That should be enough to get the police to question Ron. She bit her lower lip. Shouldn’t it?

Before she could change her mind, she pressed Ron’s phone number.

You have reached a number that has been disconnected or is no longer in service…

What the hell? She hung up and checked the number in her history. That was definitely the one she’d used to call Ron the day before. She hit the number again. A couple seconds later, the message repeated.

She scrolled down and found the number for Wellman Oil and Gas and dialed. Greta answered the phone.

“Hi, this is Shaye Archer. I talked to some of your employees a couple days ago.”

“Of course, Ms. Archer,” Greta said. “What can I help you with?”

“I tried to reach Ron Duhon, but his cell phone has been disconnected. Did he provide you with a new number?”

“No. I’m afraid Mr. Duhon is no longer employed by Wellman Oil and Gas.”

“Can you tell me why?”

“He called yesterday and said he had another job and wouldn’t be back. The crew manager was fit to be tied, as Ron was supposed to go offshore tomorrow.”

“Did he say where he was going?”

“I’m sorry, but no.”

“Would you mind giving me his home address?”

“Not at all. Let me look it up.” Greta was silent for a couple seconds, then gave Shaye the address.

“Thank you,” Shaye said.

“No problem. Have a great day!”

Shaye tossed her cell phone onto the passenger’s seat. As soon as she hit Interstate 49, she pressed the accelerator down, hurtling her SUV forward. The four-and-half-hour drive stretched in front of her like an eternity. Ron already had a day’s jump on her, and now he was getting another. Another day to cover his tracks, plant more misdirection, set up alibis.

Or finish the job.

###

Eleonore inched forward across the bedroom until Corrine made it to her sitting room couch and sank onto the overstuffed cushions. “You’re hovering,” Corrine said as she looked up at Eleonore.

“I have a medical degree. When our friends are injured we’re required to hover. I’m pretty sure I took an oath.”

Corrine smiled. “I’m fine. Really. As long as I don’t have to sprint. If that need arises, just go ahead and shoot me.”

Eleonore walked over to the bar and pulled out a bottle of whiskey. She poured Corrine a shot and handed it to her. “That should take the edge off.”

Corrine took the shot and glanced over at the bar. “I’ll have Marie move everything to the pantry.”

“Please don’t go to any trouble. I’m not an addict looking for a fix. Me and your whiskey are safe.”

“You’re sure?” Corrine already felt bad enough that Shaye’s treatment had kicked Eleonore off the wagon. She didn’t want to tempt her further. Not that she knew much about Eleonore’s trouble with alcohol. Her friend rarely mentioned it and had never provided details.

Eleonore sat on a chair next to her and sighed. “Look, I had a drinking problem before, but I’m not your average alcoholic. It’s not something I crave all the time, never was. It’s a crutch, just like food or drugs or church or whatever else people use to escape reality for a bit. That’s an explanation, not an excuse, by the way. And this time, it won’t get out of control.”

“How can you be sure?”

“Simple. Because my tastes have improved, and I’m lazy and cheap.”

“I don’t understand.”

“I never liked wine or beer—scotch was always my drink of choice, and I’ve found that I can’t stomach even a sip of the cheap stuff. Carlin’s Beverages is the closest place that carries the brand I like, and it’s a five-mile drive across the middle of the city. Besides, have you seen the price on a good bottle of scotch? Good Lord, I almost fainted.”

Corrine smiled. Eleonore always made light of things, especially when she knew they’d weigh on Corrine, but this time, Corrine decided she could take her friend at her word. Eleonore might hedge on some things, but she had never outright lied to Corrine. If her friend said she could handle it, then Corrine had no doubt Eleonore thought she could.

She downed the shot and handed the glass back to Eleonore. “Normally, I would say it’s too early, but since I’ve been sitting in that awful hospital bed all morning, and my back and ribs are killing me, I’m going to say make it a double.”

“Didn’t the hospital give you something for pain?”

“Yeah, advice. They told me to take some aspirin.”

Eleonore gave her a disgusted look. “Aspirin? What is their problem?”

“Too many addicts faking back injuries to scam drugs is my guess.”

“You’re a social worker who was pushed down a flight of stairs while you were doing your job. Hardly an addict looking for a fix.”

“Two social workers were arrested last week for dealing drugs to case parents. Want to take a guess where they got the drugs?”

“Jesus H. Christ.” Eleonore pulled a pad of paper out of her purse and scribbled on it. “This is the big advantage of being a medical doctor rather than a psychologist. I’ll give this to your housekeeper to get filled, and don’t let the pain get too bad before you take one.”

“Thanks.”

Eleonore cocked her head to the side and studied Corrine for several seconds. “Have you considered a job with less risk?”

“Now you sound like my father.”

“A successful man who has never been shoved down a flight of stairs.”

“If some of his business competitors got the chance, that could change.”

“Touché. Look, I see this as a wake-up call. Things are changing. Every day this city gets more dangerous than the day before. People care less and hold grudges more. You walked into an abandoned building alone on the basis of an anonymous phone call. If those painters hadn’t shown up… I’m not saying you should quit. I know what the job means to you, but I think you need to stop taking some of the risks you do.”

“I know. I’ve thought about little else all day. This wasn’t the first time someone’s taken a swipe at me. You know that, but it’s the first time it was calculated. Most of the lumps I’ve taken have been due to emotional outbursts while I was conducting an on-site visit.”

Eleonore nodded. “Not premeditation.”

Corrine locked her gaze on Eleonore’s. “Don’t tell anyone, especially Shaye, but this scared the shit out of me. When he was standing over me, I knew with absolute certainty that I was going to die.” Tears welled and she rubbed her nose with her finger. “Now all I can think is ‘what if.’”

Eleonore reached over and put her hand on Corrine’s arm. “Me too, honey. Me too.”

###

Shaye pulled up in front of the apartment building and parked. She pulled her nine-millimeter out of her purse and tucked it in her waistband under her shirt. After talking with Paul, she knew what Ron was capable of. No way was he getting the jump on her while she struggled to pull her gun out of her purse. She wasn’t about to be that evening news story.

As she walked up the sidewalk to the building, she questioned, once again, the insanity of what she was doing. What was she going to say to Ron if he was there? Hi, I talked to Paul and you’re a psycho? And how was she supposed to get a picture of him standing in front of him? Her current plan was to ascertain Ron was home, ask a couple of innocuous follow-up questions, then wait across the street for Ron to leave the apartment. Her camera was always in her car and the telephoto lens she had would make Ron look like he was standing in front of her, even from a half block away.

The building had three breezeways with the apartment doors off of them that dead-ended at the back of the building. The end of the first breezeway was where Ron’s apartment was located. As she walked down the breezeway, she realize how isolated she was. The apartments contained no windows on the front facing the breezeway, and the angle of the building made her passage invisible to anyone except another person in the same stretch. Essentially, she was in a tunnel with one exit and no view to outsiders.