His tiredness vanished. All other distractions fell away like a deck of cards from a child’s hands.
One of the app icons displayed on the phone belonged to Pacific Trust Bank. The rest of the apps looked like ones that had come preloaded onto the phone.
Zander tapped the Pacific Trust Bank icon. The app requested another password. This roadblock, he’d anticipated. He reached for the notepad on which Carolyn had jotted down all the passwords that she and Frank had ever used. The bank would no doubt demand a long password that contained a mix of numbers, uppercase and lowercase letters.
He scanned the list of known passwords, looking for one that matched those characteristics. The third one he tried, Frank&Caro1986, worked.
Account information filled the phone’s screen, and Zander released an amazed exhale. He scrolled through the list of withdrawals and deposits.
On the fifteenth day of every month, Frank’s employer deposited money into the account. On the first day of every month, a company called The Residences withdrew money from the account. The deposit from his employer and the withdrawals to The Residences were set to trigger automatically. Scattered between those two static transactions, Frank paid utility bills. Because Frank had steadily deposited more than he’d paid out, he’d built up a five-thousand-dollar balance.
Zander tapped on the hyperlink for The Residences. The app provided a phone number and an address in Olympia, Washington.
He memorized both.
Carefully, he placed Frank’s phone on the desk, as if rattling it might cause the clue to disappear. He picked up his own phone and ran a search for The Residences.
The seven-story apartment building gave the impression of modern solidity. According to The Residences home page, it had opened its doors eight years before.
He returned his attention to Frank’s phone and checked the date of the first rent payment Frank had made to The Residences. Eight years ago. In fact, that was the first payment he’d ever made via mobile banking using this bank account.
Assuming Frank had movedYoung Woman at Restto The Residences eight years ago, Zander had no way of knowing where he’d kept it prior to that time. Wherever it had been, Frank hadn’t paid for storage or rent fees via mobile banking.
How could he pinpoint Frank’s apartment number?
Frank must’ve been receiving rent and utility bills either via his mailbox at The Residences or via his email inbox. Or both.
Zander launched the email app. Sure enough, he found a row of bills inside the inbox. He opened the most recent statement from the electric company and—there.
Right at the top of the bill, it listed Frank’s address.4030 Oak FernWay, #618, Olympia, Washington.
Zander stared at the address until it blurred.
The top desk drawer released an accusing creak as Zander opened it. Since Frank’s death, Carolyn had kept many of his personal items here. His wallet. His business cards. His keys. His other phone, the non-secret one. The spare change he’d left on the kitchen counter the last time he’d been at the house.
Zander scooped up Frank’s keys. Nothing about the ordinary split ring holding several plain keys would arouse anyone’s interest. Yet, Zander would bet that this ring held the key to Frank’s apartment at The Residences. If anyone questioned Frank about that particular key, it would have been easy for Frank to shrug and say the key had been there so long that he’d forgotten what it opened.
Zander went to the back door, let Aurora out, then stood on the stoop. Should he take the keys without saying anything to Carolyn? Or should he ask to borrow them?
He had no idea how often she went through Frank’s things. If he took the keys without telling her and she realized they were missing, she’d go into a panic, and he’d have to backpedal. Betterto tell her. He’d say he planned to take the keys to a friend to see if the friend could give him information about them.
He hated lying to her. But since lying might protect her, he’d lie.
Aurora returned. She sat and peered up at him with a combination of kindness and disapproval, as if she could read his mind.
He’d take Frank’s cell phone, too. LOVE was not an extremely tricky four-letter word. It had evaded him for days, but now that he’d hit on it, it seemed almost elementary. Carolyn could come home from work tonight and figure it out. It was only a matter of time before Britt did.
At this point, he didn’t want either of them to know about The Residences. The meeting with Emerson had confirmed that there might be others—maybe several others and maybe dangerous others—who were aware that Frank possessedYoung Woman at Rest. Until the FBI arrived, knowledge about Frank’s apartment in Olympia could do nothing for Carolyn or Britt except endanger them.
He stuffed Frank’s phone and keys into his sweat shirt pocket, filled Aurora’s water dish, then locked the door behind him on his way to his car.
He sat behind the wheel in silence, searching the view for Emerson or any other suspicious person or vehicle. He saw nothing unusual. Even so, he could very well be under surveillance, and the information he’d just learned felt like it was flashing from him like the lights on top of a police car.
He drove a few miles, then parked in a lot adjacent to a busy restaurant.
He texted Carolyn, asking to borrow Frank’s phone and keys and giving his reasons why.
In under a minute, Carolyn replied that he was welcome to borrow Frank’s phone and keys.
