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step?” Claire asked. “Want me to come out there?”
    “No,” Emerson said quickly, then wondered if Claire had felt it. She liked Claire. She was fun and attractive and smart, and the sex was great, but Emerson preferred her in small doses. After spending more than several hours with her, Emerson always found herself looking frantically around for an escape route. “No, it’s fine. I’m fine. I don’t plan on being here much longer. I need to check in with work, and then I’ll put my nose to the grindstone and figure out what to do here.”
    “All right. As long as you’re sure. I can be there in a flash if you need me. Just say the word.”
    “Promise.”
    They chatted for a few more minutes about mundane things until Emerson could hear somebody else enter Claire’s office and speak in hushed tones. They said their goodbyes so Claire could bustle off to a meeting.
    Sipping her wine and sitting quietly, Emerson sank deeper into the couch, feeling more relaxed than she had in months.
    Her knee took that moment of relaxation to make itself known, sending a shooting pain up through her thigh. She winced and rubbed at it with her fingers.
    “I wish I could quit you,” she said softly to the heels she’d dropped on the floor, then shot them a glare for good measure. She did her best to avoid the prescription pain killers her doctor had given her, but every so often, she caved. This was one such occasion. Too much standing at the wake, then the funeral service, then off to the lawyers, and the damn cobblestones didn’t help. There really was no reason to wear the heels here, and she knew it. With a sigh, she got up, hobbled to the bedroom and her luggage, and took out the pill bottle.
    Knowing the meds would most likely make her tired within the next thirty minutes, Emerson decided she should check in with her office while she was still coherent. She picked up her cell and dialed into her voicemail.
    “ We’re sorry. You have reached a number that has been disconnected or is no longer in service. Please check the number and try again. ” The recorded voice was robotically female.
    “That’s weird.” Emerson tried again and got the same message.
    Shifting her focus, she dialed the main number of McKinney Carr. Maybe her voicemail had gone screwy and Maggie, the receptionist, could connect her manually.
    “ We’re sorry. You have reached a number that has been disconnected or is no longer in service. Please check the number and try again. ”
    “What the hell?”
    She tried again from her mother’s land line, only to get the same results. With her hand resting on the handset, she stood still and tried to think. Work friends weren’t something she had many of, but she suddenly recalled the cryptic message from Brenda a day or two ago. Something about some “funky shit” going down in the office. She returned to the couch and her cell phone, scrolled through her recent calls list, and found Brenda’s number.
    “Emmy? Jesus, I guess you heard, huh?” Brenda’s voice was clipped. No greeting. No small talk. Unusual for her.
    “Heard what?” Emerson asked. “I just tried to call into my voicemail, but I got a recording. Same thing when I tried the main desk. What’s the deal?”
    “You haven’t heard.” Brenda took an audible deep breath and blew it out.
    “I’ve been a little busy burying my mother and all,” Emerson said, snippier than she’d intended.
    “Oh, god. You’re right. I’m so sorry. How could you know when you’ve been dealing with that? Okay. Look. The company? Shut down. Completely.”
    “Shut down? What? What does that mean?” Emerson was confused and didn’t like the agitated churning that began in her stomach.
    “It means the company was shut down . As in closed. Bankrupt. People were sent home in the middle of the day on Friday. Sales reps out in the field were called on their cells and told to stop what they were doing immediately and go home. The T-751 knee