Chương 13
"Everything."
"Why?"
"He said his laptop was acting weird and he was scared it would die."
"When?"
"April."
The spreadsheet had already existed by then.
So had the drafts.
"Did you ever look at the backup?"
"No."
"Did he ask for it back?"
"Once."
"When?"
"Maybe June."
"Why didn't you give it to him?"
"I forgot."
I almost laughed.
The first useful thing anyone had done all day was forget a hard drive in a drawer.
"Where are you now?"
"Still outside Mom and Dad's."
"Stay there."
"Anna—"
"Stay there."
She went quiet.
Then she said, "Okay."
I ended the call.
Mark was staring at the computer.
"April."
"What?"
"She backed this up in April."
"Yes."
He tapped the screen.
"Then anything after April shouldn't be here."
He was right.
The wedding draft had been modified two days earlier.
So had the contingency file.
Beth leaned over his shoulder.
"Could the backup be syncing?"
Mark frowned.
"If it was set up that way."
"Was it connected to anything?"
"Not physically."
"Cloud?"
He opened the drive properties.
There was a sync utility installed.
He swore under his breath.
"What?"
"This drive was mirrored to a cloud account."
"Whose?"
"I don't know yet."
He clicked through settings.
An email address appeared.
I recognized it.
Daniel's secondary account.
The one he claimed he used for old subscriptions and spam.
Beth said, "So he can see when the drive comes online?"
"Possibly."
"Can he see where?"
"Maybe device info."
"Meaning?"
"IP address."
I stood up.
"Unplug it."
Mark did.
The screen went blank.
My hands felt cold again.
"He knows."
"Probably."
Beth looked at the door.
"Then we leave."
Mark shook his head.
"Not with the only copy."
I looked at him.
"What do you mean?"
"If the sync account is his, he could delete files remotely from the source."
"Can he delete what's already on the drive?"
"Depends how it's configured."
"Can you make a copy without reconnecting it to the internet?"
Mark nodded slowly.
"Yes."
Beth pulled out her phone.
"Then airplane mode this computer."
"It doesn't have airplane mode."
"Then kill the network."
Mark reached behind the workstation and unplugged an Ethernet cable.
He disabled Wi-Fi too.
Then he plugged the drive back in.
The folder returned.
"We copy to a fresh drive."
"I don't have one."
Mark opened a cabinet beneath the television.
Inside were cables, adapters, two unopened flash drives, and enough obsolete electronics to stock a small museum.
He held up one drive.
"Company swag."
Beth looked at the logo.
"Finally, capitalism contributes."
He copied the entire folder.
The progress bar crawled.
Forty-two minutes.
I stared at it.
"Of course."
Beth pulled a chair beside me.
"Your dad still needs an X-ray."
"I know."
"Your mother is going to kill us."
"I know."
Mark stood by the window.
"No."
I took out my phone.
Mom had sent four messages.
Where are you?
Your father is pretending his pain level is a three.
It is not a three.
Call me.
I called.
She answered immediately.
"Where are you?"
"Two blocks away."
"Doing what?"
"Copying evidence."
There was a pause.
"What kind of evidence?"
"The kind I don't want to explain over the phone."
Another pause.
"Are you safe?"
"Yes."
"Is Daniel there?"
"No."
"Then stay where you are."
I glanced at Beth.
"That was easy."
"Your father is getting an X-ray."
"Against his will?"
"Of course."
I heard Dad in the background say, "This is government overreach."
Mom covered the phone badly.
"Ignore him."
Then she lowered her voice.
"Anna, a police officer is here."
My stomach tightened.
"Why?"
"Paula called them about the venue."
"Okay."
"They want to speak with you."
"Now?"
"Whenever you're ready."
I looked at the copying bar.
Eleven percent.
"Tell them I'm coming."
"Do you want them to wait?"
"No."
I stopped.
"Actually, yes."
Mom did not comment on the contradiction.
When the call ended, Beth said, "You don't have to decide anything before talking to them."
"I know."
Mark looked at me.
"Bring the drive."
"I intend to."
"Not the original."
"Why?"
"Chain of custody."
I stared at him.
"You sound like television."
"I work in compliance."
"That's somehow worse."
He almost smiled.
Then his face sobered.
"Just don't hand over anything until you know what you're handing over."
I nodded.
The copy reached twenty-six percent.
My phone rang again.
This time it was an unknown number.
I let it ring.
Then a voicemail notification appeared.
Beth said, "Could be police."
"Could be Daniel on somebody else's phone."
"True."
I listened on speaker.
A woman's voice.
"Hi, Anna, this is Megan Lewis from Harrison and Cole."
I frowned.
Beth mouthed, Who?
The voicemail continued.
"I'm calling regarding a matter involving Daniel Mercer."
My stomach tightened.
"I understand today has been difficult, but Daniel has asked us to contact you concerning access to shared property and accounts."
Mark closed his eyes.
Beth whispered, "He got a lawyer already?"
The message continued.
"If you're represented by counsel, please have them contact us."
The woman left a number.
Then, almost as an afterthought, she said, "And please preserve any electronic records in your possession."
The voicemail ended.
Nobody spoke for several seconds.
Then Beth said, "Well."
Mark looked at the progress bar.
"Now we definitely preserve everything."
I called Mom again.
"Change of plan."
"What happened?"
"Daniel has a lawyer."
The silence on the other end was immediate.
"Already?"
"Apparently."
Mom's voice changed.
It became the tone she used for insurance disputes and school administrators.
"Then you are not talking to police alone."
"I wasn't planning to."
"You need your own attorney."
"I know."
"Do you know one?"
"No."
"I do."
"Of course you do."
"My friend Susan's daughter."
"The divorce lawyer?"
"Family law."
"That sounds close enough for today."
"Mom."
"What?"
"Don't tell her details by text."
"I am not eighty."
"You forward recipes with the entire email chain attached."
"That is unrelated."
I smiled despite myself.
"Just call."
May you like
The copy reached forty percent.
Mark paced once around the table.
