Please don’t delete your account. I’ll wait.
Wait for what? Wait until she figured it out? She set the phone on the coffee table and leaned away from it, hugging her knees to her chest. Believing the messages had anything to do with Ian was a dangerous line of thinking and would rip off the scab that had only recently formed over her grief. Did she think he had somehow figured out how to communicate from the grave?
I’ll wait.
For my eyes only.
Rion Bodoh
The name stumped her even more than the glasses. It was too odd not to have significance. There was something she was supposed to see.
She stared at the name.
Rion Bodoh.
When she clicked over to her account preferences, they’d been turned off again. Whoever was sending the messages no longer wanted an e-mail alert to accompany them.
That night, when Kate was lying in bed wide-awake, it came to her so suddenly she couldn’t believe she hadn’t been able to see it before. Her heart thundered in her chest and goose bumps covered every inch of her skin.
Please don’t be wrong, please don’t be wrong, please don’t be wrong.
She threw back the covers and ran into the living room, turning on the lights on her way. She grabbed a piece of paper and a pen, crossing out each letter as she wrote them down in a new order.
Rion Bodoh.
Robin Hood.
Kate’s spirits soared and she began to cry.
After a sleepless night and a call to Helena to let her know she’d be in around eleven, Kate arrived at the storage facility in Bloomington shortly before nine o’clock. A little voice inside her head warned that if she was mistaken, or worse yet—if this was some kind of trick—the agony she would experience would be ten times harder to bear than the initial news of Ian’s death. But her hope was a snowball rolling downhill, gaining speed and momentum and strength, and she was powerless to stop it.
She walked through the front door of the storage facility wearing a pencil skirt, a push-up bra, and high heels. She carried a leather satchel.
The young man behind the counter looked about nineteen and very bored, but he perked up a little when she took off her coat, revealing a blouse that had one button too many undone.
“Good morning,” she said. In a matter-of-fact tone, she pulled a sheaf of papers from the satchel and clicked open a ballpoint pen. “I need a copy of a rental agreement. The name is Ian Merrick. M-E-R-R-I-C-K. Do you have that name in your system?”
He typed the name into his computer and looked up.
Bingo, Kate thought.
“I’m working to settle Mr. Merrick’s estate. If I can get a copy of that agreement, I can move forward. You can imagine how comforting that would be for Mr. Merrick’s family.”
“I can’t give it to you. Our records have to be subpoenaed. People store stuff here they don’t want anyone to know about. We can’t just give out that information.”
“Yes I know. I’m an attorney.” Kate pulled one of her old business cards out of her satchel and held it up just long enough for him to see the writing. “But waiting on the proper forms so I can draft the subpoena is something I don’t have time for. The family is devastated, as you can imagine.”
“Sorry,” he said. “I still can’t give it to you. I could lose my job if I don’t follow the rules.”
Kate looked into his eyes, holding his gaze a beat longer than necessary. When she slid the business card back into her satchel, her elbow knocked a rack of brochures off the counter and they scattered on the floor.
“I’m so sorry. I guess I can tell what kind of day it’s going to be.” She crouched down to pick them up.
“No big deal.” He came out from behind the counter to help her pick them up, stealing a good long look down her gaping blouse in the process.