Page 107 of The Wicked

“Don’t be a stranger.”

Then he was gone, and so were we.

36

SARA

“At least she didn’t use a flash drive,” Blue said. “The data would be degraded for sure. How close was the hard drive to the hot water pipe?”

Luca considered the question. “A couple of feet away? There were two joists in between.”

“So we stand a chance. One time, I did a job for an old guy in Reedsport, and I remember him bitching and moaning because he wanted to show me a document on his portable hard drive and it wouldn’t work. They just don’t make things like they used to, he said. So I asked how old the drive was, and he said he’d bought it the day after his granddaughter’s twelfth birthday. When I asked how old she was now, he said she’d be thirty next month.” Blue rolled her eyes. “Of course, even if the drive opens, we might need technical help to read the actual files. It depends on what format Claire used.”

We’d regrouped in Aaron’s apartment, all eight of us. When I’d quietly questioned whether it was appropriate for Deck to stay, Luca had shrugged and said Deck wasn’t a gossip. Even so, his presence left me uncomfortable.

“So what do we do next?” I asked.

“We find the oldest laptop we have that still works, plug the drive in, and pray.”

And curse, it turned out. Because when we loaded up the drive, we got our miracle as it whirred slowly into life. The disc held only one folder, called “Claire,” just in case there was any doubt over who had put it there, and when Aaron clicked on it, a box popped up, asking for a password.

Blue huffed. “Well, shit.”

Seven heads swivelled to look at me.

“Any ideas?” Aaron asked.

“Absolutely none.”

“We could try the usual suspects? Password123?”

Oh, please. “My mom was smart, and she went to all the trouble of hiding a hard drive under the floor. She wouldn’t have used a dumb password like that.”

“So come up with a better idea.”

“How? I don’t even recall her owning this hard drive, and I barely used the computer. I was nine years old, remember? Mom and Dad thought it was better for me to dance and read and spend time outdoors.”

“Let’s just try it,” Aaron said, typing.

Incorrect password. Two attempts remaining.

Luca smacked him on the shoulder. “You asshole.”

“Maybe we should call Parker,” I joked.

Blue shook her head. “We don’t need to. Don’t you see—your mom gave you the password. Third floor window. Pipes. Fires. Dust. Eight sixteen. We’ve already used the first four words.”

“So the password is ‘fires dust eight sixteen’?”

“Probably.”

“Probably? We only have two tries left.”

“Is ‘eight sixteen’ numbers or letters?” Aaron asked.

“I’d assume numbers,” Blue said. “August sixteenth is Sara’s mom and dad’s anniversary.”

It was? When you were a kid, you never thought of those things, only birthdays and Christmas, basically the occasions when you got gifts. And Thanksgiving, because who didn’t love food?

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