Page 18 of Hiding Hollywood

Alone in the office, she sat down in the small, black computer chair. “Let’s see what we’ve got.” The computer booted up and immediately started an update.

Thirty-minutes later, Addie had updated every program or eliminated a few of the out-of-the-box ones that no one ever used to free up space. It still didn’t operate the way she needed it to so she could install the applications to reroute her IP Address.

The OS was three versions old. She logged into the manufacturer's website and used her personal login to purchase an entirely new system, customizing the installation to maximize memory. A couple hundred dollars charged to her secret account, the one bank account she didn’t have to cancel the debit card on since she never carried it with her, didn’t matter when she’d lose out making hundreds of thousands ifMiss Alicekicked her out of the group. It was also one that had the information saved so she couldn’t buy a new computer from another online store.

If Mrs. Dempsey hadn’t used the computer in that long, she wouldn’t notice how many changes Addie made. Besides, there wasn’t anything she did to Mrs. Dempsey’s computer that she couldn’t undo. She’d wipe it clean before she left. Eliminate all traces that she’d even been in Statem if possible. It’d keep them safe.

“Addie?” Mrs. Dempsey called from the kitchen.

Five already. Maybe she’d get to work on it tonight after everyone else went to sleep. Right now, she had a harder task than reprogramming an entire operating system. She had to cook meatloaf.

6

Cameron paused by the screen door, taking in the scene unfolding in his parents’ kitchen. His mom stood at the stove, stirring a pot of what he hoped were mashed potatoes to go with the meatloaf he smelled as soon as he stepped out of his truck. But Addie changed the familiar view entirely.

She wore her glasses again, hair in a sloppy ponytail, a little crooked like she’d thrown it up in a rush. Her head thrown back, laughing at something his mom said. So relaxed. Happy. He wanted to be the one to make her laugh.

“Are you going in?” Dewey rubbed his hands together. “I’m ready for some dinner.”

“Why aren’t you eating at your house?”

Dewey rolled his eyes and pushed past him. “We are here for the same reasons.”

Cameron reached out a hand, stopping Dewey from going into his house. “You can’t date her.”

“Date? I don’t plan on getting killed by the Sheriff by trying to make a move on your mom.” Dewey scratched his head. “I mean, she’s a nice-looking lady, but she practically raised me. I don’t—”

“Shut up.” Cameron pinched the bridge of his nose. “Nevermind. I thought you meant you were here to date Addie.”

“Ah. The houseguest. No. Can’t say I had any intentions that direction. Nash gave me the run down.” He grinned and nudged Cameron in the side. “Said you had a thing for her, so I better stay clear.”

“I don’t have a thing.”

“Boys?” His mom appeared in the door. “Are you going to come in and eat or not? The potatoes are done. Let me grab the peas, and everything will be on the table.”

Dewey opened the screen door. Addie looked up from where she set the butter dish on their worn, kitchen table. She snatched off her glasses and tugged down her hair. It fell around her shoulders like a curtain. “Hello,” she said, a pleasant, not fake smile in place. Great. His friend gets the sweet and honest Addie.

“Hi there. I’m Dewey.” He held out his hand and shook hers. “Nice to meet you.”

Cameron stayed behind Dewey another moment. Until Addie tipped to the side to see around him. “Hi, Cameron.”

“Hi,” he mumbled, shoving his hands in his pockets.

Addie pulled out a chair and sat down. Dewey started to pull out the one beside her until he looked at Cameron.

No. He didn’t want Dewey sitting beside her because he wanted to sit there. Dewey gave him a quick smile and changed seats.

Dewey nudged Cameron, dropping his voice to barely a mumble. “Right. I can see you don’t have a thing.”

Mr. Stinson walkedthrough the front door of the Sheriff’s office. Cameron exhaled and pulled out his pad of paper, tearing off the sheet that contained the notes from Aldo Fitzgerald’s visit less than an hour ago. Not that Cameron minded visitors. More visitors usually made the workday pass faster. Too bad it was because of the unusual rash of vehicle and house break-ins and not because the town realized how boring it usually got at the Sheriff’s office.

“Cameron.” Mr. Stinson sat down across from him in the old, metal chair. A light coat of red dust covered his gray flannel shirt. Hopefully, something other than a theft had brought the peanut farmer into the station.

“Afternoon, Mr. Stinson. What can I do for you?”

He shrugged. “I wish you didn’t have to do anything for me. We’ve all heard the news about someone goin’ round and stealing things from cars and such.” He scratched his cheek. “I’m ‘fraid it’s hit a little too close to home. Broke into my daughter’s Honda last night. Took Laura’s purse and laptop. I’ve warned her about keeping those things in her car, but she doesn’t listen. Can’t blame her too much, though. Statem used to be safe enough to leave your front door open.”

The town’s safety rested in his hands. He had to catch the person responsible for this. It’d not only prove to everyone in Statem that he could take over when his dad retired, but it might prove to himself he could do the job.

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