Page 8 of Cornered

“Might not be a bad idea.” She hesitated, then held up the notebook. “The cops missed this when they were cleaning out Brenda’s desk. It was taped to the side of one of her drawers and came loose. I found it when the drawer wouldn’t slide back in right.”

“What is it?”

“I don’t know.” She handed it to him. “Have you seen it before?”

“No.” He flipped through it. “Weird. None of that makes any sense.”

“I think it’s a code of some kind.”

“ENNB? What’s that?”

“Beats me, but I’ll figure it out.”

“Why don’t I keep it? Maybe I can study it.”

“The cops will want it. It’s part of the contents of her desk.”

He frowned. “They’re on the way to get it?”

“Not yet. I called and told them I had it, but no one’s called me back yet. Someone will.”

“Right.” He passed the book back to her. “Well, let me know if they need me for anything. I’ll be in my office for a little bit, then I’m taking off. I’m like you. Can’t concentrate.”

“Yeah.” She studied him a moment. “Stan, are you sureyou don’t know what Brenda was working on? I mean, did she mention a specific client she was having trouble with?”

He shook his head. “Nope, and that’s what I told the police. I even went through her entire client load looking to see if a name jumped out at me, but”—he shrugged—“nothing.”

“Okay. Well, thanks.”

“And now, I’m going to make a phone call and take off. My kids said something about coming home for the weekend, so I want to help the wife get things straightened up for them. You should go home too.”

“I will. Soon.” She gave him a hug, then went back to work. After an hour of nothing, she finally gave up and dialed Tate’s number.

He picked up on the third ring. “Tate Cooper here.” His voice sounded different. A deeper bass than earlier. Like he had a sore throat.

“Did I wake you?” she asked.

“Yeah, but it’s a good thing. I was taking a break and fell asleep.”

“Sleeping on the job is allowed these days? I need to switch careers.”

“Cute. I had permission due to bad scheduling on my part.”

“Ah. You worked all night and then caught this case before you could go home.”

He chuckled. “Exactly. Now you know my secrets. What can I do for you?”

“I found something that I think you need to see. It’s a notebook that belonged to Brenda. I’m going to leave work in about five minutes if you want me to meet you somewhere.”

“What if I just swing by your place?”

“That works.” She gave him her address and hung up, gathered her things and Brenda’s notebook, then waved goodbye to Stan, who was still on the phone and pacing his office.

He returned her wave, then went back to his phone conversation. And his pacing. He was usually so even-keeled it was odd to see him off-kilter, but Brenda’s death had obviously thrown him. Like it had all of them. She almost stopped to ask if he was okay but didn’t want to interrupt since he was obviously making a number of calls. Probably to clients who needed to know about Brenda’s death. She’d catch up with him next week.

In the parking garage, she hurried toward her Subaru Outback, pumps clicking on the concrete floor. Leaving early meant getting a head start on the usual flood of traffic exiting the building, and it was eerily quiet except for the road noise two floors down.

And something else. Footsteps. Quiet ones, but nevertheless...

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