Page 24 of Heart of Stone

Okay. So far, I had illegal guns and an obsession with Ancient Egypt as my clues. It wasn’t looking promising.

At this point, I had done a decent sweep of the rest of the room, and now all I had left was Trevor’s personal desk. It felt wrong to go through his things there, as if it was more private than anything else he owned. But what choice did I have? I’d come so far, and I needed to finish this thing.

Sitting at his desk gave me a wave of fresh grief, something I hadn’t felt so sharply in months. His touch was so clearly all over everything here that it was painful; everything from his pens to the empty hard candy wrappers tucked into a corner.

There were two large filing drawers and two smaller ones above. I thought nothing could surprise me anymore, but buried deep in the bottom of the last drawer I checked was a manila envelope labeled “In Case Of Emergency”. I pulled out the papers inside it carefully, but to my surprise, when I turned the envelope upside down to shake it, a handful of plastic cards fell out.

They were all IDs, and when I picked one up for a closer look, I felt utter disbelief. All dozen IDs were for Trevor and me, but all were under fake names. The papers were all the other information about these aliases, including birth dates and any other pertinent information. Behind all that, there was contact information for a bunch of people I didn’t recognize, labeled “contacts”. My stomach flip-flopped as I took it all in. There was no good explanation for all of this; nothing except that Trevor was deep into some shit that he couldn’t dig himself out of, and he had been planning on taking me with him for the ride.

Last of all, there was one more printout, and this one made me actually cover my mouth with my hand in horror. It was an entire biography for me. The names of all my close family, every place I had ever worked, every car I had ever owned, all the way down to my medical history and blood type.

There were details about the time I had broken my wrist in third grade listed, right alongside the stitches I had gotten from cutting my hand on a pair of crafting scissors in high school. Trevor had my bank account numbers, credit history, and the list of people I had dated. And not just their names but photos and other details about each of them as well.

I had to stop reading when my eyes filled with tears. I dropped the paper to the desk, folded my arms on the wooden surface, laid my head down, and cried. It was a mixture of sadness, anger, embarrassment, but most of all, fear. Nothing about this was normal. Not a single bit of it. Trevor had been in some sort of trouble or caught up in something illegal, and he would have dragged me down with him.

Nearly an hour passed before I got control of myself again. It just wasn’t fair. I was so close to being back on track with my life, and now I was spiraling down again, pulled by whatever mess Trevor had gotten me into. I didn’t know what to do, or even the first step to take, except to possibly call my attorney in the morning. Or the police—except calling the police around here meant calling Sheriff Buck. Not an option.

Disgusted with the entire room, I pushed myself up out of the computer chair, hands gripping the edge of the desk. Right before I let go, I felt the brush of paper against one of my fingertips, so I reached underneath, fingers searching upward, until I found a small post-it note. Just like the ones he would leave me little love notes on, except this one read “PASSWORD: Anubis1493”. The laptop password, no doubt.

There was no surge of excitement this time. I simply couldn’t imagine going through anything more of Trevor’s stuff tonight, so I laid the note down on the desk and nearly jogged out of the room, as if something was nipping at my heels.

It had been one shitshow of a day, and I’d had more than enough of it. I should have just gone to work, dark circles or not, and had the damned office emptied out by professionals. It wasn’t worth it to me anymore, to see what Trevor had been up to. If what I had discovered today told me anything, it was that I was just a pawn in some unknown game, and I had been blind to it the whole time. For the first time since his death, I wondered if Trevor had even loved me at all.

I glared at his urn before sighing, shoulders slouching in misery. I had to choose a path forward, but I had no idea what to do.

This time, it was 2:15 a.m. when my phone went off, the security app alerting me once more that someone was outside. My heart galloped as I pulled up the camera, but this time, there was nothing to be seen.

I watched and watched, afraid that if I looked away, I’d miss whoever was causing the alarm to trigger. I tried to keep my breathing quiet in case someone was in the house, but I could hear the whine of panic in it as clear as day.

I hated myself for it, but I wanted to call the police again. There was the chance it would be another officer instead of Buck, and then I wouldn’t be so completely and utterly isolated from other people. Hell, even Buck, kept at a distance, was better than being cornered by some burglar.

Though, I guessed I did have my own guns now, no matter how questionably legal they might be.

Time continued to pass, and still nothing showed up on the screen. I felt my eyes begin to droop, and I pinch the inside of my arm to stay awake.

By 3 a.m. I was confident that whoever had been creeping outside wasn’t there now. I allowed myself to leave the live feed, and check the saved videos that the cameras stored whenever there was an alert. There were only two clips saved, both under ten seconds in length, and both from the camera at the far back of the house. I had to squint to see it, but when I looked closely enough, I spotted a figure moving in the trees, dark and ominous.

Whoever it was seemed to be pacing the perimeter, trying to gauge the reach of the cameras, maybe? Or they could have been casing the place and getting all the information possible while under the cover of darkness.

The figure was dressed head to toe in black, and the way they moved so slowly could almost make me believe it was something supernatural, but the broken window downstairs told me otherwise.

At that thought, my heart banged against the front of my chest,hard.The office window wasn't even boarded up, and there was someone sneaking around the lot. How could I be so stupid!? I couldn’t believe I forgot about the damned window, too occupied by all the horrible things I found in Trevor’s office.

I wrapped my arms tightly around myself, feeling nearly hysterical. I wanted to leave this place. I wanted to move back to the city, where there was a neighbor right down the hall or street that could be called in case of an emergency. Even the darkened streets downtown at midnight felt safer than being out in these woods on my own.

I suddenly wished I had worn something more substantial to bed than a silk pair of panties and a tank top, but the Texas heat had gotten the better of me. Now, though, I was frightened, and it made me shiver, goosebumps rising on my skin.

I fumbled through my laundry basket, finding a pair of pants and pulling them on, intending to do a quick sweep of the inside of the house. When I was pulling them up, I felt something in the back pocket; it was the Stone Security business card, and it felt to me like a twist of fate. The universe must be telling me, “Here is the answer to your problems”.

I had looked up Stone Security, and there was little to be found about them. Unlike commercial security companies, this one was incredibly private, which usually means incredibly pricey, too. It didn’t surprise me, though. Trevor never did anything by half measures.

Making up my mind on the spur of the moment, I dialed the number on the card. It went straight to voicemail, just a gruff voice reciting the name of the company, and instructing the caller to leave a detailed message describing any incidents.

“Um, hi. My name is Rachel Starr, and I’m calling from the Lace Elm residence. The account is probably under my late fiancé’s name, Trevor Smith, but, since he’s late–no longer with us, is what I’m trying to say. Oh my God. Let me try that again.”

Embarrassed over a voicemail of all things, I cleared my throat and gave it another shot, channeling my most professional voice.

“Hi, this is Rachel Starr. My account is probably under my fiancé’s name, Trevor Smith, but he has unfortunately passed. I have been having trouble the past two nights with trespassers, one who shattered my window, and I’ll need it replaced along with a new alarm. I was hoping you could send out a technician to go over any gaps I might have in my security system, because these people trying to get inside the house have me very concerned. Thanks. Have a pleasant night.” Before I hung up, I added a quick. “Sorry for calling so late.”

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