Bitter Root (28 page)

“I’m happy to help. I want to find her too. I’m not backing away
from this at all. I’m just not sure where to start. I’ve got to talk to her. I
can’t tell you what I said, but I can tell you it was a mistake. I want her
back just as much as you.” Griffith realized it was true. No matter what, she
had to make things right.

“Like hell. But you’re going to help, no matter what. Let me get
through this mess, then you and I are going to get to work.”

The service was lovely in spite of Adi being missing. Everyone
danced and sang and sent Bertie off in a big way. Griffith pasted on a smile
and was polite, but all she could think about was Adi, and where she might have
gone. When they finished the fantastic buffet Jose and the new cook had
prepared, people began to say their good-byes, and T’Claude found Griffith
sitting at a back table.

“I know you’re angry with me, and you’ve every right to be. But
believe me, the last thing I wanted was to cause Adi pain or make her run. I
just wanted to get through to her. She wouldn’t talk to me. She’d shut me out.
I had to say what I said so we could have a chance,” she said.

“What chance? What did you expect? You know her well enough by
now to know that girl isn’t but barely held together on the outside. She’s
deep. Real deep, on the inside, but she doesn’t handle stress at all. She’s
like a chocolate dipped ice cream when you first take a bite. That shell just
cracks and falls away. How could you do that to her? I thought you cared.”

“I do care. I care a great deal. When she wouldn’t let me in I
panicked. I had to get her to react. To acknowledge that I existed in her life.
I was scared, damn it.”

“Well, hallelujah. You were scared, so you destroyed her. Great
plan, there. How’s that working out for ya?” He crossed his arms and glared at
her.

“Not so good. Damn it, T’Claude. Let’s stop this crap and find
her. Can we do that, please? Can we not focus on what an ass I’ve been and
instead focus on where she would go?”

He was a solid slab of anger, and Griffith wondered if he would
budge. She knew his love for Adi would win in the end. He needed her as much as
she needed him.

“Fine. For now. I’m not letting this go, though. Selfishness like
that? It’s not caring about someone. But we’ll get back to that later.”

“Good. Where do you think she’s most likely to go? She didn’t
take much with her.”

“No, she didn’t. Her phone, for one thing. She used to talk about
New Orleans a lot when she was a teenager. I don’t think Bertie ever managed to
get her over there, but she might have headed that way.”

“New Orleans. Good. I have some contacts there. They owe me some
favors down at city hall. I’ll email one of them, and he can run her plates
through the system and see if she shows up anywhere. Her truck will be pretty
hard to miss too. Maybe he could run a check on her credit cards,” she said.

“That’s a good plan. I can call my buddies down there and get
them to look out for that truck. Plus, if she’s looking to put her skills to
use as a chef, I can pull some strings so we’ll hear about it.”

“You don’t think she’ll just come back? You know, after a few
days?”

“No. She didn’t come back for the service, so there’s no way
she’s planning to come back at all.”

“I’m so sorry to be the cause of this, T.”

He sighed. “I know you are. Mind me now, I’m not forgiving you,
but I know you didn’t mean to chase her off. Let’s get going on this stuff so
we can hear something soon.”

“Okay. You have my cell number. Please call me if you hear
anything.”

“You do the same. We should head down to New Orleans ourselves.
She isn’t going to just up and call us,” he said.

“You’re right. Let’s do it.”

“Good. I’ll tie up some loose strings here and we can head out
later today. Let’s say, by six?”

“I’ll be ready.”

Griffith headed back to her room and called her New Orleans
contact. She had covered a story on fiscal misconduct he had been involved in.
She had found proof he had no part in the misappropriations and had basically
saved his butt, so he was more than happy to help.

“Sure, no problem. If I find anything, it should be in the next
few hours. I’ll send you a text.”

“Thanks. I appreciate it,” she said.

That complete, she packed an overnight bag and waited to hear
from T’Claude. Sitting around was making her crazy. She felt trapped and
helpless. The longer she waited, the higher the tension rose in her until she
felt like she could scream. Why? Why did she open her stupid mouth? She knew
the subject of Dulac made Adi jumpy. What had possessed her to throw out the
name she had run from? T was right. It had been her selfish need to show Adi
she knew who she really was to get her to let her in.
Talk about backfiring.

Just when she thought she’d burst if nothing happened, her phone
rang. She didn’t recognize the number, and with blind hope, she answered.

“Adi?”

“Excuse me? Is this Griffith McNaulty?”

Not Adi. The voice was familiar, but she couldn’t place it.

“Yes,” she said.

“This is J.B. Nerbass. I did some follow-up after our visit, Ms.
McNaulty. I now understand you have quite a reputation as an investigative
journalist. I had my people look into your recent movements and I see you’ve
been all over South Louisiana.”

“How is this a concern of yours, Mr. Nerbass? I told you I was
doing a story. It includes various people in various places.”

“It’s very much my concern. Just what kind of game are you
playing?” he said.

“I’m not playing any kind of game. I don’t have time for this
right now, so if you’ll excuse me?”

“I will not. You have a lot to answer for. My attorneys will be
doing the talking for me if you’re too busy to hear me.”

“Mr. Nerbass, I assure you, I’m not playing any game. Right now
I’m in the midst of a personal crisis. Please understand.”

“I understand one thing. You came to me about a very personal
matter. You have caused me unbelievable pain, and I’m not the kind of man you
want to make angry.”

“Is that right? And what kind of pain have you caused? I’m done
with this conversation. Good-bye.” She disconnected the call and resisted the
urge to throw her phone across the room. If ever there were a shit storm with
her name on it, this was it. He knew where she’d been, and quite likely, who
she’d been talking to.

Where was T? What was taking so long? She had to get to New
Orleans and find Adi, before anyone else did.

*

The sound of the street drummers calmed Adi as she wandered
through the French Quarter. It was so crowded with people she felt anonymity
surround her like a cloak.
This
is good.
No one would ever notice her here, much less be able to
find her. The room she had taken at the Super 8 was clean, but not something
that would work long-term. She needed to find a place to disappear.

There had been a guy at the place where she had breakfast who
mentioned a job at Tujague’s. It wasn’t much, just a line cook position, but if
she got the job, it would be a secure source of income with the potential for
promotion. He had given her directions and the name of the person to speak
with. Hopefully, this would pan out. She wouldn’t have any references to offer,
so she couldn’t be sure. Pain knifed through her as she flashed on Bertie and T
joking around in the kitchen at the Pot.
So
much loss. When will it stop hurting?
She blocked it out, numbed
herself to the memory. She would forget.

The man at Tujague’s was happy she had some experience as a cook.
He accepted that she had drifted around New Iberia as a short order cook.

“Here, fill out this paperwork, and when you’re done, tap on my
office door. I’ll walk you through our system and get you a T-shirt and cap.
You can wear any pants for now. If you move up, you’ll have to get the full
uniform,” he said.

“Yes, sir.”

“Just call me Jake. No sir-ing around here.”

“Okay, Jake,” she said.

He nodded as he slipped into his office. Adi filled in the forms,
putting in the names of several restaurants near New Iberia. They might call,
but she chose places that she knew had high turnover rates, or that had closed.
When she tapped on the door, Jake tossed her a black T-shirt and cap.

“Be here tonight at six. You’ll start on a trial basis. If things
work out, great. You have the Super 8 listed as your residence. Is that right?”
he asked.

“For now. I just got into town and don’t have a permanent place
yet.”

“I have a buddy who owns a building in Bayou St. John. The bottom
floor is an ice cream joint, but he rents out the apartment above. It’s pretty
nice. I think it’s available. Let me get you his number,” he said, searching
his desk. “Here you go. His name is Steven. Tell him I gave you his number.”

“Thanks.”

“Forget it. See you tonight.”

Adi was a little shook up at how easy it was. She had a job and
now a connection to an apartment. She was going to be okay. She grabbed a bite
to eat at a café on Decatur. Everything was just so alive here. She liked the
feeling the city gave her. It was so much more than New Iberia had been. More
movement, more laughter and music, it just breathed life. She concentrated on
that, and people watching, rather than think about Griffith’s betrayal and how
she’d lost everything because of her.

I can be
this place. This is who I am now.

She called about the apartment and got an appointment to see it
that afternoon. The place was small, but had some great features. It was small
enough to feel safe but big enough not to feel claustrophobic. She loved that
it had a good-sized deck too. The neighborhood seemed safe, with a number of
little shops with apartments above them. The rent wasn’t cheap, but she thought
she’d be able to swing it. She might have to get a second job, but that would
be good. Less time to think about what she’d left behind. She signed lease
papers, month to month, and paid two months’ rent in advance. The lady who
showed her the apartment ran the shop downstairs. She said Adi could move her
things in between nine p.m. and ten a.m.
Things.
She’d have to get some of those. It wouldn’t do to move into an apartment with
only a backpack. Briefly, she thought about Griffith and wondered what her
place in LA looked like. The thought was quickly followed by the feeling of
being wrapped in her arms. But then… The whispered name that sent her running,
made her heart ache.
Dangerous.
Too damn dangerous.

When she returned to her room, she set her alarm for four thirty.
That would give her plenty of time to shower and get back to the restaurant.
She was desperate for a nap, and it wasn’t long before she was asleep.

J.B.’s arm
wrapped around her waist. The smell of his aftershave was strong in her nose.
He forced her hand around the grip of his pistol. The blue-black gun filled her
vision, its cold surface cutting into her skin. What’s happening? She watched
as his finger tightened around hers, causing the gun to explode with heat and
smoke. Her ears felt like they were bleeding, but she couldn’t hear a sound.
She looked up the length of the gun and saw the carnage the bullet had created.
The body collapsing, red mist hanging in the air, and then the face, obscured
by dark hair. Who was that? It should be Ransom, but it wasn’t. She watched as
the body continued its fall in exaggerated slow motion. The head hit the
floorboard and bounced up, hair slipping off the face. Her own face. Suddenly,
she was looking out of dead eyes at herself, holding a smoking gun.

Adi sat up, covered in cold sweat.
It wasn’t real. You didn’t kill yourself. It was
Ransom. It was J.B. making you shoot Ransom. You’re safe.
Sound
slowly returned, the smell of blood and gun smoke finally fading. Her skin was
cool and her head ached. She made her way to the bathroom and climbed into the
shower in her undershirt and briefs. The water helped, but the dream lingered.
She felt the tears building up before they fell. She gave in to her grief as
she slid down the shower wall into a crumpled heap.

When the water turned tepid, she made herself get up and get
dressed. It was almost time to head to the restaurant, and she didn’t want to
be late.

The place was already full of diners when she arrived. The staff
entrance was in the alleyway behind the restaurant, but she had to negotiate
the crowd on the sidewalk to get to it. One thing about this town, everybody
was happy. The other kitchen staff gave her a lukewarm welcome, showed her
where to toss her bag, and gave her space at the counter to help prep the
dinner service. She chopped so many onions and celery she wondered what the
special was, but noticed others preparing like amounts of all sorts of
ingredients. The head chef was cantankerous, and she made sure to stay out of
his way.

The first time she got near the cooktop was to reduce a beef
stock. She happily took on the task, even though it caused some of the other
workers to grumble. Apparently, there was a hierarchy she needed to learn.
During her first break of the evening, one of the friendlier guys joined her in
the alley.

“Hey, new girl,” he said.

“Hey, yourself. I’m Sonny.”

“Chris. So how’s it going so far?”

“I’m not sure. You tell me,” she said.

“Not bad. You could work a little slower, though.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, you’re making the rest of us look like lazy bums.”

“I didn’t mean to do that,” she said.

“Of course you didn’t. Just trying to impress the big guy. Look,
Chef won’t like you, no matter what you do. You work so hard trying to get his
attention, and when you do, it’s only so he can shoot you down. Trust me. Been
there, done that.”

“I’m not trying to get any attention. I’m just doing my job.”