“Tucker?”
“A reliable source.”
John knew that was a yes. “Then are you sure your attacker didn’t recognize you from your previous line of work?”
“I don’t think so.”
“But?”
“But, if he did, Malone will learn that I was lurking just outside his place. He won’t like it a bit. So I’m going to lay low and wait to see how he reacts. That’ll determine what I do next.”
“Don’t make a move without my knowledge.”
Mitch said nothing.
“Mitch, I mean it.”
“I heard you. Not without your knowledge.”
John hissed with irritation. “Where are you laying low?”
“It’s not on anyone’s radar. Prohibition-defying Cajuns saw to that.” He need say no more.
He could envision the dent between John’s eyebrows getting deeper, which it tended to do when he was concentrating.At last, he said, “Playing a hunch here. It occurs to me that Dr. Reede isn’t at home and can’t be reached on her cell phone. And neither can you.”
“You’re a genius.”
“She’s with you,” John said. Elaborate cussing followed.
“I know what it looks like, but—”
“Looks like you’re holed up with your therapist.”
“See? As I said, genius. Do you want to hearwhywe’re holed up, or not?” After a pause, he continued. “If Malone learns that the knifed homeless man was in fact an ex-narc, and he wants to know what’s going on inside said ex-narc’s head, who better to ask than the ex-narc’s therapist? That’s why I enlisted Clarence the Tell-all Tattletale to watch her house last night.”
“That sounds like one of your convoluted rationalizations for pulling a stunt.”
“Sounds like that, but isn’t. Did Clarence tell you about the car outside her house?”
“Yes.”
“Trying to find out who owns that car will take you down a rabbit hole that goes all the way to China, but I’d bank on it belonging to Malone. Who else would take a sudden interest in Dylan Reede to the extent of watching her house?”
“You,” John said. Then he sighed. “But I get what you’re saying. So your plan is to keep her under lock and key—my lock and key, by the way. How does she feel about it?”
Mitch looked at her and raised his eyebrows; she gave him a bashful smile. “She came around,” he said. “Like Beth did when you stashed her here.”
“That was different.”
“Damn right it was,” Mitch said. “You didn’t know who your bogeyman was. I know who mine is. And yet I can’t—”
“Hold on, my desk phone is ringing. Could be Darcy with something new on Bayou Coeur.”
Mitch stood by while John answered the incoming call. He reached over to stroke Dylan’s arm. With a rueful smile, he said, “Some morning after, huh?”
Before she could reply, John was back. “Mitch, it’s Mary.”
“Calling you?”
