Chapter Ten #2
Lincoln turned back toward Zoe’s office. “What we came to do.”
“Right. I’ll take her office.” She headed down the hall.
“Wait.”
Olivia turned back.
Lincoln handed her a pair of blue nitrile gloves. “Try to leave things where you find them.”
Olivia glanced around. Other than the award on the floor, the hallway showed no sign of their altercation.
Lincoln walked into Zoe’s studio while Olivia tugged on the gloves.
She picked up the award from the hallway and returned it to Zoe’s desk, giving its surface a wipe with the hem of her jacket.
Then she started searching. She couldn’t tell if the desk’s contents had been rifled through because Zoe was no tidier with her professional space than she was with her personal one.
Files, books, and sticky notes littered the blotter.
One drawer hung open. Zoe used a laptop computer and took it home with her each night, so there was no desktop to hack into.
Had the intruder taken anything? Or had he just arrived when they’d interrupted him?
Olivia worked her way through Zoe’s desk drawers.
She moved a tangle of charging cords and a box of pens to reveal an envelope of receipts labeled Expenses.
She thumbed through them. None were recent.
She tucked the envelope back into place and turned to the files and notes strewn across the desk’s surface.
In the pencil drawer she rummaged through an assortment of highlighters, index cards, pens, and binder clips to a small notepad.
The top sheet was blank. Olivia thumbed through the rest of the pages.
In the center, she found a list of seemingly random words, numbers, and symbols.
Passwords? She took a photo of the page with her phone and moved on to the next drawer.
Her gaze fell on a file labeled Jennifer Hamilton.
Opening the file, she found handwritten notes and computer printouts of articles.
She pulled out her phone and photographed each page.
Then she closed the file. The rest of the materials and notes related to her own case.
She took a quick look through them but found nothing new.
She checked the trash can under the desk but saw only dirty napkins, empty sugar packets, and used wooden coffee stirrers.
Something red caught her attention. She spotted a red rectangle the size of a quarter under the desk.
She picked it up. A flash drive. Had the intruder dropped it when they interrupted him?
Or did Zoe knock it off her chaotic desk or toss it toward the trash can and miss? Olivia slipped it into her pocket.
A final scan of the desk yielded nothing else. There were no personal effects. Not a single framed photo. Zoe spent most of her time in this space, and yet it reflected nothing about her. But was the absence of personality a clue?
Lincoln appeared in the doorway. “Find anything?”
“Maybe some passwords. I took a picture.” She lifted her phone.
“I also took pictures of her notes on one of the cases she was researching for her podcast, the death of Jennifer Hamilton. And I found this.” She held up the flash drive.
“Just this.” She shoved it back into her pocket. “Other than those two things, no. You?”
“Not really. Her studio is small and contains mostly recording equipment. Where does she edit her podcast?”
“Zoe and Wendy use laptops for everything. I’m meeting with Wendy in the morning. I’ll double-check.” She gestured around her. “Notice anything weird about this office?”
Lincoln’s gaze swept the space, corner to corner, missing nothing. “It’s impersonal. How long has she been renting this place?”
“Four years?” Olivia guessed.
“You’d think she’d have a funny mug or a wedding photo.”
“Maybe she wants to keep the space professional. She does interview people here.”
Lincoln raised his brows. “Does she clean up first?”
Olivia shook her head. “She’s always been messy. I don’t know how she stands it.”
“You and Zoe are polar opposites in that regard.” Lincoln gestured to the office next door. “Let’s check Wendy’s office.”
Olivia followed him with a vague sense of discomfort.
Wendy’s office was stark. One cheap plastic chair faced a desk.
A printer and copy machine occupied a stand in the corner.
A box of computer paper sat on the floor next to it.
She approached Wendy’s desk with her hands in her pockets. “It feels wrong to be in here.”
“Why?” In Wendy’s chair, Lincoln paused in searching the drawers.
“Zoe is my friend. I know she’ll understand my intrusion. She’ll know I’m doing this because I care about her and am worried. But I don’t know Wendy.”
“Zoe owns the business and pays the rent, right?”
“Yes.” But discomfort still gathered in Olivia’s gut.
“How long has she worked for Zoe?”
“Not long. Maybe a few months.”
Lincoln opened another drawer. “All the more reason to search her office.”
“Wendy didn’t attack me—or us.”
“Which doesn’t mean she isn’t involved. Criminals can be hired. Or there could be more than one moving part to this situation,” Lincoln said. He opened and closed more drawers. “Blah. There’s barely anything here.”
“She probably keeps everything important on her computer.”
Lincoln paused and shot her a thoughtful look. “Do they back up the business files to a business cloud account?”
“I don’t know. That’s another question for Wendy.”
Lincoln stood. “I guess that’s it then.”
They left the studio through the back door. It locked automatically behind them. Then they went back to her house. Olivia poured them each a small glass of red wine while Lincoln inserted the flash drive into the USB port of his laptop.
He sighed. “The files are password protected. Digital hacking isn’t my best skill set.”
“Same. I can break into my parents’ computer when they accidentally change the passwords and lock themselves out, but that’s the extent of my hacking experience.”
“Lance’s mom can have a crack at it when she traces the number that texted Zoe.”
“I have no other options, so thank you.”
“What’s your plan for tomorrow?” he asked.
“Speak with Wendy. Talk to Dylan. Research Zoe’s past.”
Who was the man trying to find Zoe? And why?