If I could have gotten up and shaken him without the guard seeing or hearing, I would have. "It is important, Rowan. Tell me everything he told you. Don't leave anything out, got me?"
"Well, my memory ain't so great. Doc here says it's because of the drugs, but-"
I rapped my knuckles on the table. "Yes, Rowan. It's the drugs. Every fucking ounce of lye and turpentine you've stabbed into your veins or inhaled into your lungs is eating away at your brain. But focus, and tell me about the phone call. Every word."
He thinned his lips and then put his elbows on the table. "Well, he called me up, said he needed to talk about Chip."
"Chip?" The name Caroline had gotten from the hooker. Was this our guy?
"Yeah. He's a guy we knew. Used to come visit sometimes. Real nice." Rowan shifted in his seat again and looked down. "Or at least I thought he was."
"What did Tyler tell you about Chip?"
"Said he was pissed about me getting nabbed. Said he didn't want me to talk."
"Talk about what?"
He put his hands on the table and picked at his grubby thumbnail. "Well, I ain't supposed to say. That's what Tyler said."
I lowered my voice, so low it could barely be heard. It was the best way to ensure that Rowan would listen. "Tyler was killed, and his death is going to be blamed on you. Tell me who Chip is, and tell me right fucking now."
He flinched at my stare. "He's this guy. He had parties. We would get invited."
"What parties? Where?"
"I don't remember. I was always fucked up when we went. We were just supposed to round up some girls and take them over. It was like, maybe once a month, sometimes less. This guy owned a nice big house, and he'd just go, I don't know, kind of crazy every so often."
"Where in the city? What house?"
"It was really rich. I don't know. Garden maybe?"
"What happened at the parties?"
He dropped his eyes again, and it was as if I could see the lie forming in his mind.
"Nothing much. Just girls dancing, coke and stuff."
"What else, Rowan?"
He looked back to me, but this time there was fear in his eyes. "Worse stuff. Bad stuff."
"Like what?"
"I didn't do any of this, man. I need you to know I just watched. I didn't do it. Okay?" He took a deep breath. "Chip would pick one girl who was high as fuck and string her up. Truss her up like she was caught in a spiderweb, you know?" He scrubbed a hand over his bald pate. "And then he would hurt her."
"How?"
"Fuck, man, I don't know." He bit his filthy nails. "He would hit her. Him and Tyler both. They would punch and bite and hit her with stuff. Sometimes they would cut the girls. They both had some crazy skill with knives. They could draw with them, you know? Like art like a painter would do, but with knives and blood instead."
I tamped down my revulsion at the man sitting across from me who would willingly sit by and let such horrors happen right in front of him. "What else do you know about Chip?"
"I only met him a few times. Him and Tyler were friends. I just liked going to the parties."
"Describe him."
"Tall as me. Sort of dark hair with gray in it. Older. And he had really creepy eyes. Like they were light, real light blue I think. That's all I know."
The truth hit like a bat to the face. "Luke."
"Who?"
"Did Tyler ever talk about his brother?"
"Brother? I didn't know he had one."
"Fuck. Guard!"
Rowan's eyes opened wide. "What, what did I say?"
"What you should have said when we first met." I went to the door and banged on it. "Let me the fuck out!"
I needed to get back to town, back to Caroline, and discuss our next move. The Bayou Butcher wasn't sitting here with me in this cell. He was in a high-rise in downtown New Orleans.
Chapter Twenty-one
CAROLINE
Luke beat me to the coffee shop and was already situated at a corner table with two steaming cups of coffee laid out. I sank down, fatigue rushing through me even though it was still morning. He sipped his drink as I added cream and sugar to mine. The shop smelled wonderful, and I eyed the pastry case a little too hard.
"Coffee always seems to perk me up. Though I'm not sure how much good it's going to do given these circumstances." He shook his head and stared into his cup.
"I'm sorry, Luke. I know I keep saying that, but it's true." I wrapped my hands around my mug, relishing the warmth on my palms.