Page 11 of Crude Heir

A message pops up on my phone. I glance over to see it’s Nicole’s reply.I made it in without a problem.Thank you.Have a great night!

I turn back to figure out what I’m seeing. She seems to be scrutinizing every entry of the two-hundred-thirty-seven thousand dollars charged. Then she picks up a pen and makes a note outside of my line of sight. Oblivious, she clicks the mouse, moving to the next invoice.

Annoyed, I watch the pen, topped with some sort of a shark, move across the paper time after time. I have no idea what she’s been writing or why and I have no way of finding out. Or do I?

I set the screen to record and wait until the next time she takes a note. Once she’s done with her process, I review the recording. I can’t see what she’s writing, but I follow her line of sight then use the ten-second rewind option. With that, I’m able to confirm she’s copying company names, billing codes, and totals.

While I solved one part of the puzzle, I don’t know why she’s doing it. The only thing the invoices have in common is that they’re all high-dollar amounts. Some are paid; some are not. They’re from all different companies; some are even from out of state.

The hell with it. I toss open the pizza box and settle in, ready to go through every byte of digital life she keeps on her hard drive and favorites. A quick look at the properties shows she has less than a thousand folders.

She can’t be as squeaky clean as she appears. It just isn’t possible. I go folder to folder, scrutinizing everything she’s ever seen or done, determined to figure out what makes Nicole Fuentes tick.

Chapter 5

Nicole

Leaning into the office chair I got at the secondhand store, I stretch my arms above my head then lean forward to work my back. I need to undo some of the knots I’ve created while hunched over my makeshift desk for so long.

I’ve been going through invoices for hours, scrutinizing every line item, from the moment I got access. Sadly, all I’ve got to show for it is a cramp in my neck and a growing sense of frustration.

Some of these larger costs, for pipe, casing, and delivery, are a ridiculous amount. I’ve checked them against costs from previous years, but from what I’ve found, they’re not out of the ordinary. I don’t see how it’s cheaper to have all this material come in from another state. The mileage itself is astonishing, let alone wait time for unloading.

Then there’s the personnel salaries, which are staggering on their own. With a lot of them, living expenses are thrown in to boot. I can’t imagine making that kind of money and not having to pay for an apartment, or for their meals. Then again, they’re out in the middle of nowhere, risking their lives every minute they’re on site.

What’s worse is that even after all that work, they’ve had to shut in some wells. That’s got to be heartbreaking, after such a huge investment in time and money.

Numbers and details are blurring together after staring at the screen for so long. I rub my tired eyes, stifling a yawn, hopingto eke out another couple of hours. My stomach rumbles and I reach for the bag of chips sitting next to my ancient laptop. It’s empty. I blow out a breath and check the time on the corner of the task bar. That sandwich and chips I had was six hours ago.

Leaning forward, I adjust in my chair. I’m not going to get food. If I have a full stomach, I’ll likely end up wanting to go to bed. Instead, I click the mouse, getting back to reviewing the seemingly endless stream of invoices. I jot down the vendor name and cost according to what’s on the header of the next invoice.

These guys have made some questionable choices on some coding, and the admin hasn’t corrected them. The frustrating part is that the breakdown contains code numbers from the old list and the new list, with a consolidated structure. It was bound to happen since the company pulled people from all over the country to get South Texas staffed and running.

If the engineers have approved the expenses, maybe I’m way off base. Either way, I’m no closer to discovering any significant information. It’s like searching for a needle in a haystack, except this haystack is an endless stream of codes and costs.

Another yawn creeps up on me. Why did I stay up so late last night? I shake my head, glancing at the icon for the reading app on my laptop. Story of my life. I got caught up in a new romance novel I picked up and lost track of time. If I’d known I’d have the opportunity to pull an all-nighter doing research, I wouldn’t have even started reading.

I scoff. Of course I would have started; I wouldn’t have missed out on a new release from my favorite romance author.As it is, it took me two nights to devour the novel. Now I have over a month to wait for the next one.

The only personal life I enjoy is through the characters in those novels. Otherwise, I’d be all alone. My mind wanders back to the story where the powerful hero rescued his lover, breaking her out of the miserable situation in which she was caught. I give a deep sigh. Dreams, at least they can come true in books.

My lids are heavy, and it feels so comfortable every time I close my eyes. A cat nap is sounding better and better. Enough to let me clear my head so I can think straight and keep going instead of feeling like I’m stumbling around in the dark.

With a determined exhale, I reach for my phone. Holding it with both hands, I navigate to the timer function and scroll through to stop at ten minutes. An insidious thought creeps in, reminding me I’ve been going since five o’clock this morning.

The fifteen-minute mark is just a few ticks down. I eye the distance with longing. What difference would five minutes make? No. I shake my head, reiterating my decision. Ten minutes. That’s all I’ll allow myself.

I press the start button, watching the digital countdown begin. What if I give in and take a longer nap, or worse, I turn off the alarm. I set the phone down on the desk, so I’m forced to get up.

Pushing back my chair, I get up, stretch, and walk toward the bed as the seconds tick away. Ten minutes will go by like the blink of the eye. I chew on my bottom lip. I won’t have a second chance at alone time like this to do research.

The sensation of blood rushing down my legs reminds me how long I’ve been sitting without a break. It’s enough to stop me in my tracks.I turn, stepping back to where I set down my phone, leaning over to fumble with the keypad. When the screen opens, the timer taunts me every time the number changes.

Shoving aside the sliver of guilt, I give myself the extra five minutes I desperately need. The numbers reset as I adjust the timer to the fifteen-minute mark, not a second more, then press the start button again.

I set the phone beside the keyboard then pivot, facing the bed. It looks so inviting, but I’m not going to get under the covers. I can’t. I’d risk staying there longer than I should, or God forbid, falling asleep for the night. I can’t do that. I can’t miss out on this opportunity.

Decision made, I step toward the foot of the bed. Climbing on, I stretch out my arms to crawl forward, then lower myself onto the bedspread. The nice, comfortable bedspread.

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