Sympathy darkened Indie’s eyes. “I’m sorry this sucks so much.”
“It does suck.” Ugly-crying, don’t-want-to-get-out-of-bed kind of suck.
They stopped at her Volkswagen Beetle in The Tea House parking lot.
“Any news on Scarlett or the hospital?” Indie asked.
A car pulled in beside Clara’s, but she ignored it. “Not since we found out it was fentanyl and morphine that killed her.”
She hadn’t seen Malcolm since she’d walked past that office and heard him arguing. But that was mostly because Jesse had basically prohibited her.
“I can’t believe patients were probably being drugged by someone who worked there,” Indie said quietly.
“I know. I still don’t think Malcolm is responsible. Scarlett must have figured out who was behind it, and it got her killed. But her laptop was taken, so unless there’s another way to figure out what she—” She stopped, a memory crashing back to her.
Indie stepped closer. “What?”
“That night she died, Scarlett was acting really strange.”
“Strange how?”
“Remember how I ran back into the house?”
“Yeah, you forgot your phone.”
“She was rummaging through the spice drawer. But there were no other ingredients on the counter. There was no cake or cookies in the fridge when I got home. No dirty bowls. I can’t believe I’m only realizing it now!”
“I don’t—”
“What if she wasn’t baking anything—what if she was hiding something? Maybe she knew someone was onto her and she needed a safe place to put something?”
“Put what?”
“I don’t know. But I’m going to find out.” She turned and opened her car door, but Indie grabbed her arm.
“Clara, maybe you should call Jesse.”
“I will. I’ll call him as soon as I’ve checked the spice drawer. This might be nothing, and I don’t want to waste his time.” She gave Indie a quick hug. “I’ll let you know what I find.”
This was good. Something to focus on other than the heaviness of the last week that tried to swamp her. And maybe she’d also learn something about Scarlett’s death.
When she pulled into her driveway, her pulse sped up in anticipation of what she might find. She sprinted to the kitchen and opened the spice drawer. Then, one by one, she took everything out, tipping the spices onto the counter, not caring that she was going to have to replace everything or that she was making a mess.
She was halfway through when doubt started to flicker in her mind. Was she being ridiculous? Maybe Scarletthadbaked something. Maybe she’d eaten it or given it away and cleaned up after herself?
She was on the verge of giving up when she lifted a jar of peppercorns. Quickly, she opened the lid and poured them out…and that’s when she saw it.
A USB.
Her breath caught. She lifted it from the kitchen counter, her pulse picking up speed.
“Scarlett…what did you find?”
She was about to call Jesse when a rustling noise sounded. From the hallway?
She turned to see her front door ajar.
The back of her neck prickled. Had she left it like that? She couldn’t remember. She’d been in a rush to search the jars, so it was possible.
