“I’m fine. Honestly,” Leslie said. “But thank you so much for your concern.” She saw the pub door open and Joe walk in. He was scanning the room, looking for her. She could see the light reflect off his hair. Light, but not as blond as Matt’s. No, he was darker. His eyes were a quicksilver shade between blue and green. Matt’s had been such a piercing color; they had seemed to go from the color of the sky to indigo.
What the hell was she doing?
He strode over the table, seeming to note without surprise that Eileen was there, too, before he reached them. Leslie quickly introduced Joe to Nikki and Adam, who rose to shake his hand. She knew that Joe was assessing them warily, and that he would remain wary until he had spent more time with them.
“Mrs. Brideswell,” he said.
“Joe, I’m glad to see you.” She tried to be casual, but her voice was anxious.
Joe looked unhappy. Leslie knew he was desperately wishing he had something concrete to tell her, even though she wouldn’t come right out in this company and ask him how he was progressing. She tilted her head questioningly, and there was so much hope in that small gesture.
“I think we’re coming along,” Joe said softly.
“Really? Can you come see me tomorrow morning and tell me how things are going?” she asked him.
He hesitated.
Adam said, “Nikki and I will be with Leslie tonight, and we’ll be with her tomorrow morning at the dig.”
“Sure. How about nine?” Joe suggested.
“Right here,” Eileen said. She smiled self-consciously. “This place is my comfort zone. And it’s the only pub I know that opens for breakfast. Good business, though, with everyone who works downtown.”
Joe slid into the booth next to Leslie. She could feel the tension in his body.
“What is it?” she asked.
He shook his head, forcing a smile. “Later,” he murmured. Then, louder, “It’s great to meet some of Leslie’s friends. Are you both archaeologists, too?”
“Historian,” Adam said.
“And I run a company that leads ghost tours in New Orleans,” Nikki said.
“Ghost tours?” Joe said. “Interesting. How’s the city doing? I’ve heard a lot of people still haven’t moved back.”
Joe, Leslie realized, intended to talk about anything but what was going on. Eileen Brideswell was watching him, a slight frown creasing her brow, but she seemed equally glad not to be discussing matters that tore at her heart.
Joe, however casual he pretended to be, remained tense throughout the meal, watching the door.
“Are we being joined by anyone else?” he asked Leslie at one point.
She shook her head.
“Your work buddies are elsewhere?”
“Brad and I finished in the basement, and I don’t know where anyone went after that. Actually, I was in a hurry to leave. Nikki and Adam aren’t here for very long.” She gave him a broad smile. “At least tonight you can go home and get some sleep. I won’t be alone.”
He accepted that, though he didn’t seem to be much happier. He went on to ask Adam if he was also from New Orleans.
“Adam owns a company in Virginia called Harrison Investigations,” Eileen inserted.
Leslie fought hard to keep her eyebrows from shooting up. Did Eileen know exactly what Adam did?
“I see. Historical investigations?” Joe asked.
Leslie lowered her head, smiling. She was coming to know Joe. By tomorrow, he would know everything about Adam, Nikki and Harrison Investigations.
At last the evening ended. They waited on the sidewalk with Eileen while her driver brought the car around, and then they started walking back to Hastings House. Leslie pulled back a bit, linking her arm through Joe’s.
“What’s going on?” she asked him.
He looked down at her. “Tell me more about what you were doing in Virginia.”
“What?”
“Virginia. When you were working down there. You left New York City after you were released from the hospital, and you started working in Virginia. Were you working with Laymon and Brad from the beginning?”
“Yes. It was Laymon’s project. He approached Brad, and Brad approached me. Where is this going, Joe?”
“The work was intense?”
“We worked fairly intensely, yes, but it was that kind of dig, a major project. An entire burial ground, an old churchyard. We made all kinds of finds. Civil War weapons and bullets, canteens…and Revolutionary artifacts, as well. It was slow-going, because there were so many separate layers to sift through. Which we’ll find here, too, but—”
“Did you take days off?”
“Of course. No one works endlessly.”
“Did you have weekends off?”
“Depending on what was going on. Joe, please, what are you getting at?”
They had reached the house; Adam and Nikki were waiting politely ahead on the sidewalk.
“You can say anything in front of them,” Leslie said. “Trust me, Adam has had government contracts that far outweigh our problems.”
Joe stared at her for a minute, then reached into his jacket pocket. He unfolded a large color photograph.
She frowned at him, then looked at the photo. She instantly recognized Genevieve O’Brien, and her heart fluttered. She hadn’t said anything to Eileen or anyone else about the image that had sprung into her mind when she had touched Eileen’s hand, but now…seeing Genevieve’s face, she felt a swell of empathy. She’s alive and she’s suffering, but she’s fighting. She’ll never give up, never.
“It’s Genevieve,” she said. “I don’t know who the other woman is.”
“A prostitute—one of the women who disappeared.”
“And who is the man?”
“Look closely, Leslie.”
She couldn’t complain that the light wasn’t good, because they were standing directly under a street lamp. She stared at the photo, then gasped. She stared back at Joe.
“It’s Brad.”
“Yes.”
“I’m sure there’s an explanation.”
“Whatever it is, I intend to get it from him,” he said firmly.
She shook her head uncomfortably, suddenly aware that Adam and Nikki had walked over to stand by them and were looking at the photo, too. “This is Eileen’s niece.”
“Genevieve, yes,” Adam said.
“And she’s with your partner,” Nikki added, having apparently recognized Brad more readily than Leslie herself had.
“There has to be an explanation. I mean, you can’t assume someone is guilty of something just because he’s in a photograph,” Nikki said.
“It’s enough for me to get the police to bring him in for questioning,” Joe said.
“Joe, don’t do that. Talk to Brad yourself first, please. It’s just ridiculous to assume that he’s been abducting women just because of a photograph, and even more ridiculous to think he blew up Hastings House. Or that he’d try to hurt me or Matt. He’s not like that, Joe. He’s a good guy. Really.”
Joe clearly wasn’t convinced. Adam and Nikki kept silent on the subject.
Leslie set a hand on Joe’s arm. “Please, go slowly with this. Don’t…I don’t want to create a problem while the dig is going on.”
“The dig. Right,” Joe said disgustedly. “Amazing that a chunk of ceiling fell down just when you were there. Was Brad around when it happened?”
“I’ve told everyone. I had been in the crypt alone,” Leslie said.
“Had been. Who exactly was there after the collapse?” Joe demanded.
She looked at him, blinking. She thought back, remembering.
“A number of people—including you,” she said meaningfully.
“I arrived later, I had to shove through a crowd to get to you. Who was there when you opened your eyes?”
“Laymon, Dryer, Adair…and Brad,” she said wearily. “But that doesn’t mean anything,” she added quickly. “There were dozens of workers around, too. Dozens of grad students, some of the development company people…tons of people.”
He just stared at her. “All right. I’m not going to bring this to the attention of the police until I have a chance to speak with Brad myself.” He looked up at Adam. “I’m assuming you have a lot of connections in the area where Leslie, Laymon and Brad were last working. Do you think you could have some of them look into Brad Verdun’s movements while he was working down there?”
“I think I can manage that, yes,” Adam said. There was a strange smile curving his lip. Joe might have startled him with the question, but he didn’t bat an eye. Leslie could tell that he did think it ironic that Joe had apparently weighed and judged him so quickly, and that he was glad he had been approved.
“So for the moment, you’re not going to turn Brad in, and you won’t strong-arm him, you’ll just talk to him, okay?” Leslie asked.
Joe arched a brow. “Okay.”
“But you’d like to, right?”
“Yes,” Joe admitted.
“Then how about driving Adam and Nikki to their hotel so they can check out and come stay with me instead?”
“What about you? Where will you be while I’m playing chauffeur?”
“I can just wait here, at Hastings House.”
“No way am I leaving you alone.”
She smiled. “Okay, I’ll come, too.”
The drive was nice. The windows were down as they shot up Sixth Avenue, making for a nice breeze, and the city was beautiful by night. At the hotel, Joe left his car right in front, after tipping a young man heavily to see that it went around the block a few times and then came back.
Adam was fond of old places, so they had intended to stay at the Algonquin. Joe and Leslie sat in the comfortable lounge while they were waiting for the other two to repack and check out. He smiled at her ruefully. “So…do you see Dorothy Parker or any of her circle anywhere?” he asked lightly.
