for so long. She was cold all the way through. Made it hard to believe she’d ever been warm. He had not pierced all the mists of the past, but he sensed that her long lost granddaughter was not the only secret trying to emerge into the present. Sensing currents was his specialty.