Chapter Twenty-Two
In the back seat of the taxi, I examined the USB stick I’d found in one hand and held my mobile phone to my ear with the other. This was my third attempt at calling Patrick. Why wasn’t he answering? My stomach tensed, and I tried to tell myself not to fret. But I worried anyway. The driver slammed on the brakes at a red light, and I palmed the seat in front of me.
My phone vibrated, and I swiped to answer. “Hello.”
“June, how are you? Are you at my place yet?”
“I’m on my way now.”
“Great. I’m finishing up here.”
“Was work busy?” I asked.
“I wrote reports for most of the day.”
If he had been at a desk, why hadn’t he answered my calls? “Oh, really? Because I tried calling you a few of times, but they went to voicemail.”
I heard myself speaking and didn’t like how mistrusting and skeptical I sounded, even to my own ears.
“Sorry about that. Is everything all right?”
“Yeah. I just wanted to fill you in on what happened in the lab today. But I can tell you about it tonight.” The taxi turned down his road. “I’m almost at your place.”
“You have my house key, right?”
“I do.”
“I won’t be too much longer, babe.”
“Can’t wait to see you.”
“Me too.”
I hung up, and in a short while, the cab pulled into Patrick’s driveway. I plucked bills from my wallet and paid the driver. Inside the house, I dropped my bags at the door, flipped on the lights, and proceeded into the kitchen. I opened cupboards and came upon a package of pasta and a jar of sauce. In the fridge, I found ingredients to make prima vera.
I washed veggies in the sink and looked out the window at the expansive yard. The setting sun approached the barn and forest tree line. Rays reached like outstretched arms in a bright finale. I watched in awe. But then I noticed shadows forming. Soon, the darkness would offer easy refuge to anyone out there who sought it.
I yanked on a cord and shut the slatted blind.
The days were getting shorter, grayer, and gloomier. Patrick’s farm home, while warm and comfy, felt barren without him. I couldn’t describe my current mood, except that my emotions fluctuated between being scared, uncertain, and paranoid.
I chopped the peppers, zucchini, and an onion. The bulb’s fumes burned my eyes, and I retreated from the invisible vapors. I wiped tears with a tissue, retrieved my bag from the front hallway, and carried it up to the bedroom.
I placed my clothes in a drawer Patrick had emptied for me, and I hung a blouse and a pair of pants in the closet. My phone beeped with a text.
—On my way.—
I breathed easier, knowing he’d be here soon.
On the floor, my purse gaped open, and I reached for the flash drive. I sat on the bed and turned it over in my hand. What could be on it? Documents? Photos? Porno videos? I tried to figure out what I should do with it. Even though I was curious as to why this USB resided on a ceiling tile; I should have left it where I found it. I’d put it back into the basement and perhaps mention it to the landlord. But then I noticed Patrick’s laptop on the side table.
No.
The content of the drive wasn’t any of my business. I turned and headed downstairs to the kitchen. Hopefully Patrick had a hankering for Italian.
I continued preparing food. There was a large pot in the cupboard under the sink, and seasonings in a drawer. I moved the spice bottles until I found the oregano. And then I noticed an empty pill vial—narcotic pain medication prescribed for Patrick. The floor creaked beside me, and I dropped the bottle and slammed the drawer.
“Oh, hi,” I said to Patrick as my heart pitter-pattered.
From behind, he slipped his arms around my waist. “What’s cooking?”
“Pasta, veggies, and sauce, is that okay?”
“More than okay,” he said and kissed my cheek. He backed away and poured himself a glass of milk. “So how did your place look? No signs of unlawful entry?”
“Everything appeared secure. Is that how you say it?”
Patrick chuckled. “Yes, it is. Are there any results from the case yet? I didn’t check in.”
I stopped stirring the sauce. “I called to update you.”
“What’s the update?” he said.
Was he intentionally avoiding accounting for my missed calls? I couldn’t let this go.
Boiling water overflowed and sizzled on the stove.
Patrick jogged over, slid the pot off the element, and turned the knob.
I grabbed a tea towel, wiped up the excess water, and wrung the cloth over the sink.
“I appreciate you making dinner.”
“And for making a mess?”
“There’s no mess.” Patrick slid his arms around me again. “I’m sorry I didn’t return your call. What did you want to tell me?”
“I wanted to give you an update.”
“Has the case finished sequencing?”
“Not yet. There was a computer glitch, but the repeat run should be ready first thing in the morning.” I grabbed Patrick’s hand. “Come,” I said and pulled him behind me. “I want to show you something in the bedroom.”
“Lead the way, darlin’.”
I laughed as we headed up the stairs. I sat on the bed, took the flash drive from my purse, and held it up.
“I thought you were going to show me something else, but I’ll play. It looks like a USB stick.”
I nodded and waited for him to ask more questions.
“What’s on it?” he said.
“I don’t know. It’s not mine.”
“Whose is it?”
I shrugged. “I have no idea.”
He scratched his nose and smirked. “Where did you get it?”
“I found it at my place,” I said. “Downstairs.”
“In the basement?”
“Yes. Above a ceiling tile. At a crossbeam.”
Patrick walked around his bed to get his laptop. “Let’s have a look,” he said and booted up his computer.
I handed him the drive. “You think we should?”
“Who will know if we do or don’t?” he said and inserted the stick.
And just like that, he solved my moral dilemma of whether I should look to see what was on the drive. I leaned closer when he clicked open a file.
A list of names appeared, each with accompanying twelve-digit numbers.
“What do you think that is?” I asked.
“I don’t know. My guess would be this is a business listing of some sort. Clients, maybe with invoice numbers. Or maybe passwords.”
“How many are there?”
He scrolled down, page after page. “A hundred, maybe two,” he said. “I can’t find a business name, address, or logo anywhere.” He scrolled to the end of the list. “That’s all we got. A list of names and numbers.” He removed the drive and handed it to me.
“Thanks,” I said in an underwhelmed voice.
“Not what you were expecting to find?”
“I didn’t know what to expect. At least it didn’t contain any sleazy videos.”
“Well, that could easily be added. We’ll just pop that back into the computer port and hit record.” He swooped in and kissed my lips and neck. “But to do that, these clothes have to go.”
I giggled as he pulled my top over my head.