Revenge (24 page)

Vic entered the vehicle, closed the door, and sat next to Cody.

“An old factory was abandoned and deemed unsuitable after Katrina,” Luc continued. “Dumond bought it and the land surrounding it. There's been no indication he's been using it for anything. From the satellite images I was able to pull up, it still appears deserted. Except one of the dated photos shows a black car sitting behind the building.”

“When was that?” Heath asked.

“A year ago.” Luc handed a printed copy of the image to Heath. “Something is going on there. I'm waiting for my hacker to get back to me with a real-time image of the place. If anyone is there, we'll see vehicles.”

“Are we even sure he has Remy?” Cody couldn't believe they remained so calm while she was coming apart at the seams. “All we know is that he took Kim.”

“She's right.” Heath rubbed his bristled jaw. “We're going off the assumption Dumond had Remy taken.”

Luc leaned forward. “Then it begs the question, who is Alphonse? He first appeared—”

“In seventy-nine. Oh, my God.” Vic buried her face in her hands then scrubbed her face. “Why didn't I put it together before?”

“What are you talking about?” Cody demanded.

“I found a rape report in the archives, right after LeBeau showed up at my place. It was the first and only mention of Alphonse we found.” She grasped Cody's shoulder. “Do you know what year Kim was born?”

The blood drained from Cody's face. Her heart cried out as the possibility sank in. “Same year as me, seventy-nine. She was a few months older.”

Horror twisted Vic's features. She pressed her hands against the top of her head and moaned. “The rape victim . . . no.”

“Vic, when was it filed?” Luc asked.

Her head wagged back and forth, and she choked on a sob. Cody touched her arm, drew back when Vic flinched, then grasped both wrists. Gently, Cody dragged Vic's arms down and twined their fingers.

“It was your momma?”

Swallowing, Vic avoided eye contact. “I vaguely remember my brother,” she sniffed, “and my aunt trying to look for her. I heard them with the cops. I wasn't supposed to know.” She dragged the cuff of her sleeve under her nose. “When they found her, I was forbidden to see her. I don't know why I forgot.”

“Suppressed memories.” She squeezed Vic's hand. “We all have them.”

“Then it's true.” Vic's watery gaze met hers. “Paul Dumond is Alphonse. That damn bastard raped my mother, killed his own daughter, and will do the same to Kim.”

Cody looked at Heath. “He has Remy.”

Heath nodded. “To rescue them means we have to do this the hard way.”

She swallowed, her breath catching in her throat. Hard way meant breaking in. Shooting people.

“It'll be a maze in there.” Luc took the aerial photo and examined it. “They could have either one of them in any part of the building. If I were Dumond, I'd keep them separated.”

“That's how we plan it,” Heath said.

“We'll need to bring in backup. I should alert my command,” Vic said.

“No,” Cody barked. “No cops. If we bring them in, it'll warn Dumond.”

“Cody's right. We have to go off the grid for this,” Heath said. “LeBeau and I can't afford to have word get back to our command what we did. Remy's already in hot water.”

“If we die?” Vic asked.

“We don't let that happen.”

Stopping in front of one of the loading bay doors, Paul waited as it rolled upward. When it was open far enough for the car to safely pass under, he pulled forward. The door came down behind him as he parked a few yards inside the building.

Jason emerged from the shadows the moment Paul exited the car. “Where is she?”

“In the backseat. Take her to the manager's office and secure her.” Paul removed the pistol the young woman had threatened him with and handed it to Jason. “Check her for any ID. She couldn't even handle this thing.”

His second-in-command's eyes narrowed as he examined the pistol. “She might bring more trouble.”

That part he knew. Was she the proof Jared Savard had against him? Had the sadistic cop discovered her and found a way to prove who Paul really was? Hopefully LeBeau had ripped the bastard's heart out and left him to bleed dry. “Get her out of there.”

Handing the pistol back to him, Jason did as he was ordered. With the woman draped over his shoulder in a fireman's carry, he hauled her out of the loading dock and entered the factory floor.

Paul hit the unlock button on his keychain for the car's trunk and circled behind. Lifting the lid, he peered into the dim interior then grabbed a small, clear plastic box. There was one way to prove the woman's claims. He popped the box latch and extracted the items he needed for the test. Replacing the box in the car trunk, he closed the lid with a smack and strode out of the docking bay.

After six years, the place still reeked of machine oil, turpentine, and paint. Joining in were the more recent odors of decay from the vegetation left to grow and camouflage the old factory's use. It had served its purpose well.

He paused, letting his gaze wander along the factory wall to the closed door in the corner parallel to him. The room used to be the employee break room. Behind that steel wall was the ultimate thorn in his side, waiting like a trussed pig destined for slaughter. Remy LeBeau had done everything in his power to expose Paul, never knowing who he was after. He'd walked away after that first attempt on LeBeau's life. Trying to kill the man again would have only brought more scrutiny on himself. So he dumped LeBeau off on an
old friend
and bid him good riddance, until he could get around to finishing him off later. What he hadn't expected was the extensive damage Katrina had wrought on New Orleans and the demands put on him as DA. Then Paul did the one thing he'd never been known to do—he forgot about Remy LeBeau still being alive. Eventually he hoped he'd get lucky and someone would kill the bastard. No such luck.

Even dire warnings to stay away hadn't work. This time he'd make damn sure the slippery swamp rat bled out for good right in front of him.

He moved to the metal stairwell that led to the manager's office above the factory floor. LeBeau's death would come soon enough. Paul climbed the steps to the top, then entered the office where he found Jason securing the woman to an exposed beam in the ceiling. She hung there with her arms raised above her lolling head, making her chest thrust out.

Jason lingered in front of her, his gaze glued to her breasts.

Paul smiled at his twisted thought. Maybe he'd let Jason have her, relieve some pent up sexual energy before killing her. If the test proved this woman was Paul's daughter, then she'd be like her mother, a satisfying means to an end. “Bide your time. There's work to be done before pleasure.”

A gleam of satisfaction flickered in Jason's dark eyes. He moved back to allow Paul to get close to the still unconscious woman.

Flipping back the cap over the syringe needle, Paul inserted the needle into the tender crook of her elbow. He withdrew enough blood for the test and removed the needle, ignoring the bead of blood on her pale skin. He laid out the rest of the testing materials and injected some of the blood into a clear plastic tube.

His was a rare blood type. One that proved beneficial in a lot of situations, like refuting claims of paternity with some of his conquests' offspring. The trouble he found himself in with this woman—if she truly was Valérie Slater's daughter—was it could be probable. He'd kept Valérie for days, raping her over and over until he grew sick of her. Not once had he stopped to think about protecting himself from the repercussions of a child.

“Sir.” Jason held up a badge. “I found this on her. No other ID.”

“She's a cop?”

“I don't think so. This is a badge for a Dallas detective.” Jason moved to a laptop sitting on the lone chair in the office. “I'll check the number.”

Dallas detective, huh? How did she get her hands on that badge?

Paul turned back to his blood type testing and froze.
Son of a bitch.
Her blood type was B negative. He spun back to the woman and crossed the floor in three long strides. Pinching her cheeks in his hand, he held up her face to examine it.

It was all here. The proof before him. This woman was his biological daughter.

“This ain't good.”

Paul released her face roughly and turned to Jason. “What?”

“This badge belongs to Detective Heath Anderson. That's LeBeau's partner.”

“How did she get—shit!”

“If the partner knows she's gone, he'll come for her. LeBeau's woman is with him. I saw them together when Savard attacked her.”

Damn LeBeau for bringing this all down on his head, again. “They're probably on their way here now. That's too many people who might know who I am.”

“Sir, I suggest we call in our men who live in the area, just to be on the safe side,” Jason said. “We already ran a risk by exposing me to Victoria Slater. If she is further involved with this Detective Anderson and these two women with him, then you're compromised.”

“That can't happen. Call in those we can trust with my identity.” Paul strode to the dangling woman. “I want men ruthless enough to shoot a woman and easily eliminated if need be.” He grabbed her chin and studied her. “Keep this one alive. She'll be good as bait and other things.” He looked over his shoulder at his second-in-command. “Once the men are set up, we visit LeBeau. His rescuers won't find him alive.”

• • •

While waiting for his captor to return, Remy had dozed off. A loud whack startled him awake. He blinked and shook his head. He was still alone in this hidey-hole room. Where the sound came from he wasn't sure.

His body had gone numb from the lack of movement and sitting in the same position for too long. Flexing his fingers, the shoulder wound protested when his muscles clenched. Remy winced at the pain radiating down his arm and up his neck. He turned his head slightly to examine his shoulder.

The shooter didn't bother to bandage the wound. Eventually the blood had coagulated, though each time Remy moved, he disturbed the scabbing process. The bullet was a through and through, missing vital arteries, but it felt like it had nicked bone as it passed. If he sat here untreated much longer, there was a high likelihood of infection setting in and the need for surgery to mend the bones. What did it matter? Alphonse was going to kill him and have his body dumped in the bayous.

Another whack made him jerk. Remy strained to hear what was going on outside of his cell. The walls were too thick to hear anything beyond loud noises.

Suddenly the handle rattled and the lock clicked. He straightened his spine and tilted his chin up as the hinges creaked. The door opened wide enough for his captor to enter. In the shadows behind him something shifted yet remained hidden.

Remy's gaze followed his captor's progression across the floor until he took position a few feet to the right. The man stood with his hands clasped in front of him and his legs hip width apart. He gave Remy a wicked grin.

“Where is he?”

The man's eyes flicked to the door, then back. “Waiting.” He turned to fully face Remy. “First, he wants to know, is Savard dead?”

“What do you care if that demon-lover is still breathing?” Remy asked the shadow.

“If you failed to kill him, then we must finish it.”

Remy kept his focus on the gaping maw. “Like you took care of me?” He snorted. If he was going to die, he might as well go down burning his bridges. “I won't give you the satisfaction of knowing one way or the other.”

Bracing for the blow he knew was coming, he grunted when the fist landed against his cheek. This time it felt like a tooth had been loosened. Remy ran his tongue over his lips, tasting more blood, and lifted his head.

The shadow solidified into the figure of a man. He lingered in the patch of darkness right outside the door. Squinting, Remy could make out the suit and expensive shoes. Obviously Alphonse liked to show off his status.

“This time, answer him.”

Remy scowled at the man next to him. “Go piss on yourself.”

Hatred screwed the man's features. He raised his fist to land another blow.

“Enough, Jason.”

Jason dropped his arm, but Remy barely noticed. He'd heard that voice before and tried to register its familiarity, but the punch he took left a steady thrum in his head. The one named Jason backed away.

Remy gaped as the figure walked out of the shadows and into the dim lighting. His chest constricted, strangling him. He choked out the word. “Paul?”

An evil smirk crossed his ex-father-in-law's mouth. “Ahh, it's so good to finally end this damn charade with you.”

“You're Alphonse?”

“Baffling, isn't it?” He strolled further into the room, clasping his hands behind his back. “I always wondered how you would react once you learned the truth.” He pursed his lips together, “Hmmm, not quite what I was hoping for.”

“You . . . you had . . . Marie?”

“Knew nothing about me.” Paul gave a sick kind of thoughtful look. “Then again, she was never my daughter.”

Had he not been strapped to the chair, Remy would've collapsed. All this time, all the pain and suffering, had been caused by the one man he thought he'd called family. Why did Paul help make him disappear if he was Alphonse?

“Questions beating around in that head of yours?” Paul smoothed his tie and then he fingered the diamond tie clip. “Don't bother asking them. Yes, Marie was not my daughter. Her mother's greatest sin benefited me more than I imagined. Why did I let Savard have his sick, twisted way with her and never pay him back? Because you, backwater bayou boy, gave me the perfect out for an untimely problem. And, finally, why keep you alive?” Paul bent down to Remy's level. “Knowing you were dying on a daily basis with the knowledge that you lived and she didn't was enough.” His face twisted into a dark sneer. “This time, however, you
are
going to die.”