“Who handles the account?”
“Nina.”
Again.
I didn’t want to believe it.
Nine years.
Nina knew my children.
She sent flowers when my father died.
She remembered my birthday every year.
I called her.
No answer.
Again.
Voicemail.
A third time.
Phone off.
“Do you know where she lives?” Ruiz asked.
“Yes.”
“Don’t go there.”
I looked at her.
“I wasn’t planning to.”
I was.
She could tell.
“Mr. Donnelly, let us handle it.”
So I stayed.
Barely.
Then the former cook walked through the front door.
His name was Eddie Sloan.
The man who had warned me.
The man who somehow may have told Kyle I was coming.
Ruiz noticed my expression.
“You know him?”
“Yes.”
Eddie stopped when he saw police.
“Frank?”
“Come in.”
He looked nervous.
“What happened?”
“You tell me.”
“What?”
“Kyle knew I was coming today.”
Eddie went pale.
“I didn’t tell him.”
“You were the only person who knew.”
