Some of the descriptions of the dangerous secret operations read like something out of a bestselling spy novel. She thought for a split second that maybe she would turn these gripping scenarios into a novel one day, but that made her laugh. She was no writer. If there truly were grammar police she surely would be given a citation or two. Better to just continue to solve mysteries rather than write about it.
Poring over the files, minutes quickly turned into hours. Before she knew it, several had passed and she realized it was time to head home. Even though Maggie was gone, the rest of the girls were getting together for their weekly Thursday night girls-only potluck supper, and it was Emily’s turn to host again.
The theme this week was end-of-summer barbecue. Isabel promised to provide barbecued chicken, enlisting Alex and his superior grilling skills—at least that’s what she had told him to get him to help her. Camille, with her culinary flair, offered to bring scrumptious twice-baked potatoes and a luscious lemon crème cake. Not being known for great cooking, Emily offered to provide a crisp green salad and a fresh loaf of sourdough bread from the local bakery, which happened to be the same contributions she had made to last month’s Italian-themed potluck.
She raced home to her little bungalow, stopping first by the bakery around the corner to buy the bread. Rushing around, setting the table, making a big pitcher of sweet tea, doing a bit of last-minute picking up, she thought of Colin and wondered how far he’d made it by now.
The phone began to jangle in her purse as it sat on the breakfast bar. She raced to grab it and saw it was Colin calling.
“I was just thinking about you.”
“That’s always good to hear.”
His warm and comforting voice brought a smile to her lips.
“Where are you now?” Emily slid onto a bar stool and crossed her legs.
“I just drove through Reno, so I’ve got a few more hours to go. Enough about me, how was your day?”
“I got Maggie and Molly to the airport. They should be landing soon in Hawaii.”
“Lucky dogs.”
She was glad he called, happy to tell him about her day. She needed to tell someone. “Oh, by the way, I wanted to let you know that I figured out what that mysterious brass key goes to.
“From the safe deposit box?”
“Good memory.” Emily remembered standing in her walk-in closet the day the whole mystery about Evan came to light. She’d been contemplating packing his clothes away, hoping it might help her move on with her life. As she began taking his folded t-shirts off a shelf, a long silver key fell out from between the shirts and bounced on the floor. Once she’d figured out it was to a safe deposit box, well, her entire history with Evan came into question then.
“How did you find out what the key went to?”
“Funny thing, I sorted through yesterday’s mail and there was a letter from a storage facility. It said Evan’s annual prepaid renewal was coming due again the first of next month, so I assumed there must be a padlock on the unit.”
“There usually is. Did you know he had a storage unit?”
“No, I didn’t. Just one more thing he hid from me. I thought maybe the key would fit the lock, so I went by and checked it out today.”
“Did the key fit?”
“Yeah, but all there was in the place were some banker boxes with files in them.”
“I would have expected weapons, maybe, or some spy equipment—that sort of thing.”
“Me, too, but no—just files. I went through almost half of them today. It was pretty interesting reading.”
“I’ll bet. You’d better not tell anyone else about it, though. I doubt the CIA would want anyone knowing that intel is floating around out there.”
“You’re probably right. I have enough drama in my life right now. I don’t need the CIA giving me grief too.”
“Maybe you should think about moving those boxes somewhere more protected,” Colin suggested. “What about Isabel’s place? Don’t they live in a gated community? I imagine they have an alarm on their house.”
“Yes, but…”
How could she tell him she had suspicions about Isabel? That she wasn’t sure if she could trust her anymore? They had been best friends for the last five years, but lately she was starting to suspect Isabel wasn’t who she seemed, either.