Powering the phone on, I call Agent Hammond’s phone.
“I’ll be there in less than two minutes,” he says instead of hello.
“I’m not there anymore. Thomas found me. I’m down the street in a private residence about two blocks away. I’ll try to get out. Just be on the lookout for me.”
“Be careful, Anna.”
I end the call and then call Catherine’s phone. I need to make sure Ethan isn’t in the Quarter.
He answers on the first ring.
“What’s going on? I’ve been trying to call you for hours. I’m here. Are you okay?”
“It’s bad, Ethan. Agent Parker is the mole. Everything in the van was fake.”
I’ve stunned him because it takes almost thirty seconds before he says, “That bitch. We’re not far away—within a few blocks of you. Can you get out?”
“You know where I am?” I ask.
“Yeah. When we pulled back into town, Will remembered we could track his phone with one of those find-my-phone apps. As long as the power is on, we can see where it is. Right now, it’s showing you’re in the middle of the block between Chartres and St. Philip. Okay, we’re driving around your block now, but it’s a big block. I can’t figure out which way to get in. Nothing but stores and bars and six sets of those wooden doors he drove through the other night. All painted green.”
“Do you see an alleyway?”
“Yeah, there’s at least one on every side. It’s really crowded out here…. Something weird is going on….”
And then someone’s banging on the door.
“I gotta go. I’ll call you right back,” I whisper in the phone before ending the call. I don’t power it off but I do put it on silent.
I crack the door and stick my head out. Thomas is on the other side. He’s wearing a tuxedo, with a red bow tie. What the hell?
“We’re moving this up a bit.” He slides a white garment bag through the door to me and I take it from him. “Slip that on and be ready to go in five minutes.”
He stares at me a few seconds then says, “I’ll wait right here for you.”
I slam the door and lock it again.
Oh my God.
I hang the bag on the hook on the back of the door and unzip it. I don’t know what to expect—but it’s surely not a white evening gown with full-length gloves and a jacket.
I stare at the dress for half the amount of time he’s given me to get it on. I don’t even know what to think about this, so I crack the door open to see if he’s really waiting for me.
He is.
“I don’t understand? Why do I need to put this dress on?”
“You’ll understand in a moment. Please get dressed.”
I shut the door and stare at the dress again. He’s completely insane, but if dressing up will get me out of this house—I’ll do it. I’m hoping I spot either Agent Hammond or Ethan on the street and can just jump in the car with them. I strip out of my clothes and take the dress off the hanger, checking it for a tracking device before stepping into it. If there’s one there I can’t find it. It’s long and fitted but still a little big. Turning around to the mirror, I look ridiculous. My cheek is still bruised and my hair is a mess. I look like someone tried to do a makeover but the only thing they did was put a dress on me.
I crack the door open again. “Am I supposed to wear my tennis shoes with this or what?”
He shows me a pair of white flats but doesn’t hand them to me. I feel certain there is a working tracker in there. He knows something is up but he doesn’t know what.
I shut the door again and try to figure out where to put the phone and gun. All I have on under the gown is a pair of panties. No bra since the gown is strapless. I try to stick the phone in the bust area and it slips down and hits the floor. I’ve lost so much weight I can barely keep the dress up much less hide a cell phone in there.
And the gun is bigger than the phone. Where in the hell am I going to stick it?
