“Where are your parents?” she asked.

“Never knew my pops. My mom got killed last year by her ex-boyfriend. Said he was gonna get her for breaking it off with him, and he did. The coward did that shit while I was in school, wasting my time in history class when I could have protected her.”

Shaye’s heart ached for this boy. She knew better than anyone what it felt like to be physically beaten down, to be afraid of everyone you came in contact with. But she’d had Corrine. This boy had been dealt the horrible blow of his mother’s murder, then an abusive foster father. She wanted to do something to help him, but she knew he wouldn’t allow it. Couldn’t, because he couldn’t afford to trust her, either.

She pulled out her wallet and emptied it of the eighty dollars in cash inside. She handed it to Hustle. “Take this. Get something decent to eat.”

He looked at the money and frowned. “Why you giving me money?”

“Because when I was fifteen I had no one, but a social worker took me in, gave me everything I needed to get healthy and get an education. She even adopted me. I was lucky. And I’d like to call her to help you, but I know you won’t accept it. So the least I can offer you is money for food.”

“You was on the street?”

She nodded.

He studied her for a couple seconds more, then took the cash and stuffed it in his pocket. She pulled out a business card and handed it to him. “This is my cell number. If you change your mind, call me. Anytime.”

He took at the card and nodded. “Thanks,” he said, then dropped the skateboard and took off.

Shaye stood there until he disappeared around the end of the dock, wishing she could have done more and praying that one day he would be ready for help. Finally, she turned around and headed back to her car. Hustle had given her something to think about.

It was high time to dig into David Grange’s past.

###

Emma pulled her makeup bag out of her suitcase and placed it on the vanity. It had taken her an hour to get to the new hotel. It was only five miles away from the first hotel, but she’d driven up the highway and around every borough of the French Quarter making sure she wasn’t being followed. When she was finally convinced no one had tailed her, she’d pulled into the parking garage and registered for a single night. If she didn’t feel okay tomorrow morning, she’d find another place. Maybe it was crazy, but Emma didn’t care. She was done ignoring that nagging feeling that something wasn’t right. She hadn’t felt safe at the other hotel, and she’d had good reason not to. New Orleans had plenty of hotels and she was traveling light. If she had to move every day, she’d do it.

But for how long?

The question was one that kept creeping into her thoughts and it never failed to frustrate her, mainly because she didn’t have an answer. How long would it take to identify her stalker, and once he was identified, how long would it take Shaye to convince the police of the danger, and even if they believed her straight off, how long would it take to apprehend him? A day? A week? And even if they apprehended him quickly, could they do more than issue a restraining order?

She flopped back on the bed and blew out a breath. Too many unknowns. Maybe Clara had been right. Maybe she should just leave. Pack a larger bag, get in her car, drive as far as a tank of gas would take her, then fill up and do it again. If Patty could sell the house quickly as she claimed, Emma should have enough money to survive for quite a while without working. Years, if she was careful, but eventually, she’d have to take another job. Would he still be looking for her? Or maybe the key was to take a job with a doctor’s office and not a hospital, or maybe even private care. The demand for in-home care was growing every day. She could effectively fall off the employment grid if she was patient and waited for the right opportunity.

It was all so much to think about. And when she went down that path, the sheer number of things that would have to be done overwhelmed her. She rose from the bed and checked the dead bolt again. The first thing she was going to do was take a long hot shower, with the bathroom door open, the shower curtain cracked so that she had a good view of the door, and her pistol sitting on the toilet. Then she was going to order a hamburger, wine, and cheesecake from room service and do her damnedest to forget how frightened she was.

###

Shaye frowned when she heard the knock on her front door. She glanced at her watch. Eight p.m. Too late for the cable guy, who’d never shown, and too polite for a robber. Since she could count the number of people who knew where she lived on one hand, she bet herself a large pizza that it was Corrine.

She put her laptop on the end table and hopped off the couch. When she pulled open the door, she found herself staring at the smiling and hopeful faces of Corrine and Eleonore. “Double trouble,” she said.

“We come bearing housewarming gifts,” Corrine said and held up two bottles of wine.

Shaye felt herself weaken just a bit. It was her favorite wine from Corrine’s special stock.

“Uh-hmmm.” Eleonore held up a cheesecake.

“You guys don’t fight fair,” Shaye said and waved them inside.

“We’re a parent and a psychiatrist,” Eleonore said. “The fact that you even assume we’d fight fair tells me I have more work to do with you.”

Shaye grinned. “Break open that cheesecake before I grab it from you and kick you out.”

Eleonore put the cheesecake on the counter and opened the empty drawers one at a time.

“I’ve been too busy to unpack,” Shaye said, “or to shop. There’s some plastic utensils on the stove that I had leftover from Chinese food, and some paper plates in the cabinet behind you.”

Corrine sighed and opened one of the bottles of wine. “It hurts my heart to hear you say you’re too busy to shop. You’re a woman, and an Archer. Surely there’s something you need to buy.”

“I just ordered office furniture,” Shaye said as she grabbed a package of plastic cups from the pantry and slid them in front of Corrine. “I might even get a rug. That should make you happy. That’s purely for decoration.”

Corrine gave the plastic cups a look of dismay. “What color is the rug?”

“I don’t know. I haven’t picked it out yet.”

“You’re just trying to mollify me with a theoretical rug.”

“Yes. Is it working?”

Corrine handed Shaye a cup of wine and smiled. “Maybe a little.”

Shaye took a sip of the wine and sighed. “This stuff is wonderful.” She sat the cup down and pulled open the refrigerator. “Eleonore, I have bottled water and Diet Dr. Pepper. What’s your preference?”

Eleonore dumped a huge slice of cheesecake onto a paper plate and slid it over to Corrine. “I’m going to go wild and have the Dr. Pepper.” She cut two more pieces and they all stepped around the counter and back into the living room. Eleonore and Corrine sat on the couch while Shaye perched on the edge of the end table that had never made it back to the corner.

“So,” Eleonore said, “Corrine tells me you already have a client.”

Shaye took a big bite of the heavenly cheesecake and nodded. “A nurse. Really nice woman.”

“Cheating husband, I suppose,” Corrine said and sighed. “You’re probably going to get a lot of that.”

“Not this time. Her husband’s dead.”

“Well, I guess killing him is one way to ensure he doesn’t cheat,” Eleonore joked.

“Actually,” Shaye said, “she did kill him, but not for cheating.”

“Oh!” Corrine sat up straight. “You didn’t tell me it was a murder case.”

“It’s not,” Shaye said. “The guy was abusive and had a record. She had an order of protection, he broke in the house to attack her, and it didn’t work out the way he intended.”

“Good for her,” Corrine said.