Revenge (23 page)

“It's possible,” Heath said. “Corrupt public officials have been around since the dawn of time.”

“That's ridiculous. If Paul and Alphonse are the same man, why did he allow his daughter's murderer to walk free all this time? Why would he go to all that trouble to make Remy disappear and not finish him off later?” Cody shook her head and turned to leave the room. “They can't be the same man.” Her gaze landed on the spot where Kim had been, and she froze. “Where's Kim?”

Nausea slammed Cody square in the gut. Both she and Heath bolted from the room and skidded to a halt in the empty entryway. The nausea rose into Cody's throat. She hurried to the front door and flung it open.

Birds pecked the ground where Heath's truck should have been.

“Shit.” he spit the word with enough vehemence to make Cody cringe. “Where would she go?”

The realization sickened her further. “She's going to face Paul Dumond.”

• • •

Once he exited the meeting hall, one of the new interns approached him. The younger man's gaze darted to their trailing entourage. What did this upstart want?

“Sir, could I speak to you privately?”

Tamping down his irritation at the interruption into his moment, he addressed the officials flanking him. “Gentlemen, apparently urgent business demands my attention.” He turned to the intern and waved him onward.

The kid nodded vigorously, about-faced—making his rubber-soled shoes squeak—and hurried down the long hall.

His own Italian leather shoes clicked against the city hall floor as he followed the intern. He drew in the scents of wood polish, stale coffee, and sour grapes—the odor of fear. One corner of his mouth tilted up. He soaked up the nervous energy of the man in front of him. The young ones always cowered before him and his reputation.

The kid stepped into a richly carpeted and furnished waiting room, allowed him to pass before closing the door.

He recognized this room. It belonged to one of the judges, a man he'd butted heads with on numerous occasions in his career. A man who despised him.

“Why are we in here?”

“Sorry, sir, but this was the only unoccupied and discreet place I could think of to use for this meeting.”

“What meeting?”

The intern cleared his throat and fiddled with the end of his tie. “A woman arrived just before you finished with the press conference and demanded to speak with you. I told her you weren't available and tried to send her away. She said she had information on the death of your daughter.”

Fury rose in him like a fireball. “You're wasting my time with this nonsense? If she truly has information on my daughter's death, she can take it to the police.” He spun on his heel and took a step to leave.

“Sir. She said you needed to hear what she said. If you didn't, she'd expose the truth to the media.”

He froze. Who was this woman that she'd threaten him? Slowly, he rotated. “Where is she?”

The intern pointed at the judge's private office. “I asked her to wait there.”

Might as well get this over with and learn what this woman knew. If she were a threat, then he'd have a face to go with the person he needed to eliminate.

“Very well. I'll see to this matter. You remain outside and detour anyone who might want to enter. I'd like to keep this as private as I can.”

Nodding, the intern hurried past him and slipped outside.

The moment the door clicked shut, he removed his private cell phone and hit the redial button. While the other line rang, he eyed the closed door. What would he find waiting for him? Another desperate woman he seduced looking for a pay-out?

On the third ring the call connected. “Sir?”

“I've been detained. Make our guest comfortable.”

“Already done.”

“This shouldn't take too long. Expect me within the hour.” He ended the call and stashed the cell in the inside pocket of his suit jacket. Adjusting the shirt and tie, he approached the door. His public persona slipped into place, he opened the door and stepped inside.

The woman stood facing the floor-to-ceiling bookshelves. Silky, dark brown hair hung to the middle of her back and curled at the ends. She was tall and trim, wearing a pale green sleeveless blouse, white slacks, and white leather sandals. Her bearing showed elegance.

His blood stirred. This might not be such a bad meeting after all. “You asked to see me?”

Gradually, she turned.

As if someone had socked him in the chest with a baseball bat, his breath left his lungs in a rush. His leg muscles quaked, threatening to make his knees buckle. He was staring at a ghost.

A spark flared in her blue eyes—eyes so like his. Her red lips parted. “Hello, Daddy.”

Years he'd spent building his empire. Weeding out those who would topple him and keeping everyone—except for one—in the dark about his true identity. Now he faced a problem he'd not made contingencies for.

“Who are you?”

She blinked, then with languid motions, crossed her arms. “Hmm, seems my mother did her due diligence in keeping me a secret from you.”

Her mother? This woman looked exactly like a dead woman. The mirror image of Valérie Slater.

His blood cooled and gelled in his veins. Could it be possible? Did Valérie birth another child? How? Anxiety robbed him of his thoughts.

Shifting her stance, the young woman glided to the judge's tall, leather chair. She placed her hands on the backrest and gripped it. “Trying to process this?”

“You didn't answer me. Who are you?”

“I think we'll save that answer for later. Just know that I know who you are.”

“Obviously. How you could ever think that I'm your father is ludicrous.”

She smirked. “Is it now? Do you forget how procreation happens?”

The bitch! He suppressed his anger. She was baiting him. No reason to lose his senses.

“I'm well aware of how that happens, dear.”

“
Don't
call me dear.” She released the chair. It swiveled halfway, slamming into the desk.

Temper. He could use this to his advantage. “You asked for this meeting. What do you expect to accomplish?” He took a few steps toward the desk. “What is it you hope to learn by seeing me?”

“Stay where you are.” One of her hands disappeared behind the chair.

He halted, inches from the edge of the desk. She had two means of escape, through the door behind him, or through the door leading into what could be an occupied room. Either way she was trapped. Still, that hidden hand created a niggling of worry in the back his mind.

“I did what I expected to accomplish.” Her eyes narrowed. “You now know I exist. As to what I hoped to learn, that's simple. You're going to tell me, Paul Dumond, what dirty little secrets you've been hiding about what you did to Valérie Slater.”

He laughed at the absurdity of this conversation. “I have no idea what you're getting at. I did nothing to Valérie Slater.”

“Your reaction when I turned around says differently.” The young woman's features hardened. “I've seen that look before on someone who'd thought they were looking at the ghost of a dead woman.”

“I don't see where you're going with this. Anyone who has lived in New Orleans all of their life knows about the Slaters. I'm the DA, I know about the case. I've seen the pictures. So, pardon me if I did think she'd come back.”

“Liar. I know a bullshitter when I see one, lawyers being the worst there is.”

“Young lady, do you know what you're doing?”

She seemed distracted at his question, so he moved quickly. Rounding the desk, he was at her side in a flash. As he reached to grab her shoulders, a solid object pressed into his midsection. His gaze darted down and he stiffened at the sight of a handgun resting against a good place to cause the most damage.

“Touch me, and I pull the trigger.”

Damn it. That was the reason she hid her hand. Paul met her stone-cold eyes. Maybe this woman was his child. “Shooting me will only bring you more trouble. There are people all over this place.”

“Funny thing about private chambers. The rooms are soundproof.”

He resisted the wince. She was right. If she shot him, no one would hear. Though if she left the way he came in, it would alert the intern waiting outside. He glanced at the weapon in her hand. She kept the thing steady, but the way she held it spoke of inexperience. Untrained shooters worried him more than the experts.

The clock was ticking. He needed to get to the warehouse. If he didn't arrive, Jason would go through with the plan. Paul refused to miss that.

What if he convinced this woman to come with him? He could link Jason's phone with the car's Bluetooth system, alerting his man to the trouble and prepare to detain the woman. Paul could get to the matter of her paternity and eliminate the one man who caused him the most trouble.

“Let's continue our discussion somewhere more private.”

“Why would I leave a public building to go with you to a place I might not return from?”

Not as stupid as he thought. He'd have to overpower her. The soundproof room would work to his advantage more than hers.

“What do you suggest? I'm due to be somewhere and if I don't arrive when I said, people will be looking for me.”

When she adjusted her grip on the gun, her finger left the trigger guard. His right arm swept between their bodies and knocked the gun aside. Shock registered on her face the instant before his left fist smashed into it. Age did nothing to diminish his strength. Many had underestimated his prowess, and some regretted having to experience it, as this woman did. Knocked unconscious, she crumpled. Paul caught her before she hit the floor.

The gun thumped to the carpet. Bending down while keeping her body propped against his, he picked up the weapon, noting that the safety was still on. He'd feared this woman for nothing. After tucking the weapon into his waistline, he hoisted her into his arms.

It was a trick to hold her and open the doors, but he managed it well enough. When Paul stepped outside of the chambers waiting room, he startled the intern.

“What happened?”

“It seems she's not feeling well and passed out.”

“I'll call an ambulance.”

“No. I'll drive her to the hospital. Just help me get her to my car.”

“Certainly.” The intern moved toward the main part of the building.

“Ah, let's go out the back way. I don't think she'd like for anyone to see her in this condition. There are reporters about.” Paul dipped his chin down to look sternly at the intern. “I don't need bad publicity at the moment.”

“Right.” The kid hurried to a passageway that led from the judge's chambers to his private parking lot.

Once outside the building, the intern hurried to pull Paul's car around. The woman stirred in his arms. She wouldn't remain comatose much longer. He had ketamine in the car that would keep her under a little longer.

When the intern pulled up, Paul hurried to strap the woman into the backseat. He dismissed the assistant and climbed into the driver's seat. He drove a few blocks, then parked in a secluded area where he knew no cameras would catch him. Glancing in the rearview mirror, he saw the woman's eyes fluttering. Quickly, he removed the ketamine bottle and syringe from the console compartment and filled the tiny syringe with a low dose.

Paul exited the car and flung open her door. Her eyes widened, and she cried out, her arms flailing. He caught one arm and pinned it against her body, then smashed her against the seat. She sobbed, struggling against him. He felt nothing for her as he inserted the needle into her neck and plunged the drug home.

Seconds ticked past, and her struggling weakened. Finally, she slid limp-bodied to the side. Tossing the syringe away, Paul adjusted his clothing, smoothed down his hair, and closed the car door.

Back in the driver's seat, he paused before putting the car in gear to peer at the woman's slumped reflection in the rearview mirror. If she truly was his daughter, then he had a bigger problem than Remy LeBeau.

• • •

“I don't see her.”

Cody clamped her lip between her teeth. What was Kim thinking confronting Paul Dumond on her own? Now they had to search for her, and in the meantime they were losing precious minutes to locate Remy. They found Heath's truck in the City Hall parking lot. After a quick search Heath discovered his badge and one of his sidearms is missing.

Kim had walked right through security with a weapon unhindered.

“I see Vic.” Heath took hold of Cody's arm and escorted her through the flow of people moving about the building.

Vic was shaking her head and her lips moved continuously. As they drew within earshot, Cody heard a mantra of “shits.” “Dumond's intern told me he just left here with a woman who matches Kim's description. Said she fell ill and passed out. Dumond was taking her to the hospital.”

Fear seized Cody in a death grip. “That's the last place he'd take her.”

“We have no idea where he's going.” Vic planted one hand on her hip and slid the other over her hair. “I'm running out of ideas here.”

“We're not out yet.” Heath spun, dragging Cody with him, and marched out of the building.

Luc had remained in his Escalade in the parking lot while they searched the building. When Heath approached the vehicle, Luc popped the locks and pushed open a passenger side door.

“She's gone?” he asked.

“Both of them.” Heath climbed inside. “What did you pull up?”

Cody followed Heath into the SUV and plopped on the floor. Luc had cleared out the Escalade's backseats and replaced them with shelves of his equipment. She couldn't understand why he didn't just use a utility van.

“Five years ago Paul Dumond made an odd purchase.”