I chose to ignore Duvall’s warning for now and visit Shanae’s neighbor. Before going, I called Hirschbeck again and left another message. Maybe it wasn’t fair to push so hard after the death of one of the company’s own, but my first concern had to be Brad Higgins.
I drove to Hillcrest Heights where Shanae and Tina had lived. The neighborhood of small brick ranchers, paired by common walls, was off Fairlawn Street, not far from Branch Avenue and Iverson Mall—the kind of mall where you wouldn’t find a Lord & Taylor or Nordstrom. A small lawn of half-dead grass and a stump fronted their house. I pictured tiny Shanae firing up a chainsaw and felling the lone tree. So much for those damned leaves.
I went to the house next door to Shanae’s, a clone except that its owner had cared for it. Yello
