I click off the light and turn to leave, then freeze with one foot raised mid-step. Panic chokes me, and I try and swallow it down, but my throat feels like sandpaper.
I’m going to turn back around, and I’m going to laugh at myself when I realize it’s all in my head. I didn’t really see what I think I did. I didn’t. I DIDN’T! Jared’s right, I am crazy, because it’s not possible. It’s just not possible.
I turn slowly back toward the closet and take a deep breath before flipping the switch back on. I gasp and cover my mouth with both hands.
It’s more than possible. It’s very real.
With the exception of the dozens of clothes-less hangers, Jared’s closet, which as of this morning was full of his things, is now completely empty.
Chapter Seven
NINE
Stalking is such sweet sorrow.
It can also be boring as fuck.
At least, it is in this case. Screw all those movies that make it look like the guys are totally getting off on watching the unknowing girl. If I hadn’t found half an Adderall in my jeans pocket earlier, I’d be fucking snoozing.
Jared’s computer is clean. There’s nothing on it but his search history, which includes a lot of Asian porn sites with women of questionable legal age and little else.
Jared Cox’s girlfriend, the one he was obviously about to leave high and dry, Lenore Leary is smart. I know this because when I hacked into the computer the day after Jared became a corpse, I discovered that her mic is disabled and that she’s got a piece of tape over the camera. She’s either a paranoid conspiracy theorist and thinks that the government or big brother is watching her, or paranoid that someone else might be.
And she’d be right on at least one of those accounts.
I mean, I’ve got a piece of tape over my own as well, but that’s because I’ve got shit to hide, which means she could, too. And that something is hopefully our money.
The other thing she’s hiding is her face. Not only can I not see her on the camera, but there’s not a single picture of her anywhere, which is odd because there are pictures of her now deceased douche of an ex everywhere. Even pictures at events where it states their names together in the caption as attending together only shows pictures of Dead Jared, pre-death of course, smiling and raising his glass with a bunch of other men who could be auditioning for Jared’s stunt double. It makes me wonder if those kinds of guys get a group discount on suits, watches and haircuts, because they’re all wearing the same sad-looking grey suit and flashing the same gold Cartier watches, and have the same all-American boy-next-door, dye my grey hairs with shoe polish and hope nobody notices, but everyone notices hairstyles.
I re enabled her microphone on her camera, but since that only works when it’s powered on and she’s one of those people who actually turns it off when she’s done using it, I hacked into her cell phone for good measure. So far, I’ve found no proof that she’s got any involvement in Jared’s scam. Her computer is clean. Her texts are just a lot of her asking random people if they’ve talked to Jared or if they know where he is. There are no encrypted files that I can find, but that doesn’t mean she’s innocent. It could just mean she’s crafty and keeps her laptop clean.
Today, her laptop is on, and I hear her crying.
“What’s got you so upset?” I ask out loud to myself. I log onto the mirror program which shows me everything on her screen. It’s her bank records. It seems she’s in the red after a recent transaction made by Jared, who withdrew all sixty-thousand something dollars from their joint account the day he was planning to make a run for it.
“So, the plot fucking thickens,” I say.
On a hunch, I pull up the County Clerk’s office’s public records and do a deed search. The house that Lenny and Jared share is longer co-owned by Lenny and Jared. It’s owned by the Bank of Lee County who just today filed an eviction notice with the Sheriff’s department to schedule a formal eviction. In two days’ time, they’ll show up at her house and remove her and her things by force. The mailing address on record is Jared’s office. Lenny might not even know she’ll be homeless in two days’ time.
I can use that to my advantage. She’ll have to tap into the stolen money to save the house, or she’ll be out on the street.
“What’s it gonna be, Lenny? Your move,” I say, leaning back in my chair. “Show me where it is.”
My computer dings with an alert. Lenny’s making a phone call. I click the alert and the audio screen appears, the horizontal line moving across the screen jumps up as she speaks. “Hey, Lori? It’s Lenny.” She sniffles.