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Her brother Van had known the whole truth, too, but he was gone. No one else knew.
Kaj does.
Val blinked, the truth hitting her like a brick. He didn’t know everything, but he’d guessed at the basics and he’d cared. Enough to be gentle when telling her that he wanted to see where things would go between them once Elijah was safe again.
“Oh,” Molly said slyly. “What was that?”
“What?” Val asked, resisting the urge to cover her face.
Molly’s eyes sparkled. “That blush on your face. I was here feeling all sad for you, but you look happy. Almost bashfully so.” She leaned in close. “Tell me everything.”
Val nudged her away with an embarrassed laugh. “There’s nothing to tell.”
“But there will be.” Molly nodded knowingly. “I’m sure of it. I saw how he looked at you at the party Gabe threw at the Choux two weeks ago.”
Cousins Gabe and Patty Hebert co-owned the Choux and had closed the restaurant to host Gabe’s father’s memorial—done in true New Orleans fashion with a zydeco band and dancing. Kaj had been in attendance, but he hadn’t been looking at her. Val knew this because she’d been watching him. “He did not.”
“He did so. I saw him. Even told Gabe. We made a bet on when he’d ask you out.”
Val stared at her. “When did you pick?”
“Thanksgiving. Gabe said New Year’s. Of course, we hadn’t predicted that Elijah would be nearly kidnapped, so that threw our timing.”
“Pesky things, attempted kidnappings,” Val muttered.
“You know what I meant. Go and sleep. Maybe you’ll be more forthcoming with the juicy details after a nap.”
“Not a chance, because there are no juicy details.”
“Yet,” Molly said archly.
Val allowed herself a small smile. “Yet.” Then she sobered, remembering why she was there in Kaj’s house. Elijah. She was there to keep Elijah safe. “I’m going to talk to Antoine, then I’ll go to sleep.” She turned for the dining room table, but Antoine stayed her with an outstretched hand, palm out.
“Do not bother me,” he said. “Do not ask me what I know. I’ve only gotten started.”
Val didn’t take offense. When he was relaxed, Antoine was the life of the party. When he was working, he was like a grumpy hermit in a cave. “Fine. Can I at least know the dates you got from Rick’s calendar?”
Antoine made a growling noise but pivoted to his third laptop and typed something. “I just emailed them to you. Go sleep. Or don’t sleep. I don’t care. Just don’t bother me.”
“Okay, okay. I’m going.” She took a final glance at Molly, who flipped her hand, shooing her up the stairs without a word. “Fine. I’m going.”
Changing out of her pantsuit and taking off the wig, she stretched her body under the covers of Kaj’s guestroom bed. She allowed herself a single moment of wishing she were in his bed instead, but that was all. She closed her eyes, but her brain wouldn’t stop racing, so she opened her phone to Antoine’s newest email.
And... wow. Ten times in the last two years. Ten times Corey had left two teenagers for at least a week at a time—without any food. There were other times he’d left them for days but had at least left a few twenties on the table so that the boys could buy their own food.
Two years ago, Jace had only been thirteen. Rick only fourteen. Fourteen and taking diligent notes to help get himself and Jace out of a horrific situation.
When she’d been fourteen, she and Van had gone to school and played video games afterward. They’d babysat Sylvi when her sitter had to cancel. Their parents had worked a lot, so they hadn’t always been physically in their house, but they’d have come home in a heartbeat had one of the kids needed them. They’d always fed them. Never beaten them. Her parents had always loved them.
Her heart hurt for Jace, just as it had for every neglected child who’d passed through her classroom. She’d helped as best she could, lining them up with county services so that they didn’t go hungry. She still did with the kids who came to her music class at the community center, calling children’s services more than once when she’d seen finger-shaped bruises.
Much like the bruises on Jace’s skin.
It never got easier to see. It never became possible to unsee.
She wouldn’t have it any other way. She never wanted to be numb to a child in need.
Pay attention, Val. She focused on the list of dates but knew that Antoine was better equipped to look for patterns and connections to crimes. At least while her brain was spinning and tired.
