“The man you shot got away. I think he gave Grace the money they’d need to get away until they could cash the bonds. We found a plane ticket to Paris in her name and another to Spain, in her false name. Her suitcases were packed. Grace had dyed her hair and had colored contacts to alter her appearance. This was well planned.”
“Grace always was organized.”
“I think Grace and Doc sent out photocopies of the diary to the media. That’s why they’re calling you.”
“Why would she do such a thing? This is all going to be made public? All of it? Why? And if this Doc had the diary, why did they bother to kidnap Gary?”
“I’m not sure, but I think that may have been Grace’s idea, maybe a requirement for helping Doc. She had lots of pictures of you in the apartment.”
“We’ve been friends for nearly twenty-five years. I have pictures of her in my house and studio.”
“She had boxes filled with them. Covering the walls, in drawers. She was obsessed with you.”
“You mean like stalker obsessed?”
Alexa nodded.
“Is it possible that Unko or Fugate told Sibby about my parents? So that she’d harm them? How awful!”
“The diary didn’t say so.”
“It wouldn’t necessarily, would it? Who in their right mind would write that down? That they’d deliberately sent a madwoman into the home of two innocent people, to butcher them? Unko would never have had any control if my father had lived. Alexa, my family history is filled with the person in control being ousted by the person next in line. The strongest warrior in waiting defeats the king, and takes over. Alexa, it’s true! I know that’s what happened. Unko deliberately used her to murder my parents!”
“I’m sorry you had to hear all of this from me. Sorry you had to hear it at all.”
“You’re most sorry because it’s true,” Casey said, smiling for the first time since Alexa had mentioned the notebook. “You are a wonderful, kind person, Alexa Keen. We’re alike, you and me. Orphans. It’s true. Don’t you see?”
Casey embraced Alexa. “You are the savior of the lost. If there’s anything I can ever do for you, it’s yours.”
Alexa left the West house. She ignored the shouted questions of the members of the fourth estate, gathering like hungry crows.
77
Alexa tried to call Manseur to give him an update on her meeting with Casey, and to check the status of the search for the tracker that might lead them to Leland Ticholet and the wounded Doc Doe. The call went straight into his voice mail.
“Call me when you get this,” Alexa said.
Ten minutes later, when her cell phone rang, she flipped it open.
“Keen,” she answered.
“Alexa,” Manseur said. “Where are you?”
“Almost back to the downtown.”
“Have any blue jeans with you?” he asked her.
“At the hotel. Why?”
“Sneakers?”
“I have running shoes? Why?”
“Go to your room and change into them. We got a signal on the briefcase tracker in the swamp. I’m leaving the office. I can swing by and pick you up. Kennedy and Bond are getting some equipment and they’ll meet us.”
“Ten minutes,” Alexa said. “I’ll be out front waiting for you.”
Twelve minutes later Alexa climbed into Manseur’s car just as he was yawning. “I thought this might be better than a purse out there.” Manseur handed her a high-rise belt holster for her Glock as well as a magazine holder with a pair of loaded magazines. “Those are your mags. The lab returned them.”
“You are so thoughtful.” Alexa went into her purse to give Manseur the one he’d loaned her.
“The cell phone you found in the grass was the mystery prepaid cell number,” Manseur said. “The phone links Grace to the other perps.”
“No surprise there. By the way, Casey confirmed that our Doc was the orderly from River Run that Grace was flirting with when she was taking pictures out there.”
“Which reminds me. Doc’s real name is Andy Tinsdale. Veronica gave me his last known address. Tinsdale was on the violent wards for three years. He left, under a dark cloud, about the time Fugate did. There were some unsavory accusations involving patient abuse and missing meds.”
“Tinsdale. I remember the name from the list of staff. We need to have a look in his place.”
“We will when we get back. I had patrol check the apartment and it’s locked up tight. Neighbor said nobody’s been in since day before yesterday. By the way, don’t be surprised if there are sound trucks from a caravan behind us. The damned media is in a feeding frenzy, trying to slip this bombshell in to augment their hurricane coverage.”
“Already? They don’t know the diary’s authentic yet.”
“Yes, they do.”
“How?”
“Casey West told them.”
“Casey? You sure?”
“Saw her on the TV myself just before I called you. Announced that she’s just learned about the diary from an FBI agent, who told her it was authentic. Said she’s crushed by LePointe’s actions, but says her uncle should have a chance to explain everything to her and to the public before he’s judged. No matter how scandalous and despicable his actions were, or what actual crimes he committed, he has been a friend of this community, or some such happy crap. Woman threw the old goat to the wolves.”
“Couldn’t happen to a more deserving individual,” Alexa said. She certainly couldn’t blame Casey for reacting as she had, but she hadn’t expected Casey to go public.
Usually people like the LePointes played things close to their vests and the public arena wasn’t the place for washing their dirty laundry. But Casey had certainly earned the right to change the LePointe family handbook.
Alexa almost felt sorry for LePointe. Almost.
78
Alexa and Manseur listened in silence as the car’s radio informed them that refugees from Katrina, using everything from motorcycles to bus-sized RVs, were leaving New Orleans. All of the lanes of the major roads leaving the city were handling one-way traffic only, and the vehicles on the main roads were leaving at a crawl. Vehicles of every description littered the sides of the roadways, some with hoods raised, their occupants waving desperately at passing cars. Even the back roads were bumper-to-bumper. Gasoline stations were mobbed by desperate motorists or people wanting gas for generators, or the stations had run out of fuel.
Mayor Ray Nagin’s strong voice came over the airwaves, pleading. “…believe that. People, the plain fact is that Hurricane Katrina is going to be the most powerful hurricane ever to make landfall in the history of the United States, and it is coming in right here this evening. The water surge, a wall of water twenty feet high, is going to be pushed by two-hundred-mile-per-hour winds up the Mississippi River into Lake Pontchartrain, and it is going overtop the levees. It is suicide to remain in the city, because your homes are going to be flooded. The police are going door to door with orders to forcefully remove everybody found in any home or apartment, and those people are going to be taken to the Superdome, which is twenty feet above sea level. I urge you all to heed this warning and get out of your homes and businesses and remain out of the area until we give an all-clear to return. The police and National Guard will deal with any looters, using all necessary force. If you cannot get out of the city, go to the Superdome now. This is going to be the worst-possible-case scenario storm. I can’t say this any stronger. There are going to be bodies floating in the streets.”
The governor spoke about coordinating state and federal agencies. But a new voice had been added to the dire warnings. President George Bush talked about which federal agencies he was sending and finished his message with “I have just three words to say to the people of New Orleans and the Mississippi Gulf Coast. Get. Out. Now.”