briefly, keeping my attention mostly on the slowing traffic ahead of us.
Property Records: Sherman, PA
Street?
He typed more, and then a map pulled up.
Zoom.
The street expanded, numerical addresses blinking.
11589 Old Oak Lane.
Number and words. That’s all they were. Somehow, though, that particular combination of digits and letters jumped off the screen, drilled through my sternum, and pierced my pump of a heart.
Sarah’s address.
My address.
The epicenter of a past life: a normal life, filled with everyday happiness and sorrow. The place where this had all started.
“Not bad,” I said, satisfied that I sounded normal, despite the glaring reminder of everything I’d lost, right there on the screen.
He pretended to ignore me, but I caught his quick smile.
Current property value: $534,000
Lot square footage: 1950 ft.
Last sale: 119 days prior
Previous owner name: access code needed
He paused, fingers on keys, biting his lower lip.
“Do you need help accessing that?”
His lips turned up into a smile. “Think you can do this faster on the laptop than I can?”
“Of course,” I said. Sometimes it took a machine to make a machine work.
He gestured to the nearest exit sign. “Pull over and it’s all yours.”
I accepted the challenge and barreled down the ramp, taking a quick detour. I steered the Caprice toward the first Dunkin’ Donuts I saw and parked the car, grabbing the laptop from Lucas.
“Should I go inside and buy a coffee and a cruller? Kill some time while you search?” he asked, raising his eyebrows at me.
“Stay put. This will only take me a few seconds.”
All I needed to do was override the access code. I’d just connect with the company’s computer server—
Connection. Right. Not going to happen.
I frowned at the screen. I’d always just commanded myself to interface with other computers before. Now I had to try and do this old-school.
“Don’t even,” I said to Lucas. His bark of laughter turned into a choked cough.
Okay, think. Think. This access code, it was just a temporary stumbling block. If I could issue a data recall and pull up some kind of coding that might act as a trip wire, I could enter it into Lucas’s laptop and sidestep the network security.
Data recall
Search for programming trip wire
Request for relevant codes
Soon I had a multitude of options waiting to choose from, and once I locked on to one, I began typing furiously, cursing when I made a few errors.
“Stupid keyboard,” I said.
After a few more missteps, I had the access code overridden. But not in the split second I had been expecting, either.
“There!” I punched the air with my fist.
Lucas didn’t say a word, but the way he’d pressed his lips together to avoid laughing gave him away.
“Fine. You’re faster on the laptop. For now,” I added, handing his laptop back to him.
He graciously didn’t acknowledge my defeat. He just took the laptop and began hunting through the information, making sure I could see the screen too. The previous house owner had lived there for five years—long enough that she could have met Sarah—but she’d moved to Washington State. Not exactly easy for us to meet.
Together, we searched through the houses nearest to Sarah’s—all rentals and short-term owners until:
Current owner/resident: Margaret Applebaum
According to the records, she’d lived on Sarah’s block for thirty-plus years. “This lady seems like our best bet. Should we do a drive-by, see if she’s home, and ask her some questions?”
“Sounds good to me,” I said.
Finally, he straightened in his seat, stretching his arms overhead and groaning. Then he placed one hand on my knee. “All joking aside, nice bit of teamwork there.”
His short hair was flat on one side, sticking out on the other, and his shirt was rumpled. But his gaze was clear and steady as he smiled at me.
Teamwork. Team. Like he considered me an equal.
A flutter rose beneath my ribs, and the place where his hand rested on my leg felt unnaturally warm. I shifted a little behind the wheel of the car. That must have clued him in to my sudden discomfort because he jerked his hand away and cleared his throat, turning back to the laptop like it might save him.
Unsure of what to make of my own reaction, I opened the car door, letting a burst of cold air inside. “So, coffee and a cruller before we go?”
Lucas scratched the back of his head before holding up Tim’s credit card. “Sure. Why not?”
SIX
White-and-gray wood. Single story. Elongated porch.
All of the house, wrong, wrong, wrong.
I plastered a moist-feeling palm against the window of the car. There should be