One of Us Is Next(75)
I raise my eyebrows. “Can you?”
Maeve makes a dismissive psssh sound. “Challenge accepted.”
She opens the cover and presses the power button. “If your mom is running an old version of Windows there are some login workarounds—although, before I try that, what year was Kiersten born?” I tell her, and she murmurs, “Kiersten plus birth year equals…okay, no. What about Katie?” We repeat the process, and Maeve’s brow furrows. “Wow, I get six more tries before the system locks me out. That’s way too many. Kelsey is the year after Katie?”
“Yeah, but—” I pause when she grins widely, turning the screen to face me as it powers up to an old picture of a family hiking trip. “You’re kidding me. That actually worked?”
“Parents are the single worst threat to any type of cyber security,” Maeve says calmly, flipping the screen back toward her. “Okay, let’s search all documents for Brandon Weber.” She types, then leans back in her chair, squinting. “Nothing. Maybe just Weber.” She presses a few more keys, then grimaces. “Ugh, that’s a lot. We’re cursed with common last names tonight. Emails, phone directories, a bunch of other stuff…” She keeps scrolling and muttering to herself while I load our empty dishes into the dishwasher and top off the glasses of Sprite we’ve been drinking. Then I sip mine while she works.
“I think I’ve figured out your mom’s naming system,” Maeve says after a few minutes. “Cases are all tagged a certain way. So if I put those keywords in and cross-search with Weber…that’s a much smaller universe of files. And this was three years ago, you said?”
“Yeah. When my mom first started at Jenson and Howard.”
Her fingers fly across the keyboard, and she cracks a small smile. “Okay, we’re down to two documents. Let me try opening one.” She double clicks and nods, as though she just got exactly the result she was expecting. “Password protected, but—”
Fritz suddenly sits bolt upright, barking madly, and takes off running for the front door. Maeve and I both freeze except for our eyes, which snap toward one another in mirrored panic. The only time Fritz ever moves like that is when a car pulls into our driveway. “I thought you said your parents weren’t coming home till later,” Maeve hisses. She starts shutting down the computer as I scramble to my feet and follow Fritz. He’s still going berserk, and I hold his collar as I open the door and peer outside. The headlights shining into my eyes are a lot smaller than I expected.
“Hang on,” I call to Maeve from the doorway. Fritz keeps barking, his tail thumping against my leg. “Don’t put the computer away. It’s Kiersten.”
Maeve pauses. “Would she be okay with what we’re doing?”
“Oh hell no. But I can distract her for a few minutes. Email yourself the files, okay? Come out to the driveway when you’re done.”
I open the door just enough to push through without letting Fritz out, and jog down the front steps. My movement triggers our garage floodlight as Kiersten’s headlights flicker off. Her car door opens, and she steps onto the driveway. “Hey!” she calls, waving both hands in greeting. “I was nearby for a work thing so I just wanted to—”
Before she has a chance to finish, I’m hugging her so hard that I almost knock her over. “It’s so good to see you!” I yell, lifting her as far off the ground as I can manage.
“Um, okay. Wow.” Kiersten pats my back gingerly. “Good to see you too.” I lower her onto the driveway without releasing her, and her pats get a little harder. “You can let go now,” she says. Her voice is muffled in my shirt. I keep clinging, and she practically punches me between the shoulder blades. “Seriously. Thank you for the enthusiastic welcome, though.”
“Thank you,” I say, hugging her tighter. “For gracing us with your presence.”
“For what? What do—” Kiersten stiffens and pulls back, craning her neck so she can get a good look at my face. “Knox, are you drunk?” She sniffs me noisily, then uses three fingers to pull down the skin beneath my left eye. “Or high? Are you on something right now?”
What the hell is keeping Maeve? “I’m fine,” I say, disentangling myself hastily. “I’m just happy to see you because I wanted…” I pause for a few beats, searching my brain for something that will hold Kiersten’s interest enough to make her forget we’re still standing in the driveway. She narrows her eyes and taps a foot, waiting.
I swallow a sigh and say, “Relationship advice.”
Kiersten’s entire face lights up as she claps her hands together. “Finally.”
Maeve comes out the front door then, her laptop bag slung over one shoulder. Kiersten’s eyes pop, and she turns to me with a hopeful expression. “Not that relationship,” I mutter as Maeve waves. “Still friends.”
“Too bad,” Kiersten sighs, and holds out her arms for a hug from Maeve. As Maeve strides past me to greet her, she whispers, “Got them.” Whatever she found better be good, because I’m about to give up at least an hour of my life for it.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
Phoebe
Thursday, March 26
When I get home my mother is out, at another Golden Rings wedding planner get-together. She’s left a note for me on the kitchen island: Emma’s still not feeling well. Owen has eaten & there are leftovers in the fridge. Can you make sure he does his homework?