“I guess Boudreaux thinks otherwise,” he said then exhaled. “His mom’s the head trainer out at Farouche’s horse farm and has worked with his thoroughbreds for over thirty years. Boudreaux grew up working with horses and still lives out there.” He paused to take a sip of water. I strained a few neurons in my attempt to picture scrawny, cigarette- smoking Boudreaux around horses. Nope. Couldn’t see it. Had to be an alternate universe.
“He’s always been private about his past,” Pellini continued, “but he claims Farouche saved his life and didn’t deserve to die like that. He’s pretty torn up.”
Great. It was bad enough having the FBI and sheriff’s department all over the Farouche Plantation incident, but now an unpredictable Boudreaux joined the mix. “Are these the only pictures of what happened out there?”
“The sheriff’s office has a few others, but they’re so distorted they’re useless.” His dark eyes sharpened on me beneath shaggy black eyebrows. “You have any idea why that might be?”
I could have said, “Probably because a crap load of arcane potency flies around when demonic lords battle it out over a passageway between worlds,” or, “Maybe it was from the lightning Lord Mzatal summoned in rage—right before he almost incinerated everything within a mile radius,” but instead I opted for, “No idea.”
His mouth tightened. “I get it. You can’t tell me.”
I scrambled to read his expression. Did he know I knew more or was he simply fishing for information? Neither possibility appealed to me. “I don’t have anything to tell,” I said, keeping my face composed.
“Sorry,” he said and sounded as if he actually meant it. “With Kristoff on the case, I thought it was worth a shot to ask, but I shouldn’t’ve pushed it.”
Relief flooded through me. Agents Ryan Kristoff and Zack Garner led an FBI special task force that dealt with weird stuff, and after I resigned from the Beaulac PD they brought me on as a civilian consultant. It made perfect sense that the task force would be assigned to the plantation case considering all the bizarre crap that had occurred there. It was natural for Pellini to assume I’d have more info.
“I was out of town for a while and haven’t been updated,” I said. It wasn’t even a lie as long as the demon realm counted as “out-of-town.” I didn’t bother to mention that Zack and Ryan were both as neck-deep in the plantation fiasco as I was. Or that Zack was totally out of commission, and Ryan hadn’t bothered to answer his phone or reply to any of my messages since I’d arrived back on Earth a couple of weeks ago.
“Boudreaux and I went out to the plantation the day after all the shit went down,” Pellini said. “Kristoff got us in before Boudreaux got banned because of his stepdad.” He pulled a file folder from his briefcase and placed it on the table beside the photos. “You think you might have time to go out there with me tomorrow?”
What was his game? Had he recognized me in the photograph after all? And did he think I’d break down and confess if I returned to the scene of the crime? Out of habit I mentally reached for Mzatal, like turning to share with a friend, but only felt the barest hint of him. He’d walled off his emotions after he wreaked havoc at the plantation. While I understood the necessity, I still ached with the muting of our connection. Beneath the table, I ran my fingers over my ring—Mzatal’s Christmas gift to me. Though the stone had been destroyed, I couldn’t bring myself to stop wearing it.
“I saw that you left messages for me while I was away,” I said. “Were they about this plantation incident?”
Damned if Pellini didn’t look guilty. Or maybe ashamed? “Yeah,” he said then paused. “And a few other matters.”
Other matters? Yeah, that wasn’t at all ominous. But my thoughts derailed as Detective Marco Knight of the New Orleans Police Department stepped into the East Shore Diner and headed straight for us.
Why in blazes was he in Beaulac? I’d known him for close to a year, ever since he helped out with one of our task force investigations in New Orleans. He was clairvoyant—at least as far as I could tell—which made him a perfect fit for the strange shit we dealt with. On the other hand, his talent for knowing more than he should unnerved most people. In fact, Pellini had once pulled me aside to warn me that secrets didn’t always stay secret around Knight. At the time, I was more shocked that the typically abrasive and unpleasant Pellini had my back than worried that he thought I had secrets that I wanted kept secret. Later, the NOPD detective admitted that many years ago he’d shared one of his revelations with Pellini and hurt him in a way he didn’t deserve.
By the time Knight reached our table I’d recovered from my surprise at seeing him. “Hey, Marco,” I said with a friendly lift of my hand. “What brings you to our neck of the woods?”
Knight gave me a quick smile and a “Hey, Kara” but then turned to Pellini. “Need to talk to you. Now. Outside.”
My bafflement increased. “Is something wrong?”