“Yeah.”
“It’s a black notebook. It should be on my desk.”
I hear him moving around on the other end.
“Hold on,” he says. A few seconds pass before he adds, “Yeah, it’s here.”
My shoulders relax a little. “Does anything look off with it?”
“Off how?”
“I don’t know. Like someone was messing with it, or like any pages were torn out?”
I can hear pages shuffling over the phone. “Looks normal to me. All the pages are still here.”
“Nothing looks like it’s off in my room or anything?”
“No.”
Another pause.
“You want me to bring it to you? Where are you anyway?” he asks.
“No, just leave it there. I’ll be home in a little over an hour after Brinley gets off work.”
After we hang up, the weight that’s been sitting on my chest eases, but it’s not gone entirely. The notebook is still there, and the pages are still in it, which means no one took anything aside from snapping some photos.
I head back to my truck and climb in, shutting the door behind me. For a second, I just sit there, hands resting on the wheel, then reach for my phone.
Reed sent over a batch of files earlier. He told me to take a look and see if anything stood out. I pull them up and start flipping through them, scanning line by line.
I lean back in my seat, dragging a hand over my mouth as I stare at the screen, trying to make sense of the statements and transactions, with names I don’t recognize.
I get pulled into it, losing track of time. By the time I glance up, it’s almost the end of Brinley’s shift.
I text Reed next.
Me: You check the camera recently?
I don’t wait for a response before shoving my phone into my pocket and heading toward the bar. I’m not as frustrated as I was earlier. Now I’m just racking my brain trying to put the pieces together.
When I step inside again, the crowd has begun to thin out. Brinley is still behind the bar, moving around as she’s working on wrapping up her shift for the night.
As if she can feel me watching her, she looks up, and our eyes lock. But this time, she doesn’t smile.
“I’m back,” I say when I approach her.
She nods once and returns to closing out the register.
When she flips the lights and grabs her purse, I follow her down the hallway leading toward the alley and her place. I don’t ask her if she’s going to come with me, and the question quickly dissolves when she grabs her bag to pack up her things.
I lean against the doorframe and watch her while I wait.
“You don’t have to pack much,” I say.
She doesn’t turn to look at me. “I wasn’t planning on staying long anyway.”
I let that sit.
