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“I look like his preferred victim. And I knew how to dangle the bait.” She reached for the briefcase at her feet. She made sure not to lift her arms too much as she arranged the briefcase in her lap. Not like she wanted the DA to see the giant sweat stains under her arms. Because, oh, yes, she’d been sweating bullets during her standoff with a serial killer.
“The DA’s office is very interested in determining the identity of the individual who secured Everett Thomas for us.” His dark eyes never left her face. She knew all about Douglas Baptiste. The child of Haitian immigrants who had come to this country and worked hard to create a better life—a new life. Douglas Baptiste had graduated valedictorian from his high school class. He’d gone on to edit the law review at Emory where he’d earned his JD. Douglas ran a tight ship at his office. He made sure the streets were safe.
And he did not like the idea that some random vigilante might be out there, doling out his own form of justice.
Even if he stopped the bad guy when the cops hadn’t been able to do the job.
“Did you know about the bars?” Avalon repeated her question patiently.
“I’ll have some officers check them out.”
Which she decided to translate as DA speak for…No, I didn’t know. Thanks so much for your help. You are incredible. Or at least, that was how she interpreted things. “I can check them out.” And that was her way of saying…I will be going to these bars. Talking with the staff. Looking for leads. Because in her experience, certain people didn’t share well with cops. Share well. Play well. Same thing.
“We’ll handle things from here on out. But thanks for trying.”
And that was very bluntly a…Get your ass out. We are done.
“I see.” Avalon stood. The chair legs groaned as they slid over the hard floor. “I guess that means our partnership is at an end?”
He stared politely back at her. “I’ll have a guard escort you out.”
Don’t let the door hit you in the ass.
She nodded, clutched her briefcase, and headed for the door. But she stopped and had to ask, “Are you worried that he’ll strike again?”
“Everett Thomas is in a maximum-security prison. The man spends most of his time in solitary confinement because we have to protect him from the other inmates. They want to rip him apart. The guy is a trophy to them.” A long exhale. “Everett won’t be claiming any other victims.”
Avalon looked over her shoulder. “I’m talking about the person who cuffed Everett and left him with a bow for you. That is the second time your mystery vigilante has caught a bad guy in the Savannah area. Think he’ll go for time number three?”
“I think…” Douglas cleared his throat. “I think someone is hunting very dangerous individuals. And if that person is not very, very careful, it would be extremely easy to wind up as a victim. Or to just wind up dead.”
“I’ll take that as a yes answer.”
“Goodbye, Avalon.”
Get your ass out. Now. She winked. “As always, it’s been an absolute pleasure, Douglas.”
Avalon kept a serene expression on her face as a guard did, in fact, escort her back through the facility. Past all the bars and locked doors and inmates who screamed and catcalled at her. Avalon’s pace remained steady, and her gaze focused straight ahead. When she finally got to the last door, it took all of her self-control not to break and run for the car.
The door creaked open. Fresh air hit her. Sunlight. She thanked the guard and the warden—because he’d been waiting just beyond that door. Avalon slowly made her way to her vehicle, and with each step, she was far too conscious of the crunch of her high heels on the graveled parking lot.
She slipped into her car. Shut the door. When her hands lifted to grip the steering wheel, she saw the shaking of her fingers. “Sonofabitch.” Her breath shuddered out. She closed her eyes. And saw Everett Thomas lunging for the table as he slammed his hands down on its surface.
Monsters scared her. They absolutely terrified her to the depths of her soul.
She just worked extra hard so they couldn’t learn that truth.
A ghost from his past had just walked straight into his bar.
Beau LeBlanc shook his head. He even closed his eyes. But when he opened them, the vision before him did not alter. The woman with the strawberry blond hair and killer body remained standing just inside the entrance of his place.
Sonofabitch.
His hands flattened on the bar top. He stood behind the counter and tension poured through every muscle in his body. She hadn’t looked his way yet. Instead, her head was angled away as she seemed to slowly take in every single inch of LeBlanc’s.
Turn around. Walk back out. He hardly dared to breathe.
She didn’t walk out. She did turn toward him. Even across the busy bar, he could have sworn he felt the impact of her stare like a touch upon his skin. His breath heaved in when she began to walk toward him.
