“Doral. He was here when I got home from the club. Like you, he seems to think that Honor’s kidnapper would call a time out and let her contact me.”

“I don’t need your sarcasm.”

“And I don’t need you implying that if I knew what had happened to Honor and Emily I’d be standing here disliking you with every fiber of my being. I’d be out doing something to bring them safely back. Which begs the question, why aren’t you out there searching for them instead of stinking up my house with your narrow-minded, judgmental self-righteousness?”

So much for civility.

He bristled. “Can you think for one nanosecond that I care more about insulting you than I do about the welfare of my son’s widow and child, the only family I have left?” Tori understood exactly where he was coming from. Her concern for Honor and Emily overrode her hatred of him. Having had her outburst, she backed down. “No, Stan, I don’t think that at all. I know you love them.” In your overbearing and possessive fashion, she was tempted to add, but didn’t. “You must be going through hell.”

“To put it mildly.”

“Why don’t you sit down? Can I get you anything? Water? Soft drink? Stiff drink?”

He almost smiled before catching himself. “No. Thanks.” He didn’t sit, but stood in the center of her living room, looking ill at ease.

“I love them, too, you know,” she said softly. “How can I help? What do you know that the media doesn’t?”

“Nothing. Not really.”

He told her about his conversation with Doral and Deputy Crawford. “The house was a wreck. Crawford seemed more interested in knowing what might be missing from it, as if the fact that Honor and Emily were missing were secondary.”

“He’s a deputy sheriff in a backwater parish. Is he up to the task of getting them back in one piece?”

“I hope so. Of course the FBI is on the case, too. They’ve also called in assistance from other parishes and the New Orleans P.D.” He took a turn around the room, but she could tell he was preoccupied.

“Something is bothering you. What?”

He turned back to her. “It may be nothing.” For several seconds, he wrestled with the decision to air his concern, then asked a seemingly unrelated question. “Have you ever tucked Emily in for the night?”

“As recently as two weeks ago. Honor had me out for burgers on the grill. We put Emily down, then kicked back and killed a bottle of wine.”

By telling him that, she was hitting below the belt, because he considered her a bad influence on Honor.

From the moment they were introduced, he’d regarded her as a slut, unsuitable friend material for the daughter-in-law of Stanley Gillette. Which, from Tori’s standpoint, was just too effing bad. She and Honor’s friendship had been forged when they were girls, and it had endured despite the divergent paths their lives had taken.

She admired Honor’s way of life, but she didn’t envy it. Not for her was the home-and-hearth scene. Marrying your high school sweetheart wasn’t her idea of hot romance. Eddie had been an excellent husband and father, and she had liked him for loving Honor and making her happy. His death had been a tragedy.

But Stan kept him alive and present to the point where Honor felt guilty if she as much as contemplated dating. That had been one topic they’d discussed over that excellent bottle of Pinot Noir.

Not for the first time, Tori had urged Honor to start going out, to meet new people, specifically men. “Your period of grieving has been twice the accepted time. You need to kick up your heels, and I mean that in the most literal sense. What’s the holdup?”

“It would break Stan’s heart if I began dating,” Honor had replied wistfully.

Tori had argued that she wasn’t married to Stan, and who cared what he thought anyway.

Apparently Honor did. Because she was letting Stan prevent her from having a future. He was keeping her shackled to the past and to a husband who was dead and buried.

But that was an issue for another day. Today, they had to deal with one much more pressing. “What about tucking Emily in?” she asked.

“She always sleeps with two things.”

“Her bankie and Elmo.”

“They weren’t in her bed this morning.” While Tori processed that, he continued. “They weren’t in Honor’s bed either. I didn’t see them anywhere.”

“A kidnapper who let Em take her bedtime pals along? Hmm.” She thought back to Doral’s insinuation that the supposed kidnapping might not have been that at all. What was Honor into?

As though reading her mind, Stan said, “I believe in keeping confidences.”

She didn’t touch that.

“I know how close Honor is to you. I don’t understand the friendship. I don’t approve of it. But I respect it.”

“Okay.”

“But these are critical circumstances, Victoria.”

His use of her full name underscored how critical the circumstances were. As if she needed him to emphasize that to her.

“If Honor has confided to you—”

“That she’s involved with a man named Lee Coburn? Is that what you’re waltzing around? Save the dance steps, Stan. The answer is no. Honor doesn’t confide in me every thought and feeling she has, but I think I would know if she was seeing someone. Hell, I’d be celebrating it. But if she knew this man at all, I swear to you that I’m unaware of it.”

He received her answer with characteristic stoicism. He coughed behind his fist, indicating to her that there was more on his mind. “Crawford asked Doral a lot of questions about Eddie. Crawford seems to be working under the delusion that there’s a link to him in all this.”

“I guess that explains why Doral asked me about it.”

“What did Doral ask you?”

“If Honor had recently revealed a secret about Eddie.” She shrugged. “I accused him of being high.”

“Then there’s no such secret?”

She gaped at him for several seconds, then looked around her familiar living room, almost expecting to see writing on the walls that would explain to her why everyone seemed to have lost their minds. When she came back to him, she said, “Stan, I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“I won’t tolerate any negative implications about my son.”

“The deputy’s implications were negative?”

“Not precisely. But it sounds to me as though he’s trying to draw a connection between Eddie and what happened at Sam Marset’s warehouse on Sunday night. That’s preposterous. I don’t know why Coburn sought out Honor and turned her house upside down, but both he and Crawford are mistaken if they think Eddie was involved in anything…”

Tori supplied the word he couldn’t bring himself to speak. “Illegal.” She waited; Stan said nothing. “I agree with you. Eddie was a Boy Scout, a model citizen, an honest cop. So what are you worried about?”

“I’m not.”

“Could’ve fooled me.” She folded her arms beneath her breasts and assessed him closely. “A team of wild horses couldn’t have dragged you into the home of the scarlet woman of Tambour. But here you are in my den of iniquity asking questions that make no sense to me, but obviously do to you. And to Doral.”

He remained stubbornly tight-lipped.

She continued. “Doral’s brother was killed this morning. Your daughter-in-law and grandchild are missing. Yet this alleged secret, involving a man who’s been dead for over two years, has got the two of you barging in on me when you should be out there overturning every stone in search of my friend and her little girl. What gives, Stan?”

Without a word, he strode to the front door and opened it.

“Wait!” She joined him at the threshold. The look he gave her would curdle milk. She didn’t back down from it, but she moderated her tone. “I don’t give a rat’s ass what you think of me. In fact, I rather enjoy ruffling your American eagle feathers. But I love Honor. I love Emily. I want them back, whole and sound and safe.”

He remained rigid and unmoved, but he didn’t storm out.