“Always.” I opened Justus’s computer, and the screen blinked to life instantly. And asked for a password.Damn it.
“I’m no chef, but I can handle a couple of sandwiches.” Titus pulled open the fridge and rummaged inside, then set half a loaf of bread on the counter. “Ham or turkey.”
“Surprise me.” I typed “password” into the prompt screen, and was denied access to the computer. “Hey Titus, I don’t suppose you know your brother’s password?”
“No. Try his middle name.”
“Okay.” I frowned at the computer balanced on my knees. “With a first name like Justus, his middle name must be Truth, or Patience, or something like that.”
Titus laughed. “Anthony.”
“JustusAnthonyAlexander,” I said as I typed his middle name into the field on the screen. “Nope. What else you got? Favorite book?”
“I’m not sure he’s read anything other than a textbook since he was about ten years old. Back then, he liked Harry Potter.”
“Okay.” I tried every character name I could remember from the series. No luck. “What’s your middle name?”
“Nathaniel. But he wouldn’t use that.” Titus looked up from spreading mustard on a slice of bread. “Try our mother’s name. Penelope.”
I typed that in, and the lock screen disappeared. “Yes!” Then I frowned. “I’m calling this a win for now, but when we find your brother, you need to tell him to use random words or phrases for his passwords.”
Titus chuckled. “When I was in college, my passwords were the first six digits of Fibonacci’s sequence or the first ten digits of pi, depending on the device.”
“And, the Nerd of the Year Award goes to Titus Nathaniel Alexander…” I said without turning away from the screen. “It looks like his computer is set to remember his other passwords, which is a security nightmare, but convenient for our well-intentioned but illicit purposes.”
“Turkey, pepper jack, and pickles. Justus doesn’t stock tomatoes or lettuce, or anything fresh. At all.” Titus sank onto the couch next to me holding two sandwiches. Each on its own paper plate. His leg touched mine from hip to thigh, and I could feel the warmth of his skin through both layers of denim. “So what do we know so far?”
I accepted my plate and set it on the couch cushion on my other side, trying not to think about how warm his leg felt. About how his shoulder brushed mine as he leaned in to see the screen. About how, if I turned, my lips would be less than two inches from his, and he’d be damn nearobligatedto kiss me. Or to hold still and let me do it.
“Well, it looks like he hasn’t posted on any social media in nearly a week,” I said, trying to purge thoughts that made me feel warm and raw all over. “But six days ago, he put up a shot of himself and the girl from the picture having lunch from a food truck. The caption reads, ‘Me and Ivy at Molly’s Tamales’.”
“Ivy. Shit,” Titus said around his first bite. “Wasn’t that the name of Corey Morris’s roommate’s girlfriend? The one who owned the cabin where he was attacked?”
I closed my eyes, trying to remember everything Corey had said about how he’d been infected. “I think so. Maybe it’s a different Ivy.”
Titus huffed. “That’d be a hell of a coincidence. The more logical conclusion is that Justus was involved with Morris’s friend’s girlfriend. Or she was cheating on Justus with Morris’s friend.” He leaned closer to glance at the laptop screen. “Do we have a last name?
“No, but he’s tagged her. Just a sec.” I clicked the link and took a bite of my sandwich while the page loaded. “Ivy Lowe. She’s a sophomore at Millsaps. There are several pictures of her in a dorm room, so it looks like she lives on campus. I bet her number’s in his phone. Why don’t you call her?”
Titus set his plate on the coffee table and pulled his brother’s phone from his pocket. He typed a four-digit number into the lock screen, and it disappeared.
“You knew the password?”
“No, but I can see the pattern. It was the date our parents died.”
Morbid, but understandable.
Looking over Titus’s shoulder—and breathing in his scent, inches from his neck—I could see that there was no Ivy in Justus’s short favorites menu. I took another bite, watching while Titus scrolled through the longer contacts list, then stopped. “Ivy Lowe. Cross your fingers.” He pressedcall, then held the phone up to his ear, and I could hear perfectly well when her voicemail picked up. “Well, that’s not good.”
“Maybe she’s in class.” I licked a smear of mustard from my upper lip, pleased to find him watching my mouth.
“At ten-thirty pm?”
I shrugged. “Maybe she’s studying. Or working. Or driving with her phone on do not disturb.” I took another bite and spoke around it. “She’ll probably text you back any minute in all caps, yelling at Justus for whatever he did to break them up.”
Titus glanced at me with one brow arched. “You’re assuminghebroke them up?”
“Your brother trashed his room, shredded his girlfriend’s underwear, and infected a stranger. Even if he didn’t mean to be, chances are that he was the problem.”
