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“That’s right. Bella.”
“I saw her hugging you after the Christmas pageant. I was heading over to say hi, hoping maybe you’d introduce us to your family, but you’d already left.”
He’d seen Kacey and bolted before things got awkward.
The kids weren’t in the same class, just the same grade. And he and Kacey hadn’t communicated via text or email almost every day back then. He hadn’t been aware of her plans, or even known she’d be in town unless she happened to show up at the Lemonade Stand when he was there.
Well...he’d always known about Fridays, of course, because of her class. And because, for a long time, that was when they’d meet to talk about her struggles living a cleaner lifestyle in LA. After her class. In the small private office he still kept in the rear of the computer repair shop that was on the street backing up to the Lemonade Stand. The whole block had shops with secure entrances to and from the Stand.
And was owned by the Stand’s benefactor, Brett Ackerman. All proceeds from the shops open to the public helped to support the women’s shelter. Mike had spent a lot more time there when they’d first been setting up the computer repair shop than he did now.
“Here you go,” Lacey said. “Have at it.”
He glanced at the screen. Emails were still coming in. “You want to take a look and move anything you’d rather I don’t see?”
She shook her head. “I want to know who’s using our email account. Look at anything you need to...”
He was an IT investigator. He knew the kinds of things that could be found. Not that he expected Lacey—or Jem—to have anything illegal on their machines. But...private...was conceivable.
“What about confidential work files?”
She shook her head. “Not on that machine. I log in to my work computer—”
“Which answers my next question. The two computers are connected sometimes?”
“Yes.” She was frowning.
“And do you ever email Kacey with your private account from work?”
“I don’t remember specifically doing so, but I’m sure I have. I’ve never made it a point not to.”
“Can you hide files and do whatever is necessary so I can get a look at that machine tomorrow?”
“You do investigations for the local police, don’t you?”
“I have. On occasion. They have their own IT investigators.”
“If you have clearance with them, you’ve got clearance with us. It’s a city-wide thing.”
He’d known he had clearance, just not that she wouldn’t have to go through extra red tape.
He was already sitting in her desk chair, clicking through screens.
“You’re doing that so qu
ickly, how can you even know what’s there?”
“I’m searching for something very specific. I know where it will be...” He looked at back-door computer information all day, every day. “It’s like any foreign language.” He often told ladies at the Lemonade Stand the same thing. “Once you learn it, you don’t have to think about it. You just recognize it.”
Not that he taught computer forensics to the residents at the Stand. With them it was more basic programming for career training...
He took a couple of screen shots, emailed them to himself and then stood up. “I’m done here,” he said, as eager to be gone as he’d been to visit.
This urge he’d had to get to know Lacey a little better—more of a curiosity, really—because she and Kacey were so tightly intertwined, wasn’t good.
And he most certainly didn’t need to see where Kacey stayed when she was in town any more than he’d ever have cause to see her place in Beverly Hills.
“You want a cup of coffee?” Lacey asked. “Or a beer? Jem’ll be out in a couple of minutes and I know he’d share a beer with you. I can’t stand the stuff, so he’s always looking for an excuse to have one with someone.”
