by Jana DeLeon
Every time Emma started to dial Shaye’s number, a range of thoughts went through her mind from “she’s checking on her mother” to “what if Shaye’s phone rings while she’s sneaking up on Ron for a picture and he catches her?” So far, she’d ended up sliding the phone back into her pocket, deciding the risk to Shaye was too great.
If she was being honest with herself, Emma also felt guilty. After her conversation with the detective that morning, Shaye had called her, trying to convince her to go to the police with all the evidence they had so far. It wasn’t that Emma had found fault in Shaye’s arguments, but the truth was, after she’d discovered the bracelet, she’d driven straight to the hospital and hidden in the break room until her shift started, too afraid to leave.
She’d tried calling the police, but the person who’d taken her call hadn’t been helpful at all, insisting that she had to come to the police station to file a report. Emma supposed she could have tried harder to get an officer dispatched to the hospital to take a statement, but given the prejudice the police already seemed to have against her, she simply didn’t want the hassle. She promised herself she’d go in tomorrow, right after she gave her notice.
Her phone vibrated in her hand and she jerked, spilling coffee onto her hand. She gasped as the hot liquid scorched her skin and immediately tossed the Styrofoam cup into the garbage. As she turned on the cold water in the sink, she checked the display and saw it was Shaye. She shoved her burned hand under the cool stream and answered the call.
“Are you all right?” Emma asked.
“Yes,” Shaye said. “I’m sorry I couldn’t call sooner.”
“Did you get the picture?”
“No. Ron’s disappeared.”
Emma stiffened. “What?”
“He quit his job with no notice and his girlfriend kicked him out a week ago for slapping her around. He picked up his clothes yesterday and told her he had a new job in Alaska.”
“What do you think that means?”
“I don’t know for sure, but I’m worried it means he’s about to flee New Orleans.”
Emma clutched the phone, her voice catching. “He…he won’t leave as long as I’m alive.”
“That’s the part that worries me. Are you staying at the hospital tonight?”
“Yes.”
“Good. I’m going to contact the cop I talked to earlier and see what he can do about Ron. I filled the girlfriend in on everything, and she’s going to file charges tomorrow. At least the cops will go looking for him then. Maybe by the time they find him, I’ll have something for them to use to hold him.”
“If they pick him up, how long can they hold him?”
“Forty-eight hours. Then they have to charge him or let him walk.”
Emma blew out a breath. Forty-eight hours wasn’t a lot of time, but it might be enough to hand over her house to Patty, do something about her car situation, and get the hell out of New Orleans.
“I’m quitting my job tomorrow morning,” Emma said. “I need to meet Patty sometime tomorrow to give her a house key and pack up some of my stuff, but I’m leaving.”
“I don’t blame you. I’ll collect your stuff at the hotel tomorrow morning and take you to your house to meet Patty. Then we’ll deal with your car situation.”
“None of that falls in your job description.”
“I work for you. Keeping you safe seems like a good way to spend my time and your money.”
Emma smiled. “I guess I can’t argue with that. I’m glad I met you, Shaye. For so many reasons, but mostly because I’d lost faith in people. You and some others have brought it back.”
“When we feel surrounded by evil,” Shaye said quietly, “it’s easy to forget that the world also has good, but it’s there. We both have to keep believing that.”
A sliver of peace ran through Emma. If after everything Shaye had been through, she was able to have a positive outlook, then Emma could too. Maybe not today, or tomorrow, but sometime, when this was all behind her. It gave her hope for the future, something she’d lost sight of.
“Go look after your mother,” Emma said. “This mess will be waiting for both of us tomorrow.”
“I will. Don’t leave the hospital for any reason, and tell that security guard friend of yours to keep watch for a man who looks similar to David.”
“I’ll show him a picture of David. He’s keeping watch.”
“Good. Stay safe, Emma.”
Emma ended the call and slipped her phone back into her scrubs. Ron’s disappearance was frightening on so many levels, but she couldn’t help feeling a tiny bit elated that they’d finally identified her stalker. He had a face and a name and most importantly, a connection to David. The connection that had been missing since the beginning.
An end was in sight. All she had to do was stay alive until Ron was behind bars.
###
Shaye directed her SUV toward the Garden District and called Jackson. He answered on the first ring.
“You got a minute?” she asked.
“I’ve got all the time you need. Did you find out anything at Fort Polk?”
She filled him in on her visit with Paul, Ron’s disappearing act, and the cooperation of his now terrified ex-girlfriend. “Is it enough to pick him up?”
“If the girlfriend makes the complaint, sure. Assuming we can find him.”
“Yeah, that’s the part that concerns me. I don’t necessarily believe he’s headed to Alaska, but I do believe he’s leaving town, just not before he finishes the job.”
“Where is Emma?”
Shaye pulled to a stop at a red light. “At work now, and she’s going to stay at the hospital until morning. They have some sort of employee room with cots in case they’re stuck overnight with a patient.”
“Good. That’s probably the safest place she could be right now, in New Orleans, anyway.”
“That’s what I thought. Did you get anything on Stephen Moore?”
“Yeah, in fact, I was just about to call you,” he said. “I paid Moore a visit.” He filled her in on what he’d discovered.
Shaye frowned. If she weren’t set on Ron being the stalker, Moore would definitely fill some of the slots. “I still think Ron’s our guy, but it sounds like Moore could become a problem or even be part of the problem. Maybe everything that’s been happening wasn’t the result of only one person.”
“It’s possible. Given what Schaffer told you about Ron and David, I agree that he’s probably the stalker, but I think Moore’s definitely capable of slipping across the line of legal and illegal, assuming he hasn’t already. At least now he’s on notice. Sometimes that’s all it takes to get someone to back off.”
“I hope you’re right,” Shaye said. “Did you turn up anything else on David?”
“Unfortunately, no. The man seemed to have materialized at age eighteen.”
“Which makes things all that more suspicious.”
“I get the feeling that this entire thing goes so much deeper than it appears. Way before his military service even.”
Shaye had shared the same feeling for a while now. The fact that Jackson felt the same way only confirmed her belief. “I know. The more I learn, the more I feel like I’m just scratching the surface. Everything I’ve found so far is awful…” She cut off her sentence before she admitted something she wasn’t willing to share with someone she barely knew.
“You’re almost afraid of the answer,” Jackson finished. “So am I.”
A feeling of relief and something else entirely swept through her. She frowned, trying to put her finger on it, and suddenly realized it was a connection. She felt a bond with Jackson that she had never felt for anyone but Corrine and Eleonore. It wasn’t as strong, but it was there—troubling and scary as hell.
She shook her head, refocusing on the case. There was plenty of time to work out her personal issues when Ron was behind bars and Emma could go on with her life. Right now, the only thing that mattered was finding Ron befo
re he took his final shot at Emma.
“I’m pulling into my mom’s house, so I’ve got to get off the phone.”
“No problem. If the girlfriend shows tomorrow like she says she’s going to, I’ll let you know what happens. I’ll try to get on the case, but unfortunately, I don’t have much pull on those things.”
His frustration was so evident, and Shaye felt sorry for the position he was in. She had known from the moment she started her college job with a detective agency that she would never be able to work for someone else. The agency she worked for was one of the largest in the city, with fifteen investigators on staff and tons of cases moving through the office. Between her three-year stint there and listening to Corrine’s tales of bureaucratic job horror, Shaye was certain she needed to own her own business, preferably one that required a single employee—her.
“I appreciate anything you can manage,” Shaye said. “I know your hands are tied.”
“Thank you. And Shaye?”
“Yeah?”
“Don’t let down your guard. He might come after you as part of his farewell tour.”
Shaye hung up the phone and pulled up to the electric gate in front of her mother’s home, noting the unmarked police car parked across the street. She punched in the code and the gate slid back, allowing her to drive through, then closed silently behind her. Eleonore’s silver Mercedes was in the middle of the circular drive with Pierce’s black Aston Martin slotted behind her.
Shaye sighed. She wasn’t in the mood to deal with all of them at one time, but given the situation, she supposed it couldn’t be avoided. On the upside, given that he’d just spent a day on an airplane, Pierce wouldn’t stay long, and Eleonore had been on duty all day. Surely she’d be ready to escape to a hot shower and her favorite recliner.
Shaye let herself in the front door and heard the chattering upstairs coming from the direction of her mother’s bedroom. She took the stairs two at a time and found all three of them in Corrine’s sitting room. Her grandfather gave her a broad smile as soon as she entered the room, and she went over to give him a hug. If an ad agency had needed a model for the successful businessman look, Pierce would have been a shoo-in. At fifty-nine, he was fit and tanned, and the silver running through his black hair seemed to make women swoon. But then with his power and pocketbook, he could sport a purple mullet and women would still chase him. So far, Corrine’s mother was the only one who’d ever caught him.
“I hear you’ve taken on your first client?” he said.
“Yes,” Shaye said. The one-word answer was intentional. The more Pierce knew about her work, the more he would badger her to take a position at Archer Manufacturing. Some boring, unfulfilling nightmare that would pay her too much and have everyone else resenting her. No thanks.
“I guess you did enough insurance work for the other agency, so you know the ropes.”
She nodded, then glanced over at Corrine and Eleonore, who both shook their heads. Clearly, the three of them were on the same page as to how much information Pierce needed about the women in his life.
“I still want you to be careful,” Pierce said. “This situation with your mother concerns me. I’ve always worried that she’d be targeted by one of my enemies or one of those crazy people she deals with. It’s going to take a magician to sort it out.”
“I’m sure the police are doing all that they can,” Shaye said, struggling with the weight of everything that she suspected and that the police didn’t know.
“Damn right they are. And after I meet with the captain tomorrow, they’ll be doing even more.”
Corrine stared at him in dismay. “Dad, please don’t go down there raising hell. The police have been wonderful, and I don’t want special treatment. Other people in New Orleans have had crimes committed against them as well. They’re all important.”
Pierce turned around to look down at Corrine. “Not as important as you are to me.” He leaned over and kissed her cheek. “I promise not to embarrass you, but I’m still paying them a visit. Eleonore, always a pleasure seeing you.” He gave Shaye a hug. “Good luck with that case. Call me if you need anything.”
“I will,” Shaye said. “Thanks.”
Pierce smiled at them and exited the room. As soon as they heard the front door close behind him, Shaye plopped down on the couch next to Corrine and they all relaxed.
“I love him to death,” Corrine said, “but he’s a stubborn and exhausting man.”
“With only one child, who was attacked by a maniac,” Eleonore said, “but I don’t disagree with either sentiment.”
“I take it no one told him I’m not working an insurance case?” Shaye asked.
“Good God, no,” Corrine said. “The three of us would never hear the end of it. And believe me, he’d hold all of us responsible. He’d never believe for a minute that you’re just as stubborn as he is and wouldn’t take good advice from Jesus himself if it was contrary to what you wanted to do.”
“So true,” Eleonore said. “On all counts.”
Shaye snorted. “My grandfather is an amateur nagger compared to the two of you.”
“I take issue with that,” Eleonore said. “Psychiatrists do not nag. We’re licensed to tell you the best way to live your life. You people just refuse to listen.” She rose from the couch. “Since the next shift has arrived, I’m going to take off. I hear a hot bath and leftover lasagna calling my name. Walk me out, Shaye, and we’ll coordinate our schedules for tomorrow.”
“I don’t need a babysitter,” Corrine griped. “I have a security guard, courtesy of my dad, two policemen in an unmarked car circling the block, and a maid. Besides, this place is wired up better than Fort Knox.”
“Uh-huh,” Eleonore said, and waved Shaye toward the door.
Shaye followed Eleonore downstairs, but instead of heading for the front door, Eleonore walked straight through the entry and headed for the kitchen at the back of the house.
“Is everything all right?” Shaye asked, worried that Corrine wasn’t doing as well as she seemed to be.
Eleonore stopped walking and whipped around to look her straight in the eyes. “You tell me.”
“What…I don’t understand.”
“There’s something you’re not telling us. Your mother may have missed that flash of guilt on your face earlier, but I didn’t.”
Crap. Shaye had tried hard to keep up her pleasant facade, but she should have known Eleonore would catch even the slightest blip. “There is something bothering me, but I’ll only speak about it in a professional capacity.”
Eleonore narrowed her eyes. “Your profession or mine?”
“Yours.”
“Shit.”
“Take it or leave it.”
Eleonore knew exactly what Shaye was up to. If Shaye gave her information patient to psychiatrist, nothing she said could be repeated, not even to Corrine. So the choice was to know what Shaye was hiding but not be able to tell anyone, or not know at all.
“This goes against all my better judgment,” Eleonore said, “but consider us in session. Lay it on me.”
Shaye told Eleonore about the fabric swatch she’d found in Corrine’s purse.
“Damn it!” Eleonore exploded. “You’re telling me the man stalking your client did this to your mother?”
“I think so. But I can’t tell her,” Shaye said. “If she knew, she’d insist I quit the case, and you know I can’t do that. Emma needs my help. When I refused to quit, mother would insist on helping, and that could get us all killed.”
“Like you’re experienced with stalkers? Shaye, this man is terrorizing a woman, and I can only assume his ultimate goal is to kill her. You’re not qualified to deal with that any more than Corrine is.”
“I’m not dealing with it alone. There’s a cop helping me, and besides, I’m pretty sure I’ve figured out who the stalker is. If everything goes right tomorrow, the police will pick him up for questioning. By that time, I think I’ll have enough evidence for them t
o hold him.”
Shaye deliberately left out the fact that Ron was in the wind and that even if his ex-girlfriend filed a report on him, the police might not be able to find him. Those details would only make Eleonore worry more. If the cops couldn’t find Ron tomorrow, then she’d consider telling Corrine the truth.
“How can you be sure you’ve got the right guy?” Eleonore asked.
Shaye gave Eleonore a rundown of Ron and his military past with David. Eleonore’s expression grew grim.
“You’re talking about sociopaths,” Eleonore said.
“I know. Even if I hadn’t studied them in school, we’ve talked about them enough for me to recognize the signs.”
Eleonore reached out to grab her hand. “Promise me you won’t take any risks. Promise me that you’ll carry that pistol of yours everywhere. And promise me you won’t hesitate to blow that son of a bitch away if there’s even an ice cube’s chance in hell that he can get to you.”
Shaye squeezed her hand. “I promise.”
Chapter Nineteen
Emma clocked out, then filled a cup with water and sank into a chair in the break room. The shift had felt twice as long as normal. She knew it was because of anxiety and exhaustion, but she’d kept putting on a smile, checking blood pressure, making notes, and reminding herself that this was the last time she’d be making rounds for a while. After tonight, she planned on taking some time off to get her head on straight. Her patients deserved the best she was capable of, and even though she had been competent on the job the entire time, she knew her interaction with patients wasn’t up to her personal standards.
She reached into her pocket and pulled out the prescription bottle for the sleeping pills she’d been prescribed after David had…gone. She’d taken them two nights in a row and had some of the best sleep ever, but then she’d gotten that being-watched feeling and had become afraid to sleep that soundly. Tonight, though, she was in the safest place possible. The longer she went without sleeping, the weaker her body got. And if things went really wrong, she’d need that body.
