“Human decency demanded it?”

If she heard cynicism in her voice, Patti O’Shay didn’t show it. “Yes.”

Right. Like that happened every day. “Look, I appreciate you coming down here to help me. I really appreciate you listening and taking me seriously.”

“But?”

“But I don’t need your help anymore. Samson sealed the deal.”

“What deal is that, Yvette?”

“I’m out of here. Gone. No notice to the Hustle or anybody else.”

“And you think that’ll solve the problem?”

“Duh. The bastard won’t be able to find me.”

“It might solve your problem,” she corrected. “What about the next girl?”

“I’m supposed to care about the ‘next’ girl?”

“Don’t you?”

At the older woman’s tone, Yvette flushed. “Don’t give me that goody-goody crap. Because of me, Tonya was killed. Samson was poisoned. Seems it’s damn dangerous to be anywhere around me. I’d be worried if I were you.”

“I’m not scared. And I’m not going to run.”

“Big brave cop. Bully for you.”

She stood, went to her bedroom and knelt beside the bed. From underneath, she dragged a large suitcase. She opened it and inside was another, smaller one.

“Running solves nothing.”

“Says you.” She laid them side by side on the bed. “Seems to me it’ll keep me alive.”

She went to her dresser, opened the top drawer and scooped out the contents.

“Do you really think you can run from him?”

“I can try.”

“He’s obsessed with you. He’s twisted. A true psychopath. He won’t allow anyone or anything to get in the way of what he wants. Including you.”

“That makes no sense.”

“Do you think a madman like this ever makes sense? Everything he’s done, he’s justified to himself.”

“You’re in his way now,” she said defiantly. “Aren’t you scared?”

“I’m angry. And determined to stop him from hurting you or anybody else. To bring him to justice.”

“I’m not like you,” she said. “I’m scared. And I’ve had enough.”

She yanked open the second dresser drawer and rifled through its contents, tossing aside all but her favorites.

“If you stay, I promise you round-the-clock protection.”

“Sure you would.”

“I’d do it myself.”

“What’s in it for me besides possibly getting killed?”

“What do you want out of it?”

A new life. A way to wipe the slate clean and start over from scratch.

Instead, she said, “What can you afford?”

“How about doing it to catch a murderer? To stop this freak from hurting someone else?”

“Put my life on the line to save some stranger?”

“Basically, yes.”

“I’m outta here.”

“How does fifty thousand dollars sound?”

Yvette stopped packing. She looked at the other woman. “You have fifty thousand dollars?”

“I do. Part of an insurance payoff.”

“I’ll want to see a bank statement. Current.”

“No problem.”

Yvette narrowed her eyes. “Half up front.”

“Ten percent.”

“Twenty,” she countered. “And protection-24/7.”

“You’ve got it.” Patti held out her hand. “Deal?”

Yvette stared at her outstretched hand. She’d get ten thousand, up front. If it got too crazy, she could take off.

Ten grand richer.

“Deal,” she said, and clasped Patti’s hand. “But I have one question I need answered first.”

“Then ask it.”

“Why’s it so important to you that you catch this Handyman guy?”

The woman’s expression tightened, becoming fierce. “Because he killed my husband.”

42

Tuesday, May 8, 2007

12:15 p.m.

Patti set her plan into motion. She had promised Yvette twenty-four-hour protection, and there was only one way to keep that promise-to personally provide that protection.

To do that she had to be independent of the NOPD. The chief of police, stand-up guy though he was, would not allow one of his captains to launch her own personal investigation.

Chief Howard was a solid cop. An African-American born and raised in New Orleans, he was passionate about the community and a strong supporter of his sworn officers. That said, he didn’t coddle and always expected one hundred and ten percent.

Patti had called ahead; he was expecting her. His secretary had notified him that she had arrived.

“Go in, Captain O’Shay,” the woman said. “He’s ready for you.”

Patti thanked her, then took a deep breath. She had made a deal that would cost her her nest egg.

And most likely her career, as well.

If it led to Sammy’s killer, it would be worth it.

“Chief?” she said, tapping on his door, then stepping into his office. “Thanks for making time for me.”

He smiled. “I always have time for you, Captain.”

“I’m requesting a leave of absence.”

He didn’t blink and she wondered if he had been expecting this. She certainly wouldn’t be the first ranking officer since Katrina who had requested leave. And considering her personal circumstances, it was more surprising that she hadn’t requested one before now.

“May I ask why?”

“I need a break. Sammy’s death, the aftermath of the storm, it all took more of a toll on me than I realized.”

“Until now.”

“Yes.”

He studied her a long moment. “Odd choice of timing. You have a suspect in jail.”

She could use Franklin’s arrest to justify her timing, explain that with relief had come emotional exhaustion, but she just wasn’t that good a storyteller. And even if she was, she suspected he would see through her.

She looked him straight in the eyes. “I still have strong doubts Franklin’s the one.”

“You can try to convince me of that.”

Not from inside the rule book. “I don’t have anything to convince you with, Chief. I’m going on my gut here.”

“When?” he asked, not challenging her opinion, moving forward instead.

“Effective as soon as I have a chance to notify my team. I’m shooting for the end of the day.”

“How long?”

“A month at least. Not that much considering the events of the past two years.”

“Can’t do without you a month. Two weeks.”

If he got wind of what she was up to, she doubted he’d want her back at all. “Three.”

“Done.” His cell phone vibrated; he glanced at the display but didn’t pick up. “Who’s your ranking detective?”

“Sciame.”

The chief nodded. “Good cop. Steady. You think he’s up to filling your shoes in your absence?”

“Absolutely.”

“Make it happen, Captain O’Shay.”

He answered his cell, signaling an end to their meeting. Patti exited the office, her mood vacillating between exhilaration and despair.

There was no backing out now. She was neck deep in it.

Patti made her announcement at the end of the day. Minutes before, she had informed Tony Sciame. He stood beside her now, ready to take over.

When she had finished, complete silence ensued. She moved her gaze over the faces of the men and women under her command. Their expressions ranged from surprise to sympathy to anxiety.

She settled her gaze regretfully on Spencer. He looked hurt that she hadn’t included him, tipped him beforehand. She should have; their relationship warranted it.

Not this time, Spencer. This time she had to go it alone.

“Are there any questions?” she asked.

A detective notorious for cracking wise broke the silence. “Have you lost your friggin’ mind, Captain? Leaving Sciame in charge? Can our budget support that many doughnuts?”

“Kiss my ass, Chuckles,” Tony shot back. “Then show a little respect for your superiors.”

Grinning, “Chuckles” flipped Tony the bird while a ripple of laughter moved through the group.

Patti hid the fact that she appreciated the two detectives breaking the tension. “I have complete confidence in Detective Sciame. I wouldn’t leave him in charge if I didn’t. In addition, he and I will communicate daily about new and ongoing investigations.” She smiled slightly. “I’m taking time off, not moving to Siberia. Any other questions?”