The Keeper of Bees - Gregory Ashe Page 0,64

thinking of myself as Donny sometimes.” The big man fumbled with the bedding, and his gaze slid away. “Have you heard anything about Gray?”

“No,” Hazard said, drawing the laptop out of a backpack. “In fact, we need your help.”

“That’s Gray’s,” Darnell said. “What’s going on?”

“We don’t know. All we know is that Nico was supposed to pick up a friend, get the moving truck, and help Dulac load it. Nico never showed up. And now no one can get in touch with Dulac. With either of them, actually.” Hazard passed the laptop. “We’re hoping you can get us past his password and help us figure out where he might be.”

Opening the device, Darnell pressed something, and the screen came to life. The Windows 10 background appeared, and when Darnell tapped something, the computer prompted him for a password. Darnell stopped and looked up at Hazard.

“Isn’t there some way to reset it?” Hazard said. “I know how to do that on older versions, but not on this new one.”

“I’m not a hacker,” Darnell said. “I told you that. If I had time, I could ship this out to some guys I work with. They could have a go at it. But we’re talking, I don’t know, probably three days minimum.”

“We don’t have that kind of time. What about his password?”

“I don’t know his password.”

“You’re his boyfriend.”

“I don’t know his password. He never told me.”

“You helped him with his computer before.”

“Yeah, but I didn’t ask for his password.”

Gum popped on the other side of the curtain; Hazard was almost certain he could smell Juicy Fruit. A page rustled.

“Nobody asked me,” Sheila said, “but I read in Better Homes and Gardens that most people use password as their password. Or 1234. Or their birthday.”

With a shrug, Darnell began typing.

“Don’t you dare,” Hazard said.

“It’s a good suggestion.”

Hazard tried not to groan.

Darnell typed and clicked and shook his head. Then he went through it again. Then again.

“Well?” Sheila asked.

“It didn’t work,” Hazard said through gritted teeth.

“That’s why I said most people.” Gum popped again, definitely Juicy Fruit. “Oh! What about names of pets?”

“He doesn’t have pets.”

“What about pets he had as a kid?”

“He didn’t have pets as a kid,” Hazard roared, yanking the curtain back and fixing Sheila with another glare. She jumped as though she’d been goosed, and then she put a hand over heart and made a cooing noise. “Please turn on the TV and watch your program,” Hazard said, trying to moderate his tone and not doing very well. “Thank you for trying to help.”

Then he jerked the curtain back into place.

“Most people don’t yell when they’re saying thank you,” Darnell said.

Hazard turned slowly toward him.

“Uh,” Darnell said, “right. Anyway. You’re sure Gray didn’t have pets when he was a kid.”

“It’s logical.”

“Wait. You don’t know?”

“Based on the details I do know—”

“I’m going to check his Facebook page,” Darnell said, getting out his phone and tapping at the screen.

Hazard sank into the vinyl-covered chair, trying to think. What would Dulac use as a password? Dulac liked partying; he liked hot guys; he liked himself—young and attractive and in charge. Something to do with police work? An important case he had closed? Or something more . . . personal. A porn star he liked? A high-end alcohol that was trendy right now? A favorite sex toy or position or inclination?

The door opened, and the curtain billowed on the sudden movement of air. A woman’s voice asked, “What’s going on in here? We heard some yelling.”

A snap-crackle-pop of gum followed, and Sheila said, “Nothing, doll. Just the TV.”

“How are you doing today, Miss Sheila?”

“Better, doll. A lot better.”

“Let’s get your vitals while I’m here.”

Hazard tuned out the rest of the conversation, trying to get his thoughts back on track. He had watched, statistically, a sub-average amount of porn, and it was unlikely he’d be able to guess who Dulac favored. He also doubted that he’d be able to guess a sex toy or predilection, if Dulac were using one as a password. Hazard had been mildly shocked in a few unfortunate conversations to find that Dulac was substantially more . . . worldly than he was. At least, in some areas.

Pulling out his phone, Hazard decided to try to look for old news stories about Dulac’s cases in Springfield. Maybe something there had been big enough, career defining, and Dulac might refer to it in a password. As he tapped through the search, bits and pieces of Sheila’s conversation with the nurse filtered through.

“. .

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