Page 37 of Leo

“Guns with bullets are very old-fashioned.” She walked slowly toward Echo, who pulled the needle from her flesh, tossing it aside. “This is really quite remarkable. It fires needles laced with untraceable drugs. Drugs that will be long gone from your system by the time your heart and brain stop.”

“L-Len… Len…” she stammered.

“You are a traitor to me,” she frowned. “I don’t take that lightly. You’re going to have an unfortunate accident, Echo. Truly unfortunate.”

She fired one more needle into her chest and then looked at the mess in the room. She put the backpack where it was, made the bed, and then left the room to gather the things she would need.

After disguising herself as a maid, she loaded the body of Echo into the linen bin, took the service elevator downstairs, and then pushed the wrapped body behind the dumpster. Later, she would return to give her a final resting place.

“Hi,” smiled Dean. “I thought you were standing me up.”

“Never,” she laughed, linking her arm with his. “Let’s go have a true Parisian breakfast. I feel like it’s a day to celebrate.”

“What are we celebrating?” he asked.

“Victory,” she laughed.

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

“Lenora Palmer, the only daughter of Jonathon and Delilah Palmer of Connecticut,” said Hiro.

“Why does that name sound familiar?” asked Luke.

“Jonathon Palmer owned several investment groups that were found guilty of mismanagement of funds, tax evasion, and a nice long list of other things. Everything he owned was sold to help reduce his debt with the investors, but it wasn’t enough. He ended up being sentenced to ten to fifteen years in prison, along with his wife, who also worked at the company.”

“Shit, that sucks,” said Cam. “Are they alive?”

“No. They both died in prison. The daughter never visited them once. She was finishing her senior year at MIT. The home, owned by the family for more than a hundred years, was sold and all the belongings in it. She vowed to get it all back eventually, and she might be doing just that.”

“What do you mean?” asked Luke.

“In the last twenty years, items that belonged in that house were sold at auctions or in resale shops after those who originally purchased them sold them again around the New England area. It had to be a herculean task just to track down where all the items had gone.

“She has bought almost all of the items back, generally under her alias of Gemma Daniels. There are a few things left to purchase, including the house.”

“The house is for sale?” asked Tillie.

“It was for sale. Someone placed an offer for the house yesterday, and we believe it will be accepted by the seller today. The potential buyer made a good faith deposit of nearly tenmillion dollars. Not usually something you see done. The house itself is selling for thirty-three million dollars.”

“Does she have that kind of money?” asked Leo.

“If she’s been as busy as we believe she has, yes. She has that and much more. But that doesn’t tell us where the eggs and the amber are. It doesn’t appear that they’ve been sold just yet.”

“We’ve been walking this city for three days trying to find her. How is she hiding so well?” asked Hex.

“We think we know a general location,” said AJ.“The body of Echo Hardy was found wrapped in a white sheet, thrown into the Seine sometime between noon yesterday and two a.m. this morning when the body was found. Apparent cause of death at this time is myocardial infarction.”

“On a thirty-year-old woman?” frowned Tillie. “Is that even possible?”

“It would be if she had a history of heart disease, but she did not. We believe she was given something to speed that process up and ensure her death. Given where she was found, the currents, and the state of her body, we’ve got about nine hotels for you to check.”

“It’s a start,” said Luke. “Let’s go.”

As Luke opened the front door, he was surprised to see Han Ho Nahm standing on the stoop of their home with his bodyguards.

“Mr. Robicheaux, I assume,” he said calmly.

“You assume correctly, Mr. Nahm. What can we do for you?” said Luke in an equally calm tone and demeanor.

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