Page 44 of Skeletons in the Closet

Patting his cheek made him flinch, but I did it anyway. “I know it hurts your soul to smile, but you’re impressed with my wit right now, aren’t you?”

He narrowed his eyes, lips twitching, and turned back to the computer.

Yeah, brooding Diem Krause was trying hard not to smile, but I had his number.

Beth’s browser history was open. He must have done that while I was getting Indy set up. Diem scanned the list of websites she’d visited while I snapped pictures. Our time was limited. The faster we could get in and out, the better.

“Got it?” he asked.

“Yep.”

Before he clicked over to her email, I dropped a hand on his shoulder. “Hold on. Wait. Stop.”

Diem stiffened at the contact—or maybe it was because my mouth was so close to his ear.

“What?” he asked, shrugging me off.

I pointed to one of the listings under the History tab. “That’s the Toronto Police Department website.”

Diem clicked it, and it took him to the area I updated regularly as the records clerk. It was where information was posted for current cases, or the department asked the public for help to solve ones that weren’t going anywhere. I didn’t need to examine the contents of the site. I was familiar since I’d posted to it that morning.

“Why would she go there?” I wondered out loud.

“Looking for information on Noah’s death?”

“Noah killed himself. That doesn’t make sense.”

“I don’t know.”

We didn’t have time to ponder theories. Diem opened Beth’s email. Ninety percent of it was work-related, so finding the personal emails among them was tricky. Diem used the search bar. He typed Noah’s name, but it came back with the same emails we’d already seen.

“Try looking for correspondence between her and our elusive bastard.”

Bingo. There were three besides the one Beth had forwarded to Olivia. Now we were getting somewhere.

“Little more to the left, Indy?” I shouted.

“Okay.” A second later, he asked, “Your left or mine?”

I chuckled, and Diem scrubbed a hand over his face, muttering “Jesus fucking Christ” under his breath.

“Yours,” I shouted as Diem opened the first email.

From: [email protected]

To: [email protected]

Holy shit. I can’t believe he killed himself. What the fuck is happening? You promised we would be safe. Who all knows? Do you think he told anyone? Olivia said his wife was suspicious. What if she found out? Oh god. This is bad.

The second highlighted email was in response to the first.

From: [email protected]

To: [email protected]

What did I tell you about emails? Go home to your husband and kids and enjoy your happy married life. He was a paranoid idiot. Don’t contact me again, or you’ll be found out. Stop taking unnecessary risks.

“Picture,” Diem said. I snapped a shot with my phone and shouted another random command at Indy. “Almost done, bud.Three minutes tops.”

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