Page 72 of Crude Heir

Ezequiel, his arm draped casually over the steering wheel, addresses the guard with impatience. “She doesn’t need ID. They’re Addler’s guests, just write down their fucking names.”

The guard’s posture stiffens visibly at Ezequiel’s tone, but he complies, scribbling something on his clipboard before stepping back to let us pass.

We continue down the caliche road, driving past the office building, a double-wide trailer that serves as a standard field office. There are several people in the parking lot, their attention momentarily drawn to our vehicle. They seem to be gathering for a meeting, likely unaware of the storm brewing behind the scenes.

As we reach the warehouse, which is more a sprawling staging area, I scan the surroundings. A quick sweep of the area reveals no sign of the pipe we’re looking for.

“Bill was right,” Ezequiel mutters. He shifts the SUV into park and pulls his cell. He punches a number and connects the call through the speakers.

“Donohue,” Sage’s voice resonates with authority.

“Can you talk?” Ezequiel inquires.

“Yes, I’m on the road though,” she replies.

“You’re not there yet?” There’s no missing the annoyance in his tone.

“Almost,” she says, exasperated.

“Well punch it, baby. You don’t got that kind of time today,” he reminds her.

Her exhale blows out the speakers. “Areyouat the office?”

“We’re already at the warehouse,” Ezequiel confirms. “There’s no fuckin’ pipe here.”

“No surprise there,” she mutters. “Hang on, turning onto that road and…just need another minute or two.”

My cell phone rings again. I automatically move my thumb to decline the call when I see Addler’s name at the top.

“Hey, Keith Kelly is flying in,” he says without preamble.

“What?” I bark out, incredulous. That must be what my mother was calling about. Ezequiel turns to look at me. “Keith Kelly’s heading in,” I say, filling them in. Nicole gasps. What could he be up to? Did he want to come see what we found? Is he coming to join Simon?

“I told them they can land at the ranch instead of going to the airport in town.” Addler’s voice cuts through the tension. “We’re going to postpone the morning meeting. Elena’s on the phone getting everyone rerouted to the community center for that lunch meeting that was originally for the vendors.”

“More food?” Elena’s voice filters into the call, seeking confirmation.

“Yes, double whatever we ordered,” he instructs during the sidebar. “Guys, head to the house. They should land by the time you arrive.”

“On it,” Ezequiel acknowledges as he puts the SUV in gear.

“What happened?” Sage’s voice, laced with cautious curiosity, comes through the speakers again.

“Change in plans, baby. We’re heading to Addler’s. Keith Kelly’s coming down,” Ezequiel explains.

“Oh.” Her comment is filled with apprehension. Likely her mind’s racing, same as ours.

“Yeah, I got a feeling shit’s about to go down,” Ezequiel adds, echoing the sense of foreboding surrounding us.

“I’m almost there, but even from here I can see there’s no pipe on-site.” It’s the confirmation of our suspicions, finally giving us the insight that might help Nicole and Elena in the right direction.

“Shit. Okay, head back to the guard shack.”

Nicole leans forward from the back seat, her voice tinged with a mix of disbelief and realization. “That accounts for more than three million dollars all on its own.”

The weight of her words hangs in the air. Three million dollars—a staggering sum, now just a gaping hole in the company’s assets.

The atmosphere in the SUV is charged with a sense of urgency. My mind races through one possibility then another. Is this Sunny person the one responsible for the embezzlement? And more importantly, where has it all gone?

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