She walked across the room to the small writing desk that stood against the far wall.
“What is it, Willow?”
She couldn’t answer him. Her mind was buzzing with anticipation as she pulled the desk away from the wall, then hunkered down onto her haunches. There was a nearly imperceptible notch in the baseboard, just as she remembered.
Excitedly, she dashed to the bed where she’d tossed her purse and rifled through the handbag until she found what she was looking for. Her keychain full of girly charms and beaded talismans jingled as she rushed back with it to the spot on the floor.
Razor strode over to her and dropped down beside her. “What are you doing?”
Using her house key, she tried to pry off the small section of baseboard but her fingers were trembling too much in her impatience.
“Here,” Razor said. “Let me.”
A black talon sprouted from his index finger. He wedged it behind the baseboard and popped the piece off the wall.
A hollow just big enough for a child’s hand was revealed behind the removed bit of baseboard. “I used this hidey hole to store the train money I saved up for the night Laurel and I were going to run away. She’s the only other person who knew about my hiding place.”
She picked up her keychain again and flicked on the small flashlight. Leaning down, she aimed the thin beam of light into the hole. She gasped as the light caught on a small metallic object inside.
“There’s something in here, Razor.” She reached inside and pulled the item out, holding it in her open palm. “Holy shit. This is what Laurel wanted me to find.”
Razor stared at it for second, then met her excited gaze. “A flash drive.”
Willow nodded. “The question is, what’s on it?”
His face was grim. “Something important enough that she didn’t want anyone but you to find it.”
Willow glanced at the drive with a mix of elation and regret. “Do you think whatever’s on this is the reason my sister was killed?”
“That’s what we need to find out.”
She looked at him. “I don’t know anything about technology, Razor.”
“Leave that to me,” he said, a glint of wry confidence lighting his gaze. “Come on, let’s get out of here.”
CHAPTER 13
They headed downstairs, Razor carrying the flash drive in his pocket.
If it had been up to him, they would have kept walking right out the front door but Madame Gauthier came out of the sitting room to meet them as soon as they reached the bottom of the stairs. Her gaze was still warm and kind, but now it held an edge of suspicion too.
“We generally don’t allow locked doors here at St. Anne’s,” she said, splitting her disapproval between them before settling on Willow. “Madame Dupont has just gone to fetch our tea, dear. Come, let’s sit.”
Razor had to work to bite back the low growl that built in his throat as the director pivoted back into the sitting room. He held Willow back with a meaningful look, but she subtly shook her head.
“I don’t want to be rude,” she whispered. “I’ll only stay for a few minutes.”
He scowled, impatient to get his hands on the flash drive. Of course, he had no way of cracking into it at the moment, so until he figured out their next move he had no solid plan of action even if they left now.
“A few minutes, no more,” he cautioned under his breath. While she drank her tea he’d use the time to decide his next course of action.
They moved into the sitting room, Willow resuming her seat on the sofa while Razor opted to stand. He took up his position next to the portrait of Sister Agathe, feeling like a scowling gargoyle looming over the pleasant scene.
Delicate porcelain cups, saucers, and crisp white linen napkins rested on the coffee table between Willow and Madame Gauthier. The two women began a friendly conversation, Willow listening with apparent enthusiasm as the director told her about some of the additional changes she’d been implementing at St. Anne’s since she was put in charge.
Razor wasn’t paying much attention to anything being said. He waited with growing impatience for Madame Dupont to deliver the tea so he and Willow could get the hell out of there. His acute Breed hearing picked up the sounds of busyness in the kitchen somewhere on the first floor of the large townhouse, but as the minutes dragged on his annoyance grew.
As did his sense that something was wrong.
