“I know,” she said.
“I will forever be so sorry and hate myself for believing in strangers.”
“We’ve all believed the best in people who haven’t deserved to be trusted,” Dan assured him.
“I have an alibi for the night of the murders here, though! We worked until one in the morning,” he said. “This football star was ending the filming with a free kick. The star player couldn’t make the kick that night to save his life!”
Dan was quiet. Mr. and Mrs. Rodenberry might have been killed around midnight—or up to two hours after. But he had promised to have an open mind. George was staring into space, as if he could see back in time. He shook his head. “I don’t really blame you for connecting me when the second murders happened. I lived two blocks from the house where they occurred, and there are many more people than you, Dan Oliver, who figured everything about me was a sham. Please understand. I thought about taking a handful of pills several times. Then... I found out I like working long hours. Don’t ever want to be in front of a camera, but I love being a grunt when pictures are being made. I was almost...happy. And now this. But what is so bizarre now is after what happened, with everyone talking, I looked up the old Axeman of New Orleans. Witnesses saw a dark figure. It couldn’t have been. But whoever was behind me, they weren’t in a black dive skin or suit of any kind. They were wearing black, enough to appear to be a giant shadow sweeping down.”
“Here’s my suggestion, George. I’m going to inform the team you are living here. If I don’t, they’ll find out, and they’ll want to know why you didn’t come forward. Now I can say you did,” Dan told him.
“There goes my job,” George said.
“Why?” Dan asked him.
“People will associate me with—”
“No. Law enforcement needs to know, not the general public. Do you have any money?”
George frowned, and swinging around to look at him, Katie frowned, too.
“I, uh, yeah... I’m comfortable. Not rich, comfortable.”
“Here’s my suggestion. You check into a hotel that uses key cards. You get yourself into bed as early as possible, and you don’t open your door again. That way, if someone wants to bring you to court, you have technical proof that you weren’t out killing people in the middle of the night.”
“Because this killer will kill again...here?” George asked.
“I think so. I think New Orleans and the similarity to the old Axeman were always in the killer’s mind. Where else to go into a final frenzy?” Dan asked softly.
“All right. I’ll get some things. I’ll head over to one of the big chain hotels on Canal Street. That will work, right? I can leave my car here and grab the trolley when I need to get somewhere,” George said.
Dan was afraid Katie was going to suggest that George should stay with her.
“I’d have you with one of us, George, except our hours on this might be ragged, and it’s best if you’re covered.”
He wasn’t sure if Katie bought it or not. She was just staring at him.
George nodded again and then rose, heading for his bedroom to pack a few things.
Dan saw Katie was still staring at him.
“Is that real?”
“Yes. When you have key cards, there is a record of when doors open and close.”
“Even if you don’t lock them?”
“Katie, he needs to be seen by people. There are cameras in the large hotels as well. If he’s accused of something, police will have access to key-card records and security footage. It’s best for George. Trust me. Safer for him, too.”
“You think he’s in danger.”
He stared at her hard across the table. She seemed to be trusting in him.
“Not as much as you,” he said softly.
“Me?”
“You saw the woman you knew as Jennie. She saw you. If she’s alive, then she’s now a key suspect in your parents’ murders. Yes, you’re in danger now.”
“Thank God for the boys,” she murmured.
“Katie, the dogs may not be enough.”
“I am not going to a hotel, too. Dan. Believe me, I don’t want to be anyone’s victim, but—”
“Here comes George. We’ll talk about it later.”
George was coming out of his room with a small suitcase. “I’m ready. Hey, you can put an ankle monitor on me, if you like.”
“George, at the moment, I’m looking after you.”
“I see that,” George said. He glanced at Katie. “How in God’s name did you convince him I’m not a crazed murderer?”
“I’m not sure I did,” Katie said. “But I do believe he’s trying to protect you. So, we need to lock up and get you to safety.”
They all stood and headed for the door. They waited as George locked up his house. He looked back at it as they walked to Dan’s car.
“The old Axeman chiseled out panels to get in houses. He used the axes owned by the people he attacked,” he said. He looked at Katie woefully. “Thankfully, I don’t own an axe.”
Katie gave him a weak smile, and they all piled into the SUV.
As they drove, Katie asked him, “Does the number six mean anything to you?” she asked.
“Six?” George said. He shrugged. “I’m sure it’s something in numerology. And I’m willing to bet there are a dozen mediums working their shops or out by the cathedral and Jackson Square who could tell you about the number. I mean, I guess all numbers mean something. Why?”
“Curious. It just seems to be a thing around the city,” Katie said.
“Six. Hm. Don’t know. Bet your father would have, Katie,” he said.
“Maybe.”
Dan headed back across the bridge, and as they came to Canal, he asked George which hotel he would like.
George shrugged and grinned. “Harrah’s. No, not a good idea now. I might be out in the middle of the night. I like cards. Discovered that a little late, but yeah, I like cards.”
“So—”
“Right there. That one is good!”
Dan drove around
