“No. I mean, I did see her at the hospital yesterday, but I went there to visit someone else.”

“Who?”

“A former client.”

“Do you always bring flowers to former clients who are in the hospital?”

“If I liked them, I do.”

“Uh-huh. So you just happened to go see this client at the same time that Ms. Frederick was coming on to her shift?”

“I guess so. I don’t understand what you’re getting at.”

Jackson smiled. “Nothing, really. We’re just talking to everyone who’s seen Ms. Frederick recently to see if they have any idea who might be harassing her.”

Moore’s eyes narrowed for a split second, then his expression went completely blank. He knew Jackson was fishing and he wasn’t taking the bait. “I’m afraid I can’t help you with that,” Moore said. “Until today, I haven’t seen Emma since the day she moved to Dallas. I wasn’t even aware she’d moved back to New Orleans until I saw the news story about the situation with her husband.”

“But you didn’t get in touch with her then.”

“No. I thought about it, but I ultimately decided that it would be intrusive and she needed time with those closest to her.”

“That was considerate of you.” Jackson rose from his chair. “Thanks for your time, Mr. Moore. If you can think of anything that could help Ms. Frederick, please give us a call.”

Jackson could feel Moore’s eyes on him as he exited the office, but the lawyer never uttered a word. Jackson supposed he could have asked Moore where he was the night before when someone placed the mice beside Emma’s car, but he knew the answer would be “in bed.” That’s what any intelligent person would say, whether or not it was the truth. A lawyer, criminal or no, would know that with certainty.

The money, connections, and lawyer thing made Moore a difficult nut to crack. To get information on the man would require skill, cleverness, and some possible sneakiness. Jackson was capable of all three, and would gladly incorporate them to get what he needed. He pushed open the door to the law office and stepped out onto the sidewalk. Jackson may not have gotten much out of Moore, but he suspected Shaye’s intuition was right about one thing: the man’s interest in Emma Frederick hadn’t gone away.

###

Shaye knocked on the barracks door and waited. The drive had seemed twice as long as it actually was. Even worse, all that time to think had yielded no revelations, so all she accomplished was a sore lower back and the discovery that her SUV rattled a bit at high speeds, and she needed to take it in for service. Her anxiety level seemed to have crept up with every mile. If she didn’t find out something useful, then it would be an entire day wasted, and something told her she didn’t have much time left before the stalker made his final move.

The door opened and a guy who’d clearly been asleep looked out at her. “Yeah?” he said.

“I’m looking for Paul Schaffer,” she said. “Is he here?”

The young man shook his head. “Paul shipped out today.”

Shaye didn’t even bother to try to hide her disappointment. “I don’t suppose there’s any way I could contact him.”

“Not until he’s at base camp,” the young man said. “Sorry.”

“What the hell are you talking about?” Another soldier yanked open the door and stared out at Shaye. “Paul leave you high and dry? The last thing that dude needs is a kid or something.”

Shaye felt a blush creep up her neck, and she pulled her identification from her wallet. “I just want to see if he can give me some information on someone he served with.”

The second soldier leaned over to see the ID while the first one turned around and shuffled off. “PI? That’s cool. Who’s the guy you’re asking about?”

“David Grange. Do you know him?”

“Nah. But if you’re looking for Paul, you’ll probably find him at the bar.”

Her pulse quickened. “He’s not deployed?”

“He was supposed to be, but he got this tooth that went so bad his eye was swollen shut. He had surgery yesterday so he couldn’t ship today.”

“And you think he’s at the bar, why?”

“Thing hurt like hell but the docs aren’t big on handing out painkillers. I listened to him moan and complain half the night. I figure he went straight for a bottle of whiskey as soon as the doors opened. Freedom Bar. Just down the street from the base.”

“Thank you.”

“No problem.” He winked at her and shut the door. Shaye headed back to her SUV and drove out of the base.

The Freedom Bar was easy to find and didn’t appear to have many patrons. She suspected that drastically changed as night approached. Lucky for her, Paul should be easy to find. The bar had the windows covered with thick shades, and she blinked a couple times to focus in the dim light. A soldier occupied a single table at the back of the bar. The right side of his face was puffy and his right eye was swollen.

She walked up to his table. “Is that dentist recommended?”

He looked up at her, clutching a glass of whiskey in his right hand and a handful of peanuts in his left. “Depends on who’s asking. You the dentist police?”

“You’re Paul Schaffer, right?” She pulled out her identification and his eyes widened. “Mind if I take a seat?”

“Go ahead,” he said, but he didn’t sound sure at all. “What’s this about?”

“I’m trying to get some background information for a client.”

“On me?”

“No. On David Grange.”

Paul’s expression darkened and he shook his head. “I don’t have anything to say about David Grange.”

“Why not?”

“Because can’t no good come of it.”

Shaye studied him a bit as he picked at a napkin, shredding the end of it. He was definitely worried. Time to find out about what.

“Good or not,” Shaye said, “that’s the job I’m here to do.”

Paul lifted his eyes to hers. “What’s he done?”

Shaye was momentarily taken aback. “You don’t know?”

He shook his head.

“Last month, David’s wife killed him.”

Paul’s eyes widened and there was no mistaking his expression. His shock was real. But there was something else Shaye saw in the look he gave her. Something that didn’t quite make sense.

Relief.

“Wow,” he said. “Is she going to prison or something?”

“No. It was self-defense.”

He didn’t seem remotely surprised at that revelation.

“I’m surprised no one told you,” Shaye said.

Paul shrugged. “David wasn’t exactly the friendly sort. When he finished his last tour and left, I doubt he asked for anyone’s phone number. I’m certain no one asked for his.”

Shaye frowned. “See, that confuses me. Because my understanding is that you helped David get his job in New Orleans.”

“Whoever told you that lied. I haven’t had anything to do with David since we left Iraq. I damned sure wouldn’t vouch for him. Who said I did?”

Shaye had no idea what was going on, but this meeting wasn’t going anything at all like she’d figured it would. Paul seemed to be negating everything Ron said, but why would Ron lie? What could possibly be in it for him?

“Ron Duhon,” she said, watching Paul closely to gauge his reaction.

It didn’t take a genius to figure out what he was thinking. Paul scowled and his face flushed red. He slammed his glass down on the table and the bartender looked over at them. “Sorry, man,” Paul said and the man went back to wiping down the bar.

“I take it you don’t like Ron either?” she asked.

“Ron…David…same person.”

Shaye froze. That wasn’t possible. Sure, they looked a lot alike, but David Grange was dead and Ron Duhon was very much alive. “I don’t understand.”

“Look, we were all in the same unit in Iraq. Most of us had served together before, but David was new. Ron and I are from the same town and our moms are best friends, but I never liked him. He was always an outsider in high school, the weirdo, you know? And that didn’t change any here. But for whatever reason, he latched onto David and the two of them got tight.”