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Uneasiness settled into the pit of Marie’s stomach, and she focused on the water trailing down the outside of the uncovered window as rain poured down in droves. Diving into all parts of Erica’s life was necessary, but it was still invading another woman’s privacy.
A boom of thunder collided with the thoughts whirling in her brain, eliciting a small cry from Nora. The electricity flickered again, leaving only the natural light of a sunless day for a handful of seconds before washing them in light once more.
“Crap,” Owen muttered. “I need a password to get to her home screen.”
Marie peered over his shoulder. “Did you notice any planners or journals laying around? Sometimes people write down their passwords. Especially at home. Less chance of people finding them.”
Owen opened the lone drawer in the center of the desk. “Looks like a ton of receipts. She wasn’t much of a bookkeeper.”
Marie expelled a sad chuckle. “She wasn’t much of a housekeeper either, but I think I would have liked her.”
Owen pulled wrinkled slips of paper from the drawer and piled them together after scanning them. “She probably kept these for reimbursement from work or tax purposes. I recognize a lot of these names. Local bars, night clubs, hot spots in some of the rougher areas. I’ll need to pour over them closer, but they’re all time stamped. I might get lucky and pull footage at some of these places.”
Marie turned and studied the rest of the room. If Erica was half as paranoid as her, she wouldn’t have kept a journal of any kind where it could be easily found. She rounded the edge of the bed and glanced at the top of the nightstand. A pile of books and a reading lamp covered the surface, and no drawers offered more storage underneath even though the thick wooden top should have enough room to hold a few items inside. She fisted her hand and knocked on the top…thwack, thwack. The hollow noise competed with the constant drizzle against the converted old house.
Owen swiveled toward her. “What was that?”
Marie screwed her lips to the side and studied the wooden table. “It sounds hollow. The wood’s been painted, and it’s obvious the piece was refurbished. Do you think she could have something inside?”
Owen crouched beside the stand. “Maybe.”
He placed the books and lamp on the bed then ran his hand over the wood and along the sides of the stand. He dipped his hand under the gray-painted furniture, and a grin split his face. He twisted the angle of his arm, the motion shaking the sturdy piece of wood. He slid his arm out from beneath the nightstand and stood with a palm-sized pink journal in his hand. “You’re a genius.”
She lifted her toes and clasped her gloved hands over her mouth, the taste of rubber attacking her lips. She cringed and dropped her hands to her sides. “You might want to see what’s written inside before you say that.”
Owen flipped open the first page. “Interesting.”
“Passwords?”
“Maybe. The first page has a lot of random words and numbers. Some of the letters are jumbled together and don’t spell anything. Looks like it could be passwords for different sites.” Owen flipped through a few pages and whistled low. “She has names and locations in here that could mean anything. I still want to go through the computer, maybe she has more detailed information, but there’s definitely a reason she hid this.”
Marie wrapped her arms around Nora’s back, hating the chill racing down her spine. “Something she found—something that could be in there—got her killed. I wish she would’ve done a better job of staying under the radar.”
Owen raised his brows and lifted the side of his mouth in a sad smile, but kept his gaze locked on the notebook. “I bet she wishes that, too.” He sucked in a breath. “She wrote last week she walked along the river to get a look at Bill’s house, and someone shot an arrow at her. Might explain the divots in the trees we found yesterday. I need to call those stores Tommy mentioned about the feather. I might get lucky and tie the materials to someone.”
“Can you take the evidence with us and go? This place is depressing.” Marie glanced toward the open bedroom door.
“Sure. Let me grab my bag, and I’ll gather what I need. Do you want to shut down the computer?”
Marie nodded, and Owen hurried out the door. Averting her gaze from the decorative pillows scattered across the bed and clothes strewn along the floor, Marie made a beeline for the computer. She sat on the edge of the bed and moved the cursor toward the shutdown button on the corner of the screen.
A pulse of thunder beat through the room. The lone light on the center of the ceiling sputtered then died. A squeak escaped her parted lips.
Calm down. It’s just a storm that knocked out the power.
She rose on shaky legs, and a glare bouncing off the window caught her attention. Slowly making her way through the dim room, she peered out the window and fear lodged in her throat.
A dark-clothed figure moved between the low foliage crowded beside the house next door, the shadow morphing from a creeping blob to a lurking silhouette who stared directly at her.
Owen secured the journal in his duffel bag then the lights cut out. No surprise the way the electricity had flickered with every rumble of thunder. At least he’d found what he needed.
“Marie?” He shouted. “Everything all right?”
Leaving the bag by the door, he turned toward the bedroom. The dark clouds blanketing the morning sky blocked any natural light from flowing into the apartment.
Hurried footsteps barreled toward him. Marie fumbled from the hallway, her ragged breaths loud without the hum of electricity. “I saw something outside. Someone was hiding in the bushes on the side of the house next door. He looked in the window.”
Anxiety ricocheted between his ribs. “Stay here while I check outside. Lock the door behind me.” Grabbing the phone from his pocket, he tossed it her way. “Call 911.”
