Page 7 of Hell Hath No Fury

“You carry those things with you even when you’re off duty?”

“Gotta be prepared.” He tugged them on and started at the bucket, pulling out bottles and cans and peering underneath them. From there, he pulled the blankets from the cots and searched through the dingy sheets and under the wafer-thin mattresses. “No drug paraphernalia.”

“Nell’s always been terrified of needles,” Emma said. “She does pills chased by booze.”

“Sometimes the fear of needles gets overpowered when an addict’s system builds a tolerance. They need a more potent method than pills to get their fix.” His tone wasn’t accusatory.

Other than the few hours she’d spent with Nell in the hospital this summer, Emma hadn’t been around her younger sister enough to make accurate assessments. “I guess I shouldn’t be surprised she was staying here. It’s a better shelter than the homeless camp she was living in. But Eric couldn’t have known. He’d never have permitted it when he has a perfectly good guest room.”

Matthias faced her. “Would he give them carte blanche to party in his house?”

She didn’t have to think long. “No. He’d have dragged them both to rehab.”

“There you go. Here, they had their privacy and the freedom to do whatever they wanted.”

The image of Zeke’s obituary flashed across Emma’s mind. “The freedom to overdose. I wonder… Do you think Zeke…” She struggled to say the word. “Do you think he died here?”

“The obit said he died in the Washington Hospital.”

“They would’ve pronounced him dead there, but…” She gestured at the cots.

Matthias pulled her into his arms. “Don’t think about it. Nell’s still alive. She’s probably safe with Eric.”

Emma backed out of his embrace. “And where the hell ishe?”

“That’s what we have to find out. Where else can we look?”

“I don’t know. He’s not at home. He’s not at his office. He’s not here.”

“What about the guy who wants to buy this place?”

“I can’t imagine Eric or Nell would be with Sonny Jones.”

“If they’ve been in negotiations, Jones might have some idea of where Eric went.”

“It’s Saturday.” Emma drew a breath, thinking. “I have no idea where Sonny lives.”

“We might get lucky and catch him at his office.”

“Maybe. Okay.” Emma shrugged. “Let’s go visit North Star Developing.”

ChapterThree

Matthias followed Emma’s navigational instructions to a business plaza with the unimpressive architecture indicative of the 1970s. Except for its rolling hills, Washington, Pennsylvania, didn’t look much different than Erie—historic buildings adjacent to bland, modern structures.

He pulled into a parking space and searched the ground-level storefronts, but he didn’t see what they were looking for. “Are you sure this is the right place?”

Emma held up her phone. “North Star Developing. Suite 201.”

Matthias cut the ignition, and they climbed out. Inside the building, they took a groaning elevator to the second floor. Sonny Jones’s office was directly to the left. Matthias tried the door. It opened.

A thirty-ish woman in jeans and a T-shirt looked up from her desk. “I’m sorry. The office is closed today.”

“Yet, here you are,” he said lightly. “We’re looking for Sonny Jones.”

“The office. Is. Closed,” the woman repeated more slowly. “He’s not in.”

Emma stepped closer to the desk. “I realize that, but we just arrived from Erie and have business with him.”