As Shaye drove to the café, she struggled to get a handle on David Grange. Certainly suffering or even witnessing atrocities shaped a person, and PTSD was common for people who had experienced something traumatic, but she was still having trouble reconciling the person Emma described before he went to Iraq with the person who had returned. What had happened while he was overseas that could force him that quickly into a complete one-eighty?

The people she really needed to talk to were those who served with David, but Emma didn’t know any of their names, and the military sure as hell wasn’t going to hand her over a list of what amounted to suspects. If this Ron was really David’s cousin, then maybe he’d have another avenue for her to run down.

The coffee shop was in the Tremé, tucked between an apartment building and an art shop. Shaye entered the shop and looked around, almost doing a double take when she spotted the man who had to be Ron, sitting in the back corner. He looked up at her and she waved, then headed over to him. As she got closer, the differences between him and David emerged. Ron’s cheekbones weren’t as prominent as David’s and his jaw wasn’t as square, but they looked enough alike that Ron could have passed for David, especially in moonlight. The build was the same, and the haircut and color matched the photos she’d seen.

“Ron Duhon?” Shaye asked as she stepped up to the table.

“Yeah. You the PI?”

She pulled out a chair and sat down across from him. “I’m Shaye. Thanks for meeting me.”

“No problem. You said this is about David?”

“Yes. I’m trying to get some information on him—his friends, family, past. I understand you were cousins.”

Ron shook his head. “Nah. I mean, that’s what I said to get him the interview, but I didn’t know the guy.”

“Then why would you vouch for him as family?”

“Lots of people are looking for work, especially with more of the military guys coming home. I had a buddy from high school who served with David. He said David needed a job in New Orleans and asked if I’d help him out.”

“That was kinda risky, wasn’t it?”

He frowned. “I didn’t think so when I did it. I mean, my buddy vouched for him. David was military and his wife was a nurse. I did eight years serving, so I figured he was a good dude and could use a break.”

“Uh-huh, and how did that turn out for you?”

“Not so well. I caught some crap from the other guys over the way David acted. Sometimes he was cool, but other times, he could be a real asshole to work with. Sorry for the cussing, but I don’t really have a better word for it.”

“That’s okay. I’ve already heard that description a time or two today.”

“I bet.”

“Did David ever mention any other family besides Emma?”

Ron shook his head. “He didn’t talk about much personal stuff, just about cars sometimes. When he was feeling sociable.”

“Can you tell me how to contact this high school buddy of yours?”

“Man, I don’t know. I don’t want to get him in trouble. He was just trying to help the guy out. He didn’t know the dude was going to lose it like he did.”

“No one could have known that, and no one is responsible for David’s actions but David.”

“I guess so. His name is Paul Schaffer. I don’t have his number. He called from the base. I think he was being deployed again, though.”

“He’s from New Orleans?”

“Natchez.”

“Does he live on base when he’s stateside?”

He shook his head. “Sorry. I didn’t ask. We’re not close or anything. He just calls me up when he’s in town and we have a couple beers.”

Shaye made a note of the name in her phone. “You know if he’s planning a beer call anytime soon?”

“I doubt it. Like I said, I think he’s back over. Not sure I’d go this time, anyway.”

“Why not?”

“There was some things David said…talking about stuff they did overseas.”

“Like what?”

“He never gave me any details. The hints were bad enough. I got the impression the other guys in the unit were happy when the tour was over and David left.”

Shaye frowned. Emma said David changed after his last tour, so whatever caused his shift in personality had happened while he was in Iraq. Ron seemed to be verifying that idea. Maybe this Paul had gotten him into things he couldn’t handle once the dust cleared and the bombs stopped exploding.

“Do you need me for anything else?” Ron asked. “I need to get my girlfriend some cough medicine…”

“No, we’re good. Thanks for meeting me.” She handed him her card. “If you can think of anything else or anyone else who might know more about David, please give me a call.”

“Sure.” He shoved the card in his pocket and headed out of the café.

Shaye watched as he walked past the window of the café, hands shoved in his pockets, shoulders hunched, a slight limp favoring his right leg. He was the only person she’d interviewed who hadn’t asked her why she wanted information on David. It was odd, but then someone from the oil and gas company had probably called to warn him.

She placed some money on the table and gathered her stuff. Time to head back home and try to track down Paul Schaffer. His was the only name she had that linked to David’s time in the military. Hopefully, Schaffer would be stateside and have some answers.

Her phone rang as she exited the café. She didn’t recognize the number.

“This is Shaye Archer.”

“Ms. Archer, this is Sergeant Boyd with the New Orleans Police Department.”

Shaye’s hands tightened on the phone. Something had happened to Emma. Shaye hadn’t worked quickly enough and the stalker had gotten to her.

“What happened? Is Emma all right?”

“I don’t know an Emma, Ms. Archer. Your mother has been in an accident. She’s in New Orleans General.”

Her entire body went rigid and her breath exited in a whoosh. “Is she all right? What happened?”

“She’s in with the doctor now. I’d rather discuss this in person.”

“Of course. I’m on my way.”

She broke into a run for her car and pulled away from the curb, tires squealing. For the moment, speed limits and red lights were suggestions. She was careful not to put anyone else in danger, but broke the law at least ten times before she jolted to a stop in the emergency room parking lot. She jumped out of her car and ran through the double doors, sliding the last two feet into the reception desk.

“I’m Shaye Archer. My mother, Corrine, was in an accident?”

A tall, stocky young man wearing a police uniform exited the emergency room doors and approached her. “Ms. Archer? I’m Sergeant Boyd.”

“Where’s my mother?”

“This way.” He motioned her down the hall and they hurried into a room.

Corrine was lying in the hospital bed, an IV in her arm. Her face was puffy with scratches down the side and bruises already forming on her cheeks. Her lip was busted, and dried blood clung to her chin. Her eyes were closed and her breathing so shallow that if it weren’t for the monitors, Shaye wouldn’t have been certain she was breathing at all.

A doctor with a chart standing next to the bed looked over as they entered. “You must be Ms. Archer’s daughter. I’m Dr. Stabler.”

“Yes.” Shaye hurried over to the bed, her heart clenching. The injuries looked even worse up close. “Is she all right? What happened?”

“I don’t know exactly what happened,” Dr. Stabler said. “Only that she took a fall down the stairs in an abandoned building. Her injuries are consistent with a hard fall. She has a couple of bruised ribs and a slight concussion. She’s going to feel pretty bad for several days, and the ribs will bother her for a lot longer, but she’s going to be fine.”

The breath Shaye had been holding escaped and she felt her knees buckle. She clutched the bed railing to steady herself. “Is she unconscious?”

“No. She’s sleeping, probably her body’s way of getting past the pain. I want to keep her here tonight for sure and run tests again tomorrow. Then I can assess when she can leave.”