Malevolent by Jana DeLeon Page B

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