Authors: Heather Graham
Her first beer gone, Kendall reached for a second.
Aidan Flynn, deep eyes as probing as ever, leaned toward her. “I hear we’re here tonight because of you,” he told her.
“Me?”
“Your friend Vinnie asked Jeremy to sit in so he could concentrate on his vocals. Some new song he wants you to hear, I gather.”
Was that a hint of jealousy she heard in his voice? she wondered. No, it couldn’t be.
The band was chatting onstage, picking up their instruments. Vinnie seemed unfazed to be handing his precious Fender to Jeremy Flynn. He barely let her touch it. Then again, she wasn’t a guitarist.
“Vinnie is a very good friend,” she told him.
“I hear you’re quite a musician, too,” Mason told Zachary.
Zachary shrugged off the compliment. “I like to play. But Jeremy is the one with the real talent.”
Mason asked Zachary something about guitars, which unfortunately left Aidan free to lean even closer and converse with her. “I’d like to take you out to eat sometime,” he said. “You can tell me more about Amelia.”
“Really?” She was still sober enough to be skeptical, she realized. “I’ve told you what I know.” To her own surprise, she leaned closer. “And you should be careful. You’re ticking off the locals.”
“I’m sorry. But I have to do what I feel is right,” he said flatly, his eyes unwavering.
“You have to understand where you are. We have problems right now. No one has time to be looking into the past.”
“I know you can help me. When you just start talking, you help me a lot.”
“Help you
what?
” she asked in exasperation.
“Put it all together.”
She took another long swallow of her beer. He was like a dog with a bone.
Bone.
She almost laughed.
“You’re creating a mystery where there isn’t one,” she told him. “You found a bone. Two bones. And that’s sad, but seriously, it’s not a huge surprise.”
“The bones? Maybe not. But the blood may prove to mean something.”
She started, suddenly feeling very cold. But she didn’t get a chance to ask him what he was talking about, because just then the drummer pounded out a rhythm to get the crowd’s attention, and then Vinnie took the microphone.
“We want to do a brand-new number for you tonight, one I wrote myself. Well, not entirely by myself. I had a little help from a friend. We started it together about ten years ago, and my cowriter is sitting right in front of me. I think we’ve got to get her up here to do this with me, don’t you?”
There was a roar of approval from the crowd as Vinnie stared straight at Kendall, one hand stretched out to urge her to the stage.
She wanted to crawl under the table. No, she wanted to fall through the floor. She felt her face flush, the breath rush from her chest.
He
couldn’t
be doing this to her!
She glared at Mason, who merely offered her a knowing grin. Damn him. He’d known all about this, she realized.
Oh, God, she’d had a few drinks, but not nearly enough for this. She glared at Vinnie, who just smiled and gestured for her to get moving.
The drunks in the room had started pounding on the tables.
“It will only get worse the longer you delay,” Aidan offered in amusement.
She stood, silently cursing Vinnie. The room—especially the drunks—seemed to appreciate the fact that she had just stood up. It was going to be okay. No, it wasn’t. If only Aidan hadn’t been there…
Maybe she wouldn’t care so much about making a fool of herself then.
She closed her eyes for a minute. The room was spinning.
“Never let the world get you down,” Amelia had said.
Kendall walked to the front of the room. Maybe she was just drunk enough to see this through.
Vinnie clasped her hand to help her up on the stage. She turned to look out at the room, then realized she shouldn’t have. The lights seemed much too bright. She tried to imagine that the room was empty, that no one was there to see her fail as spectacularly as she was sure she was about to.
But then someone got up from a table and left the bar, ruining her self-delusion. She dimly thought that it might have been the man she’d thought she recognized.
“Ready?” Vinnie whispered excitedly. He was so proud of himself.
“I don’t know what you’ve done with this,” she whispered back, trying to maintain a smile. “I haven’t thought about it in years.”
“Just follow my lead.”
The years seemed to fall away. She remembered a time when her parents had still been alive, when she’d assured Vinnie that he was going to grow up to be a great musician. And she had promised she would be right there behind him. So they had sat down and worked out the lyrics, and then Vinnie had penned the chords to go with them.
The drummer counted off, the guitar kicked in and the keyboard carried the melody. To her amazement, she remembered both the lyrics and the tune. She’d always just been the backup, and the changes he had made were easy to follow. She reminded herself that she’d promised to stand behind him, and that this was something he had worked on to honor their friendship. Didn’t matter. She still could have killed him. If only he’d let her in on it, if he’d let her practice or…
She hadn’t even sung karaoke in years, for heaven’s sake.
Somehow she made it through the song. She couldn’t decide whether she wished she hadn’t had anything to drink or that she’d gotten totally bombed. But eventually it was over, and she gave thanks for drunks, because they made for the least discerning audience she’d ever seen.
Only as Vinnie hugged her and gave her a kiss on the cheek and introduced her to the crowd, explaining how they had grown up together, did she feel that familiar sense of unease settle over her again.
She didn’t want to be pointed out to the crowd.
Mason helped her down from the stage. But when she reached their table, she realized that at least part of her fear had been for nothing.
Neither Aidan nor Zachary was still at the table.
She felt strangely deflated. She ought to feel relieved, but instead she was inexplicably…
Disappointed.
“I thought you quit,” Aidan commented, watching as Jonas lit up another cigarette.
Jonas gave him a glare. “I did. But being bugged by people like you wore away at my resolve and I started again,” Jonas said.
“Jonas, I found dried blood out at the plantation, and I collected a sample. It needs to be analyzed.”
“I’ll make sure the lab sees what they can do with it. But we both know, if it’s compromised enough, nothing will come from it.”
“I know that, but I’m hoping you’ll take this matter a little more seriously now,” Aidan said impatiently.
Jonas laid a hand on Aidan’s shoulder. “Look, we’re old friends. You were one of the best the Academy ever turned out. But…” He paused, shook his head and continued. “When Serena died, something happened to you. You have to get a grip, buddy.”
“Serena died three years ago. And now you tell me to get a grip on myself?”
“Just take it from me—we will do our best to analyze that blood. And while we’re waiting, cool down…In the meantime, you can’t go barging into the medical examiner’s office or calling the local homicide guy and just generally driving everyone crazy. Due process, okay?”
Aidan looked at him and nodded.
Jonas had asked him to come out back with him just after Aidan had noticed that Hal Vincent—who had been hanging in the back of the room—had made a sudden departure. He wondered if there was a connection. Maybe he really was making himself a local pariah.
He had headed straight for Jonas’s office after finding the blood, certain that he didn’t want to go back to Jon Abel and not at all sure Hal Vincent was in a mood to pay him any attention.
But he hadn’t done a damned thing tonight to make Hal walk out. He’d just taken a seat with his brother to hear the music.
“So,” Jonas said, looking at him, “stop following us around.”
“What?”
“You came here because…we hang out here, right?”
Aidan laughed. “Get over yourself, Jonas. I came here because my brother was asked to sit in with the band.”
“Oh.” Jonas stared at him. Then
he
laughed, too. “Oh.”
“You didn’t realize that was Jeremy up there?” Aidan asked.
Jonas shook his head sheepishly. “Sorry. I just saw you sitting there, like you were going to start interrogating the Montgomery girl who took care of Amelia.”
“No, the Montgomery girl, as you call her, is friends with Vinnie, the guy she just went up to sing with,” Aidan explained, realizing that because of this conversation, he’d missed hearing Kendall sing.
She’d definitely been a little drunk tonight, he thought. Maybe enough to make her say more of what she might be thinking.
“I’m not following you around. So chill.”
“I think I’ll head home anyway.”
“Your wife didn’t join you tonight.”
“She doesn’t join me every night,” Jonas said, sounding defensive. “I like to hang out with the guys sometimes.”
Aidan didn’t think he’d spoken with any reproach; maybe Jonas was suffering from a guilty conscience.
Jonas waved and started off down the alley toward Bourbon. If he’d been asked to walk a straight line, Aidan knew he wouldn’t have made it.
Aidan started back into the bar alone.
He should have expected it, he thought, when he saw Zach still at the table with Mason and no sign of Kendall Montgomery.
Aidan hesitated, but he knew where Kendall lived.
With a shrug, he headed back outside and started in that direction.
A headache had started knocking against her skull the minute Kendall had left the stage. She had quickly kissed Mason on the cheek and made a hasty departure.
Bourbon Street was no problem to traverse, despite several groups who were three sheets to the wind. But she cut over to Royal more quickly than she had intended. With her head pounding, she just wanted to get away from the crowds. To her amazement, she wound up disoriented and ended up close to Canal before realizing she was going in the wrong direction. She must have been even drunker than she realized, because she should have been able to walk home in her sleep.
She silently cursed Vinnie as she finally headed in the right direction. He had gotten her all upset with that surprise of his. On top of that, she couldn’t help but feel a little hurt. With the man plaguing her for assistance, she would have thought he could sit through her song, just to be polite. Then she cursed her own insecurity and forced Aidan Flynn out of her mind.
No going out tomorrow night. She was going straight home after work.
She was about a block from her house when she thought she heard someone calling her name.
She paused and looked back. Nothing. She looked around; she was already on a mostly residential block of Royal. Windows were closed; the streetlights flickered. She felt alone, chilled. A mule-drawn carriage full of tourists went by on the cross street, and she taunted herself for being an idiot. She had walked this way hundreds of times in her life. She’d never seen so much as a fistfight in this neighborhood.
She turned for home again, then became convinced that she heard footsteps following her.
She turned again, and again there was nothing. But the chill had returned, and this time there was no carriage passing by to provide the illusion that she wasn’t alone.
She quickened her pace, then thought she saw a shadow emerging from a narrow alleyway.
Instinct—and fear—took over.
She started to run.
K
endall heard someone call her name—loudly.
Loudly enough to carry down the street.
She stopped and turned, panting slightly, relieved to see that she wasn’t being hailed by a shadow but by a flesh-and-blood man. She saw him coming down the street and recognized him immediately, though from this distance, it was only his tall, broad-shouldered form she knew.
Was she crazy? Or had the shadow she thought she’d seen by the alley disappeared?
When Aidan Flynn reached her a moment later, she knew her heart was still pounding too quickly. “Were you calling my name before?” she asked him.
“No, just now. Why?” he asked, looking at her curiously.
“Must have been someone else,” she said. Her head was throbbing, and she didn’t want to accept the fact that he had hurt her feelings by ducking out earlier.
“What do you want?” she demanded.
“You never answered me,” he said.
“About what?”
“Dinner.”
“What?”
“Dinner. Whatever you’d like, wherever you’d like to go.”
“Out of the Quarter,” she said without thinking.
What the hell would have been wrong with, “Thanks, but no thanks?” she thought immediately.
“Sure. Out of the city entirely, if you like.”
“I can’t tell you anything helpful, you know,” she said, and was alarmed that she sounded almost as if she were pleading with him.
“Maybe. Maybe not.”
“You could at least try being polite to me, you know.”
He drew in a breath, looking away. “I guess I’m not known for my charm,” he said ruefully. “But, I swear, I
can
be courteous.”
“You know, I can afford to feed myself. I make a good living, even if you consider me to be a quack.”
“Do you think you can read the future?” he asked her.
“No,” she said flatly.
Then he smiled. She hated the smile. It didn’t just make him human. It made him ruggedly striking. Sexy and even charming.
She took a step back. She wasn’t about to be charmed by him.
He was ex-FBI, she reminded herself. He had, no doubt, been taught to be charming when necessary as an interrogation technique.
“You’re crazy, and you’re driving everyone else crazy,” she told him.
His smile deepened suddenly. “Let me see you the rest of the way home.”
“I live on the next block.”
“I know.”
They started walking, and Kendall remembered his earlier claim.
“You said you found blood?” she asked.
“On one of the gravestones,” he agreed. “Old blood,” he added, when she stopped and stared at him.
“How old?”
“I don’t know. I took some scrapings and brought the samples to Jonas.”
“Jonas the FBI guy who was there tonight?”
“Right. We’re old friends,” he told her.
They reached her front door. She hesitated, then slipped her key into the lock and looked up at him, praying he would go away.
He laughed. “Don’t worry. I’ll see you all the way in.”
“I’ve lived here a long time,” she told him. “I have nice neighbors.”
“I’m sure you do. But I’ll still see you in.”
She stepped into the hallway and unlocked the door to her apartment, relieved when he didn’t try to follow her in.
He did catch her arm before she could enter, though.
“Dinner? Tomorrow night?” he asked her.
“Yes, yes, I suppose. Just go away now, all right?”
“Sure,” he said and, smiling, released her arm and turned away.
She watched him go out the main door, heard the lock click automatically in his wake.
The world was still spinning and her headache was getting worse, but only one thought was plaguing her as she leaned against the door.
Damn, but she hated it when he smiled.
Impatient with herself, she noted that though the evening had begun early, it had gotten late. Well,
later,
since New Orleans’s standards of late had little to do with the rest of the world. It was ten o’clock, so at least she hadn’t gone through as much beer as quickly as she’d feared.
In the bathroom medicine cabinet, she found some aspirin. Swallowing a few, she remembered that she hadn’t eaten, either, and decided that a sandwich now might help avert a painful morning, so she quickly prepared a grilled cheese on rye, poured herself a mammoth iced tea and sat down to watch the television in her family room.
She shared bits of the grilled cheese with Jezebel, after which the cat slept lazily at her side, completely happy.
The drapes to the courtyard were open. As Kendall watched TV, she felt as if her peripheral vision was catching shadows. She gave up her attempt to watch the show and looked out toward the back. Unnerved, she stood up and pulled the drapes across the double French doors.
She was making herself crazy, she thought. Maybe she had started going crazy along with Amelia.
No. She had taken enough psychology classes to understand that emotions could easily cause the mind to play tricks. Fear fed on fear. A bit of uncertainty could undermine all logic.
She was going to bed, she decided firmly.
In her bedroom, she turned on the television to keep her company and fell asleep watching reruns.
She didn’t know if she started to dream because she’d been thinking so much about Amelia, or because she’d fallen asleep watching
The Addams Family
.
At first, it was a whimsical and fun dream. She was outside at the Flynn plantation, and she was so light that she almost floated as she moved. She glided up to the front door, where the knocker smiled, then giggled and said, “Ouch!” when she reached for it.
She realized she was dreaming and groaned, mocking herself. It was
Through the Looking Glass
all over again! She couldn’t even come up with an original dream.
The door opened on its own, beckoning her in, and she headed for the staircase. From the ballroom, she could hear singing, so she stopped to look in. Vinnie and the Stakes were playing, floating in mid-air. Vinnie waved and tried to get her to come sing with him. She shook her head and moved into the next room. The dream grew darker then. The room looked like a mad scientist’s lair. Someone in a lab coat was hanging bone pieces on a wire frame in the shape of a skeleton. The head was in place, and it was talking, empty eye sockets turned in Kendall’s direction.
She quickly slammed the door. Somehow she knew that she was supposed to go upstairs, so she forced herself to move on to the stairway.
When she looked up, there was a woman at the top of the stairway.
A woman in white.
And she was beckoning Kendall to follow.
Kendall didn’t want to, but she couldn’t stop herself from gliding upward. She couldn’t really see the woman’s face, but she heard her words.
“You have the diary!” The tone was accusing.
Kendall tried to jolt herself awake.
Yes, she had the diary, but she was planning to give it back. She just hadn’t finished reading it yet.
She wanted to scream. She wanted to wake up. Even though nothing overtly threatening had happened, she was terrified that something would happen to her if she didn’t—and didn’t they say that if you died in your dreams, you would die for real?
She felt a gentle touch. The woman in white was gone and now Amelia was there.
“They just need help,” she said. “We have to help them, Kendall. Don’t you see?”
There was a sudden scream in the night. A loud, horrified scream.
“If I’d only had the strength to help them,” Amelia said, shaking her head slowly.
Her touch on Kendall’s cheek felt so very real….
I have to wake up, Kendall told herself.
I have to wake up!
The awful scream came again.
Amelia’s image faded away, and the scream faded with her.
Kendall found herself falling, falling because the stairway had disintegrated to dust and there was nothing but a giant black abyss beneath her.
She woke with a start, covered in a sheen of sweat. For long moments she gasped, the dream still terrifyingly vivid in her mind.
The sound of the television pulled her back to reality. An infomercial had come on. Couples were expounding on the joys of an erectile dysfunction pill.
She leaned back, almost smiling at herself. She knew she should never drink more than one or two beers, at the most. She just couldn’t hold her liquor. She was all right; she was just combining thoughts of her recent life with visions from some of the more inventive authors she loved.
Everything made sense when she thought about it that way.
She started to go to sleep again, but she still wanted the TV on, so she flicked it to a channel that was showing old cartoons.
When she straightened her legs, getting comfortable, she felt something at the foot of the bed.
“Jezebel, you little rat. You’re scaring me,” she said, half laughing and half angry.
But even as she spoke, she saw Jezebel across the room, sleeping on one of the throw pillows Kendall had tossed onto the floor when she got into bed.
She frowned, then felt around under the comforter to find out what was in the bed with her.
She looked at what she’d found, then gasped and jumped back so fast that she slammed against the headboard.
It was the diary.
The diary she had taken from the Flynn house.
The diary that should still have been in her backpack.
Jonas was hiding something, Aidan thought.
An affair? Maybe.
But there was no reason why he should have been as defensive as he had been. Of course, he’d been drinking, and if he’d been drinking a lot, that alone might have made him feel paranoid.
Aidan didn’t know what kind of reaction he was going to get when he paid a visit to Jonas the following morning, but he knew he couldn’t sit idle.
He’d never worked in the office here, but he’d gotten help from the Bureau staff before. He knew that in a country full of various and competing law enforcement agencies, there were bound to be a few bad eggs. But in general, people who went into law enforcement did so because they wanted to uphold the law, because they believed in their country and its legal system, and wanted to be helpful. Still, due to the kinds of cases they worked, the FBI tended to be more guarded than most other agencies, other than Homeland Security, and they saw a threat in everything. That was what they were paid to do.
Aidan arrived at the office early on Wednesday morning. He asked to see Jonas Burningham, half expecting Jonas to try to evade him, just as Jon Abel had done. He’d brought in the vial of dried blood yesterday, and Jonas had sighed wearily, but he had taken it. Aidan was certain, however, that it hadn’t been given priority.
Jonas came out to the main reception area to shake his hand and ask him back to his office. Once there, he closed the door, took his seat behind the desk and rested his forehead on his palm. “What now? More blood? More bones? Did you dig up a whole body?”
“No.”
Jonas looked up suspiciously. “What are you here for, then? I hope you’re not about to give me a lecture on the pitfalls of Bourbon Street.”
“Why would I do that?”
“Because you’ve gotten strange.”
“I haven’t gotten strange.”
“You used to be thorough. But now you’re a pit bull.”
“Can’t help it. It’s my nature. And I didn’t come to torture you. I just wanted to see if you had any open missing-persons cases.”
Jonas stared at him. “Are you kidding me?”
“No.”
“Do you know how many people are still missing after the storm?”
Aidan shook his head. “I want recent cases. Women who might have been in this area or headed for this area when they disappeared.”
Jonas sighed.
“Come on, Jonas. Humor me.”
Jonas nodded slowly. Aidan had the feeling that he was going to help, not because Aidan was a good investigator, but because he wanted him to go away.
“I’ll call Hirshfield, my assistant, and ask him to get you the relevant files from the last year. Will that do?”
“That’ll be great. Thanks.”
Jonas didn’t use his phone to call his assistant; he left the room. Was he going to ask Hirshfield to filter the files he was going to let Aidan see? Why would he do that?
He was gone a long time. So long that Aidan began to suspect that he might have led him on just to ditch him somehow anyway. After all, he was under no obligation to give Aidan any help. Aidan’s relationship with the Bureau remained good, but once you were gone, you were off any kind of priority list. Friendship was all he had left.
Just when Aidan was about to give up and leave, Jonas returned. He seemed nervous. He ran a finger beneath his collar and handed a stuffed manila envelope to Aidan. “This is everything that might be helpful in any way. Everything.”
“Thanks, buddy.”
“So, Bourbon Street is your new hangout, too, huh?”
“I don’t really have a hangout.” Aidan hesitated. “Seems like folks
are
drawn to that bar.”
“One local frequents a place, others follow. Locals go there because they know they’ll find other locals there. That’s the way it goes. Or are you saying there’s something spooky going on? Shit, maybe you’re right. Maybe people
are
drawn there. Who the hell knows?” He changed the subject. “Are you going to move out to the house?”
“I hadn’t intended to. There’s a lot of work going on there. We hired a contractor after the engineer gave us a thumbs-up,” Aidan told him.
“Well, good luck with it.”
“Yeah, thanks.”
Aidan took the files with him back to his hotel, where he hesitated, then gave Jeremy a call. Odd, they were a close family, but they each had a different place in the city where they preferred to stay. He was at the Monteleone, which was family-owned and where the current boss had gone above and beyond for his employees after the storm. Jeremy preferred a small place on the other side of Jackson Square called the Provincial. Zach was especially fond of a certain bed-and-breakfast.
“Hey. How’s it going?” he asked, when his brother answered his cell phone.
“Well, I visited my friends at the police station,” Jeremy told him.