Page 79 of The Fourth Option
Walker laughed.
“I got you, don’t worry,” he assured her.
Walker had escaped out the back of the house and through the garden as the first squad cars arrived, bolting through a neighbor’s yard and working his way to his van, which was parked well outside the initial cordon.
With the wound on his back unreachable, he called the only person he thought he could trust in New Orleans. He had told her about the evening’s events as she pulled glass from his back.
“So, what now?” Belle asked.
“Now, I pay you for the tats you missed out on tonight along with a healthy tip for patching me up, and you go back to your life.”
“The fuck I am. Chris, whoever killed Leigh Ann was looking for those journals,” she said, pointing to the leather notebooks on the van’s sink.
“We can’t be sure.”
“I thought you were in the CIA.”
“I never said that.”
“Yeah, well, you didn’t have to.”
She rubbed her eyes, smudging her thick mascara further. Despite the outside veneer, there was a frailty to her.
Walker turned his head and looked at the notebooks.
Maybe the best thing to do is burn those things and get out of town before anyone else dies.
“Earth to Chris,” she said, reaching out, gently touching his chin and turning his head back to hers.
“Sorry,” he said. “I just don’t know what else I can do here.”
She crossed her arms.
“I thought you said you owed Connor’s dad a favor.”
“I do.”
“Well.”
“Well, what?”
“Well, stop feeling sorry for everyone, especially yourself, and let’s get to work.”
“Belle, this isn’t a game. This is serious business.”
“You don’t have to tell me that. I fucking know it.”
“I just don’t want to see you get hurt.”
“I’m already hurt, Chris. And guess what? You come to town and next thing you know, Leigh Ann is dead. If these assholes who killed Connor are willing to kill his mom to find those journals, how long do you think it is before they come looking for me? Maybe they track me down to my grandmother’s, do to me and her what they did to Leigh Ann.”
Take a breath. Think this through.
“Chris, the only way to protect me is to decipher those journals and print Connor’s story. Otherwise, I think whoever killed Leigh Ann is going to keep tying up loose ends.”
His head ached as his internal philosopher began to stir.
Was the DA mixed up with corrupt cops? Could the information in Connor’s journals keep her from becoming the next governor of Louisiana?
