Текст книги "Malevolent"

Автор книги: Jana Deleon

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Текущая страница: 7 (всего у книги 17 страниц)

“Thanks.” Shaye looked down at her notes. Time to ask Greta where to find the cousin Ron.

Chapter Eleven

Corrine knocked on the front door of the apartment, then listened for any movement inside. The call had come late in the afternoon, but the woman had sounded frantic, and the distant sound of a child screaming had Corrine as concerned as the caller. The woman refused to give her name but said she was visiting a friend at this address and the baby had been screaming like that for over an hour.

It was common for callers to request anonymity. Getting labeled a snitch could lead to harsh consequences in some of the areas Corrine worked. She knocked again, but still nothing. Maybe the mother had returned and left with the infant. Or maybe she’d suffocated him and was hiding inside. Corrine sighed. She’d seen both.

She twisted the doorknob and was surprised when it turned easily in her hand. The door popped open a bit. “Is anyone home? My name is Corrine. I need to talk to whoever lives here.”

She waited several seconds, but no one answered. Cracking the door another couple of inches, she peered inside and frowned. Something was wrong. She pushed the door open and stepped into the apartment. Most of the places she entered were sparse with belongings. The people she dealt with didn’t have much, but this apartment was completely empty except for a couple of faded food wrappers on the floor near the window.

She stepped over to the kitchen and ran a finger across the counter. The layer of dust it contained would take weeks, if not months, to accumulate. She pulled out her phone and checked the address again. This was the right place, and the number on the door matched the unit number she’d taken from the caller. But she was certain that no one had lived here in some time.

There were five other units on the third floor, so she exited the apartment and knocked on the door across the hall. Silence. A strange feeling came over her and she twisted the doorknob. The door popped open and she found herself looking into another abandoned apartment. A chill ran through her. She released the doorknob and whirled around.

At the end of the hall, the apartment door across from the stairs creaked open. Her chest constricted and she struggled to take in air. The building didn’t have a fire escape, and the third floor was too high to risk a jump. The only way out was that staircase. She pulled Mace from her purse and hurried down the hall for the stairs, her gaze fixed on the apartment across the hall. When she reached the stairs, she was almost at a run.

She was so focused on the apartment across the hall that she never heard the man come out of the apartment next to the stairs. When she took her first step down the stairs, hands slammed against her shoulders and sent her hurtling forward. She crashed midway down the stairs, her right shoulder and head smashing into the old wooden steps. She tried to grab hold of something, but couldn’t get a good grasp on anything.

She flipped over again and again and finally crumpled to a stop on the second-floor landing. Pain shot through her right arm and shoulder, and her ankle throbbed. A shadow passed over her and she looked up, her vision blurred. She blinked, trying to clear her eyes, and moved her left arm across the floor, desperately searching for the Mace she’d dropped on the way down.

When the shadow bent over her, she screamed. A boot connected with her temple and it felt as if her head exploded. Then everything went black.

###

Ron Duhon was on a seven-day on, seven-day off schedule, and as Shaye’s luck would have it, he happened to be on the off portion. He agreed to meet with her at a coffee shop, claiming his girlfriend was sick and he didn’t want to disturb her by having Shaye come to his apartment. Shaye took down the address, thanked Greta for all her help, and headed out of the oil company, her notes tucked under her arm.

She’d talked to five other employees who had worked semi-regularly with David, but none of them had been able to add anything to what she’d already learned from Charlie. None of them expressed as much dislike for David as Charlie had, but they all agreed that David had a temper and it was best to stay out of his way when he was in a foul mood. A couple said they were surprised to learn that he’d taken his anger out on Emma, as David appeared to really care about her, but then rage was an unpredictable thing. All five expressed some level of shock over the way things went down, but all of them seemed to think Emma had done the right thing and were sorry she’d been put in that position.

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.”

“Can I stay here with her?”

Dr. Stabler glanced at Sergeant Boyd, then looked back at her. “We don’t usually allow overnight visitors in the emergency room, but in this case, I think we can make an exception.”

“Thank you!” Relief washed through Shaye. If they hadn’t allowed her to stay in Corrine’s room, she would have spent the entire night pacing the emergency room lobby. Making the exception was easier on everyone.

“I’m going to make my rounds,” Dr. Stabler said, “but I’ll check back in before I leave.”

Shaye nodded. As soon as the door closed behind the doctor, Shaye whirled around and locked her gaze on Sergeant Boyd. “What the hell is going on? The police don’t answer calls for slip-and-falls.”

“No ma’am. We got a call from the paramedics on the scene. They said your mother had bruises on her shoulders and they thought she might have been pushed.”

“Who found her?”

“A couple of painters who were supposed to start work in the building next week, stopping by to get an estimate for supplies. Someone ran past them and knocked one of them down when they walked inside. They heard moaning and found your mother on the second-floor landing. I have officers going through the building now, but so far, it’s clean except for your mom’s footprints and boot prints in the dust.”

“Did the painters get a good look at the guy?”

“Unfortunately no. The entry faces east, so it was too dim to make out anything of relevance. They put him at six feet or so and stocky, but that’s all they could give us. We got her name from her license, and she had an ‘in case of emergency’ card in her wallet with your name and number.”

“Wait a minute.” Shaye turned to stare at the officer. “They didn’t steal her wallet?”

“No. Her wallet contained her license, the emergency contact card, one credit card, and forty dollars in cash. Her purse contained the wallet, her cell phone, car keys, lip balm, and one of those eyeglass cleaning cloths. Do you know of anything that might be missing?”

Shaye blew out a breath, trying to clear her mind and concentrate on what the officer asked. “She carried very light on the job, but she always had a can of Mace.”

Sergeant Boyd nodded. “The detectives found one on the staircase, but it hadn’t been used.”

“He got the jump on her.”

“Most likely.”

Shaye ran one hand over the top of her head. “Why was my mother in an empty building?”

“Her office said she got a call late this afternoon. A baby was screaming in the background and the caller claimed that had been going on for hours. She went to do a site check.”

“Did she get the address wrong?”

“Not according to your mother. I spoke with her briefly when I first got to the hospital. She was still a bit unclear on some of the details, but she said the address was in her cell phone. I checked the notes and it was a match for where she was found. All calls on the agency hotline are recorded and they pulled the tape and verified she took it down correctly.”

Shaye sucked in a breath. “Then that means…”

“Someone lured her into the building to attack her.”

“Oh God.” Shaye stumbled back from the bed and sat in a chair over to the side.

“Have you traced the call?”

He nodded. “Made from a disposable cell phone, paid for with cash at one of the hole-in-the-wall retailers with no cameras.”

“So you’ve got nothing.”

“I’ve already contacted her supervisor and asked for a list of people who might be holding a grudge against your mother, but given her line of work, I’m anticipating more than a couple of names. Can you think of anyone? Someone she might have mentioned at home? Someone she was scared of?”

Shaye shook her head. “Nothing that stands out from the norm. There’s always someone angry. Someone convinced the state is out to get them even though they’re horrible parents. But she hasn’t mentioned anyone in particular. Not recently, anyway.”

“Has she seemed different lately? More watchful? Worried?”

“No,” she said, hesitating a bit before answering.

“You don’t sound convinced.”

Damn. The sergeant didn’t miss much.

“She has been more worried lately, but it’s because I moved out into my own place this week.”

Sergeant Boyd’s expression changed from concerned to understanding. “My youngest moved out two weeks ago. My wife was inconsolable for days. She probably used up all his cell phone minutes in the first week.”

Shaye managed a smile. “So you’re saying this is normal? How long does it last?”

“Until one of you dies.” Sergeant Boyd frowned. “I’m sorry. That probably wasn’t the right thing to say given the situation.”

“Don’t worry about it. Is there anything I can do to help?”

“Just take care of yourself and your mother. My captain has instructed us to leave a guard until we have a better handle on things. I’ll be here for the next hour or so, then Deputy Crocker will take over until morning.”

“Thank you.” The relief Shaye felt knowing that the police would maintain a presence at the hospital was bittersweet. If Corrine had been anyone else, it would have been unlikely that they’d receive this kind of security detail, but the heir to Archer Manufacturing and daughter of a state senator tended to get things outside the norm. Even without asking.

As Sergeant Boyd left the room, Shaye rose from the chair and went to stand next to the bed. Corrine’s face was drained of color, and the blood and bruises stood out like neon against her pale skin. Shaye reached up and gently brushed Corrine’s bangs back from her forehead. The lump was pronounced and already dark purple. Shaye said a quick prayer that Dr. Stabler was right with his diagnosis. That knot looked bad. At minimum, her mother was going to have a killer headache when she woke up.

Corrine stirred and her eyes popped open. She glanced wildly around before her gaze locked on Shaye and the panic subsided. “Shaye. Thank God! For a moment, I wasn’t sure where I was.” Corrine lifted one hand, then groaned and let it drop back onto the bed.

“Try not to move,” Shaye said. “Your ribs are messed up, so any movement is going to hurt.” Shaye pressed the button to call the nurse. “Can you tell me what happened?”

“I think so. A policeman asked me earlier, but some of it was fuzzy.”

“That’s because you have a concussion. Do you remember more now?

“I went to a site call, but when I got there, it was all wrong. The apartment was empty. They were all empty. Then I saw the door open for an apartment at the end of the hall across from the stairwell, and I knew someone was there.”

Corrine’s eyes widened and she gripped Shaye’s hand. “I pulled out my Mace and ran for the stairs. I thought I’d beaten him, but he fooled me. He wasn’t in the apartment with the open door. He was in the one next to the stairs. He pushed me down the stairs. I hit my head and my vision blurred. Then he was standing over me. I believe he kicked me. I think that’s when everything went black.”

Corrine squeezed Shaye’s fingers tighter and tighter as she talked, and Shaye felt her anger build that someone had put her mother through this. “Can you describe him?”

“No.” Corrine’s face contorted in frustration. “Damn it. He was too blurry. Tall, stocky, and a hoodie, but everything was blurry and gray.”

“Please don’t let it stress you. It will only make your head hurt more. The police are investigating. They’ll get him.”

A nurse walked into the room and Shaye moved back from the bed so she could check Corrine’s vitals. “Things look good considering, Ms. Archer,” the nurse said. “Does your head hurt? Your ribs?”

“Honestly,” Corrine said, “I’m not sure there’s a place on me that doesn’t hurt. I’m too old to go falling down stairs.”

The nurse smiled. “You’re still young and vibrant. Trust me, none of us were made to tumble around the way you did. Dr. Stabler gave me instructions for a painkiller when you awakened.” She pulled a bottle out of her pocket, gave Corrine a white pill, and poured her a glass of water. “This should make you feel better and help you sleep.”

Corrine swallowed the pill and closed her eyes. The nurse turned to Shaye. “She’ll go to sleep quickly. If she awakens again, let me know.”

Shaye nodded and moved closer to the bed after the nurse left. Corrine opened her eyes. “I’m tired, but I’m afraid to sleep. Every time I open my eyes, I’m afraid I’ll see him standing over me again.”

“Don’t worry. I’m going to be sitting right here, and Sergeant Boyd is right outside your door. No one is going to stand over you here except me and medical personnel.”

Corrine forced a smile, her swollen lips making it look more like a grimace. “Have I told you what a great daughter you are?”

“Maybe a time or two.” Shaye leaned over and kissed Corrine on her forehead. “Get some rest. I’ll be right here.”

Corrine shifted a little and closed her eyes. In no time at all, her breathing was rhythmic. Shaye stood there watching her sleep and mulling over everything Corrine and Sergeant Boyd had told her. Something was nagging at her, but she couldn’t put her finger on what. The phone call to Corrine’s office, the empty building, the painters…the purse!

That was it.

She hurried over to the table against the wall, opened Corrine’s purse, and dumped the contents on the table. Wallet, phone, lip balm, keys…where was it? She flipped the purse back over and peered inside, opening the side pocket. And that’s where she found it. Not an eyeglass cleaning cloth like Sergeant Boyd thought, because Corrine didn’t wear glasses.

It was a decorator’s swatch.

Shaye’s hand closed around the cloth, making a fist. It wasn’t Corrine’s job that had put her at risk. It was Shaye’s. Her disguise hadn’t fooled the stalker, and he was letting her know that not only did he know who she was, he knew how to get to her.

Fear, rage, and guilt coursed through her. When she’d taken this case, she’d never imagined that it might put those close to her at risk, not even as she’d started to understand more about the stalker’s fixation. How had he figured it out? Had he followed Shaye to her apartment? Since she’d first met with Emma, Shaye had been extra careful when driving, more observant about the cars surrounding her.

She shook her head. The only way he could have followed her home is if he’d made himself invisible. Which meant he’d discovered her identity some other way. How much more did he know?

And how was she supposed to explain to her mother that all of this was her fault?