It was nearly eight o’clock. She was simultaneously sweaty, grubby, hungry, and tired, but she had work to do if she was going to comply with Bryce’s orders to move ahead with the demolition of the casino, pending approval of the demo permit. She grabbed her laptop and began firing off messages: to the fire marshal, the demolition, hauling, and recycling companies, and Frank Norris, the production company’s accountant back in L.A., to get authorization for the added expenditures. Fifteen minutes later her cell phone rang. She grabbed it, hoping Eb was calling to tell her that Allie had arrived home safely. But when she glanced at the caller ID she was disappointed to see that it was only Frank Norris. “Hi, Frank,” she began. “Hey, Greer. I got your e-mail, and forwarded it up the line, but we’ve hit a snag.” “Oh?” She sat up straight on the bed. “Twenty-five thousand to blow up a building? That’s nuts.” “I know, Frank. But Bryce is insistent that it has to be the real, authentic big bang.”
