Sister of a Sinner Page 15

  Camp Love Letter kids moved around the property, some staring at the mass of cars gathered by the house, others oblivious, while being herded to activities by the high school and college students the Billodeauxs hired to help out since their own family members had thinned. Inside the big house, Junior witnessed the Billodeaux equivalent of going to the mattresses Godfather style.

  The giant coffee urns used for parties stood on the kitchen counter. A glimpse into the formal dining room revealed the large table covered by platters of cold cuts, fixings, and baskets of bread and rolls. A few bagels and Danish leftover from breakfast remained on a tray. His mother bent over the stove to place a huge casserole of Mexican lasagna into the oven. Her hands wobbled. Strangers in dark suits sat at her kitchen table along with one man he knew, Tony Ancona, the dark circles of fatigue showing under his eyes despite his Italian complexion. He’d added a dark jacket to his rumpled clothing of the night before and cradled a big mug of coffee in his hands. For the moment, Junior ignored him.

  “Mama,” Junior said. “Let me help you.” He took the casserole from her grasp and placed it into the oven, got the door shut before his mother engulfed him with her soft form and warm hug.

  “My son! Xochi, like my daughter. How does this happen to her?”

  “I don’t know, Ma. Everyone loves her.”

  “I know!” Tom snapped. “Esteban Miro’s men took her to him. What are you doing here, Ancona? I thought the FBI is running the show now.”

  “I rode up here with some agents from New Orleans. The quick skivvy—Rachelle and the guy from the coffee shop both identified Ramon Diaz, and the barista fingered another of Miro’s men known at El Animal. No ransom calls yet.”

  “El Animal,” Corazon wailed as she cried on Junior’s chest. “My beautiful Xochi with El Animal.” He patted her back, small comfort.

  In contrast the family butler, Brinsley, entered the kitchen with perfect solemnity and announced, “Team meeting in five minutes. Feel free to bring your beverages. Luncheon will be served directly after.” If his skin hadn’t taken on a gray cast, no one would have known him to be sick at heart.

  The kitchen emptied. Most of the family sat assembled already, youngest members on the floor to give room to their elders, Teddy in his wheelchair as usual. Connor slid in beside his massive father and slim mother. He immediately glued his eyes to the iPad he’d been fiddling with on the drive. Knox Polk, Sr. placed a comforting arm around Corazon and gave his son a nod. That trio remained standing. Tom and Alix flopped down among the siblings.

  Daddy Joe, still handsome and always imposing, took the floor to quiet the crowd. Mama Nell stood beside him holding his hand. “Thank y’all for coming home at such short notice. We told you what we knew when we called. Not much has changed. No ransom demands have been issued. I’ll turn the meeting over to Agent Maguire now.”

  “Just a second,” Mama Nell said. “I can only say we worry about each of you, but short of locking you in your rooms here on the ranch, we know you have lives to live. Please live them with caution because you are dear to us.” Blinking tears away, she went to take her place next to Stacy on the long sofa. Her agitated husband, spring-loaded, only stepped out of the circle and sank his fingers into the back of a leather recliner holding his white-haired mother, Mawmaw Nadine.

  The agent took the floor. “We believe Xochi Billodeaux was not taken for the purpose of ransom. We obtained information from the security camera mounted under the fire escape stairs at her residence.”

  “Damn, I should have thought of that!” Tom exclaimed.

  Agent Maguire, a man so plain of face and receding of hairline he would have made a nicely anonymous spy, held up a hand. No doubt his dark suit, white shirt, and black tie covered a body more fit that it appeared and possibly a weapon. “No interruptions, please. I will answer questions after I finish. Although the stolen cab passed rapidly by the camera, we have been able to enhance the brief view of the driver, one Ramon Diaz, also known as Hijo de Diablo and believed to be an illegitimate son of Esteban Miro.”

  Tom sucked in a breath at the mention of the name. “Last time I saw Miro, he sent a man to kill me and Xochi.”

  “Yes, given the Billodeauxs’ last encounter with Miro, we believe this to be a revenge kidnapping. We are not as sure of the role of the second man known as Indio. He seems to provide some sort of medical hocus-pocus for Miro. El Jefe as his men call him is known to be terminally ill. His henchmen abandoned the cab close to the dock, and we believe these men took Xochi aboard Miro’s yacht. Perhaps, this is El Jefe’s last attempt to tie up loose ends.”

  Tom’s hand shot up despite a tightening of the agent’s lips. “Is my sister being taken to Cozumel or not?”

  “Miro is currently in residence there at one of the hotels so that is most likely the destination of his yacht. Whether he will board it or have your sister brought to him, we do not know. The last would be better for extraction.”

  “You’ll try to save her.”

  “Of course. Leave the logistics to us. Do not interfere in any way.” Maguire eyed Joe Billodeaux and the very out of shape Reverend Bullock, then flicked his glance to the fit and stony-eyed Knox Polk, Sr. “We are asking you not to notify the other members of your former ill-advised rescue party.”

  “Hey, I went to bring my son home from Mexico. It was a family matter involving my cousin Bijou. We didn’t know we’d find the scene of an execution, no.” Joe crushed his famous hands together to stop them from waving in the air. “Can’t you bring in da SEALS and board dat boat?”

  “Dear,” Nell cautioned.

  “Y’all should do it,” Mawmaw Nadine said, giving more solid support for instant action.

  “It’s a large ship. Xochi might be killed before we found her. We don’t want to force a quick execution. Let us handle this when the ship gets to port within the next day or so. We can’t divulge any more of our plans for the moment. I suggest everyone have something to eat and then go about your business as normally as possible.”

  No one appeared to agree with this pronouncement. Face flaming, red curls flying, Tom jumped to his feet. “I can’t eat! How can any of us eat and go about our business. You are doing nothing, nothing at all.”

  “Tom, take it to the barn,” Mama Nell said quietly. Taking it to the barn in Billodeaux parlance meant kicking hay bales or cleaning stalls until their temper subsided.

  “Yeah, I’ll take it to the barn. Then, I’m going back to New Orleans to go about my business as if that is possible. Junior, Connor, Alix, you coming with me or finding other rides?” His friends rose along with Reverend Bullock.

  “Just a moment, young men and young lady. If I might offer a prayer for Xochi’s safety.” People bowed their heads whether they were AME, Episcopalian, or Catholic. The Rev did a worthy and lengthy job of it, extolling Xochi’s virtues almost as if delivering a eulogy. He commended her safety into the hands of God.

  All the while, Junior’s feet itched to move, to get the rescue underway. He could sense Tom’s tension and Connor’s concern as the prayer dragged on. The instant the Rev finished, their group left for the barn with Mawmaw Nadine shouting after them in her still surprisingly strong voice, “You come back here and eat. I brought my bread pudding,” as if food solved everything.

  Tom ditched Alix as he stormed through the kitchen. “Honey, make some sandwiches to go.”

  “You’d better not leave without me, Tom Billodeaux!”

  “We save time if we eat on the road. Please, Alix. Meet us in the barn.” Grumbling, she veered into the dining room and started slapping ham and cheese onto rye bread.

  Once outside the kitchen door, Tom gave Junior a command. “Junior, do your thing.”

  Junior nodded and peeled off toward the security building where his father kept an arsenal handy for any occasion. He punched in the code to the stout, windowless structure and moved quickly inside. A flick of the light switch revealed the bank of screens showing various pa
rts of the ranch from the front gate to the swimming pool to the palm grove where some of the more able of the Camp Love Letter kids played an innocent game of hide-and-seek. Taking a canvas bag from a hook, he surveyed the selection of weapons all neatly racked along the wall. He skipped the rifles and went right to the handguns, selecting three that packed a punch and took the same ammo. Doubting Connor had any shooting experience, Junior added three assault weapons, easy to use, and possible to send out a swath of rounds without much targeting. He dumped extra clips into the bottom of the sack.

  Done in under five minutes—except when he exited the building, his father stood before the door. “Just coming to check the screens. You?” he asked with perfect calm. “No lies, Junior.”

  “We’re going after Xochi.”

  “I figured.” Stepping inside, Knox Polk, Sr. held out his hand for the canvas sack. Feeling that he’d failed Tom, Junior relinquished it. Knox took a look. “Good choices. Do you remember what I taught you?”

  “Everything. Moving targets are hard to hit. Don’t get your friends killed. Come back alive. I think those are the most important points, sir.”

  “They are. I wish I could come with you. As your mother would say, Vaya con Dios.” His hug came quick and unexpected. Father and son were about the same height. Knox’s trim body pressed against Junior’s muscle and bulk for only a moment. “Now, let me leave first and patrol around the grounds. I’m being watched. I’ll draw my shadow off toward the pool. You slip out in a few minutes and stow those weapons right away before you do anything else.”

  That fast, his father acted as he said he would. Junior waited five minutes that seemed like an hour before striding directly to Tom’s vehicle and putting the sack in its rear. From there, he moved to the barn to find Tom kicking hay bales, Connor seated on one, and Tony Ancona leaning against an empty stall. Uh-oh. More trouble. At least, he wouldn’t be caught with the weapons, though all were legally registered to Knox Polk, Sr.

  “Have a seat,” Ancona said as Alix burst into the barn with her well-toned arms draped in plastic bags. Her hands carried a mountain of plastic containers, and her fingers were threaded with plastic forks.

  “Ah, hi Tony. We thought we’d have a picnic in the barn since the house is so crowded.” Her rosy cheeks and guilty blue eyes gave her away.

  “Right. You’re up to something, all of you guys. Me, I’ve been booted off the case since the Feebs are here. Got nothing to do with my time the next few days as I decided to take off to study for that detective exam. I thought maybe I could study better on the beach at Cozumel. How about you? Going on a trip?”

  Tom stopped abusing the animal feed and answered bluntly. “We’re going after Xochi.”

  “Sure, you are. Ever considered that a man in law enforcement might have some contacts south of the border and easier access than a bunch of amateurs? I could be a huge help.”

  Tom’s eyes shifted around the group. “Any objections?” None. “Then let’s get going. I’ll drive since I know the way. It will take us two hours or less. Alix, sit by me.” For the first time in hours, she seemed happy.

  “I couldn’t carry the drinks, too,” she said, though it looked like she’d emptied an entire fruit bowl into one of the sacks as a bunch of grapes hung over the edge.

  “No problem. There’s a convenience store near the clinic. Pick up some cases of water and soft drinks while I get the emergency bag from my mother’s closet,” Connor suggested.

  Even Junior couldn’t fault that idea. They piled into the SUV and carried out the first phase of their plan. Connor placed a large medical bag in the rear with the weapons and beverages. “My mom always has this handy for local emergencies.”

  “Any problems with the staff?”

  “No, I said my mother wanted it out at the ranch. Dr. Arminta Green Bullock rules that place, and they all know me. No questions asked. Worst part was having to chitchat about my residency in order to seem normal. That took some time.”

  Tom put the pedal to the metal the second Connor snapped his seatbelt. He did remember to cool it until they’d passed the speed trap and put Chapelle in the rearview mirror. Onto the four-lane, off on good road leading to Abbeville, then a long thirteen miles through nowhere to the small port with its helicopter base and dry docks. Riley’s sleek, white cabin cruiser appeared out of place among the shrimp boats, but he paid a local to keep an eye on his watercraft. The old dude with the grizzled beard turned over the keys pleasantly enough to Tom with a friendly, “Me, I never forget that red hair or your pretty lady. You going after redfish?”

  “No, just using Wideout for cruising. The little woman wants to take a tan,” Tom answered casually.

  Alix at nearly six feet was no little woman and looked bigger when angry sort of like a cat. Junior watched her bristle at her husband’s remark. The caretaker didn’t seem to notice. “You two of the whitest people I ever did see. Be sure to put on your lotion now.”

  “We’ll do that. Alix, grab the food. The rest of you get the supplies.”

  No one argued, but Junior could see Alix wanted to start another round. He slung the canvas bag of weapons over a shoulder, hefted twos cases of bottled water under his arms, and started down the dock. Connor followed with the medical bag. Doing his part, Tony Ancona carried the rest of the drinks, twelve packs stacked two deep to his armpits. They boarded and stowed the gear amid the gasoline cans with extra fuel.

  Still miffed, Alix shoved the plastic containers at Tom. “Corazon insisted I take part of the Mexican lasagna so Junior won’t starve. Mawmaw Nadine wouldn’t let me leave without enough bread pudding for four, and Mama Nell bagged enough raw vegetables to keep us all healthy.”

  “That’s dinner. I’m going to miss you so much, babe.” Tom moved in for a kiss.

  Alix stepped back. “Exactly how am I going to explain that you are leaving the little woman who needs a tan behind? Tell me that. Because I should be going along with you.”

  Yes, Tom’s mouth had tripped him up again. Junior waited to watch and learn.

  “Say we had an argument and you don’t want to go along with four guys who will spend all their time drinking and talking sports.”

  “Ah, you don’t think he knows I play football?”

  “With all your gear on, no one can tell you’re a girl.”

  “Tom, I’m as famous as you and Dean!” Alix’s face grew as red as if she had a sunburn.

  “Guys, could we have a minute? Wait on the dock.” He offered Alix a hand aboard, led her to the cabin, closed the door behind them.

  From their position, Junior could hear raised voices, then silence followed by thumping, and at last sobs as Alix emerged and climbed up to join them.

  “Quickest quickie ever, but I bet it was a good one,” Ancona murmured to Junior. The lesson learned: Sex could not solve everything, but it sure helped to smooth things out.

  “Okay, just leave, but I’m going to find a place to stay nearby and be here when you get back with Xochi. And all of you better come back.” She strode away from Wideout and passed the perplexed caretaker.

  “I thought you was gonna take a tan, no?”

  “No. Because men are assholes,” Alix answered loud enough for them to hear and gave no other explanation. She sat behind the wheel of the SUV staring at the boat until Tom took Wideout down the channel, into the bay, and out to sea.

  Chapter Seventeen

  No sense in being weak with hunger if she had a chance to escape, Xochi reasoned. As soon as her stomach settled, she rummaged in the small refrigerator. If this were her last meal, she might as well forget about fat and cholesterol. She selected a rich lobster salad, an individual bottle of white wine, and some grapes from what appeared to be a standard bon voyage basket that sat atop it. The chocolates interspersed with the fruit she marked for her dessert.

  Settling on the roomy bed, she flicked on the remote for the small television mounted on the wall. No news. No weather. Only a selection of movies bot
h new and classic as well as some porn. She chose a romantic comedy, but found she couldn’t laugh, and switched to an action/adventure where brave and built shirtless heroes fought the forces of evil and won. Satisfying if fantastic. Afterward, she napped longer than she would have thought possible.

  The sunset gleamed yellow and orange in the waters of the Gulf. The ship headed directly into its glory moving west. If only she could tell someone. Xochi tried the door again and roused the same response, a curt Que. Locked and still guarded. “Nada,” she answered and continued her survey of the room. Also nothing she could use as a weapon. The bathroom held a nice array of scented soaps and shampoos, citrusy rinses, and thick hand creams. A cheap plastic toothbrush with a tube of paste and a comb that appeared too flimsy to tame her thick waves made up the rest of the amenities. The towels were thick and the one on top of the stack had been twisted into the shape of a seal. Cute, but unhelpful.

  Xo wondered how long it took to make a shiv from a toothbrush handle and what she could sharpen it against. Every surface appeared slick and shiny. No hair spray and no lighter to make an impromptu flame-thrower. All her basic needs had been considered and all possible weapons removed.

  Giving up for the moment, she dined on a cheese and cracker plate augmented with more fruit and a handful of chocolates from the basket. She nuked a paper cup of chamomile tea to sooth her nerves and ran another movie in which Bruce Willis saved the world. Dozing off in the middle of it, Xochi dreamed of a quartet of men coming to her rescue, Junior Polk bare-chested and wearing a bandoleer of bullets, Tom blazing with a halo of yellow light and firing pistols from both hands. Off to either side, Tony Ancona, shirt half-unbuttoned over a hairy chest, wielded an automatic weapon, and Connor Bullock carried a medical bag in one hand and a similar weapon in the other. She woke with a start when the final explosions of the film blasted on the screen. Turning off the set, Xochi fell to her knees beside the bed and prayed.