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Remembered the ceaseless poverty after his father was no longer an earner.
He wanted to turn on the reporter and tell her to go to hell, but he spied Ed peeking from the side window next to the front door. Ed was shaking his head, his expression pinched.
Don’t react. Don’t fuck this up. Corey drew a breath, then another until the pounding in his head lessened and he could hear himself think again.
He’s dead. His father was dead and couldn’t cause him any more trouble, but his brothers had taken up the old man’s mantle, all right.
Focusing on each step, Corey climbed his porch stairs, ignoring the reporters’ incessant questions. Let them shout. He was done.
He closed the door and leaned against it, meeting Ed’s eyes. “Well? How’d I do?”
Ed’s nod was relieved, like he’d expected Corey to fall apart. “It was good. Let’s talk more once we’re on the road.”
Corey nodded. “I’m expecting those two detectives to knock any second. I don’t think they wanted me to share the info about Sixth Day, but they didn’t tell me not to. Go sit with Dianne in the living room and shut the door. Keep her occupied. I don’t want her listening.”
“Sure thing.” He disappeared into the living room, pulling the pocket door closed just as two sharp raps rattled his front door.
Corey opened the door to find the two detectives on his front porch, just as he’d expected. They were Detectives Clancy and Drysdale, but they were clearly playing Good Cop and Bad Cop, so that was how Corey thought of them.
Detective Bad Cop lifted his brows. “We didn’t expect you to divulge the gang connection, Mr.Gates.” Because they didn’t want the public to know about Sixth Day, but it was what Corey most needed all of New Orleans to know.
Police phone lines would ring with residents demanding the police round up the gang and clean up the city. Public scrutiny—and police attention—would be on the drug dealers.
Not on me.
Corey widened his eyes in pretend dismay. “I’m sorry.” He shook his head, dropping his gaze subserviently. “I didn’t think to hold it back. I was nervous and...” He sighed wearily. “I was trying to be as transparent as possible. I’m sorry.”
The other detective nodded sympathetically. He was the good cop, Corey had learned during his interrogation on Rick’s whereabouts the evening before. “We understand, but you have to understand that you’ve likely made yourself a target. Sixth Day won’t like that you’ve put them back in the spotlight. They could retaliate.”
Corey opened his mouth, honestly a little stunned. “I didn’t think about that. But it doesn’t change anything. I want Rick back. Even if it’s dangerous for me.”
It wouldn’t be dangerous, of course, but he hadn’t thought about the threat to himself. He hoped this didn’t make the police follow him “for his own good.”
“That’s noble, Mr.Gates,” Good Cop said, still sympathetic. “But please don’t say any more to the press. They’ll aid with getting Rick’s photo out there and hopefully that will help us bring him in peacefully.”
Corey glanced up, drawing a pained breath. “That’s all I want. For him not to be hurt.”
Lie. He wanted Rick to hurt a lot. And he’d make sure the little bastard did before this day was over.
Detective Bad Cop looked like he wanted Rick to be hurt, too. “I assume you’ll be staying here?”
Corey had planned for this. Keep it cool. He grimaced. “I will be, but my sister-in-law is exhausted. She’s been staying here with me because the media was at her house, but now they’re here. She has a sister down in Houma. I’m planning to take her there later today. But for now, she wants to help us continue looking for Rick. I’ll keep my cell phone on and charged. I’ll call you the minute I either find him or hear from him. You said last night that the judge might be able to get him into rehab. Is that still possible?”
Detective Good Cop nodded. “It’s possible. It’ll be up to the DA on the case, but we’ll put in a good word.”
Which was utter bullshit, but Corey smiled gratefully. “Thank you.”
Good Cop smiled back. “I’m glad we found the burner phone that Rick left behind. We wouldn’t have thought to look at Sixth Day for this. They’ve been off our radar for four years.”
More bullshit. But Corey simply nodded.
Detective Bad Cop harrumphed grumpily. “I can’t believe your brother hid his burner and drugs in your mother’s funeral urn. That’s messed up, man.”
Rick hadn’t, of course. Corey had planted them there after Ed had walked him through how to configure one of their burners to look like Rick had been corresponding with drug dealers. The drugs had been Rick’s, though. Corey had found them in Rick’s bedroom. He’d known for a while that Rick was using, but if his brother wanted to poison his body, he wasn’t going to tell him no.
“Like I said, he hasn’t been right in a long time.”
Bad Cop took a step forward. “We’re going to need to talk to Jace.”
